This is about where it gets real.
As I write this it is October 6. Exactly one month from this morning I’ll be standing, or waiting –or maybe actually running– somewhere near, over, under, across the bridge pictured above starting into what will be the first few steps of a 42.2 klick adventure through the streets of New York City.
The NYC Marathon.
The bucket list race.
The thing I’ve been training for over the last ten years, most of the time not even realizing this is why I’ve logged nearly ten thousand klicks since I started this running-thing, this time-consuming, life-changing, body-breaking, soul-mashing hobby.
It’s getting quite real. Did I mention that already? Sorry. It’s hanging right out there, constantly reminding me with every waking moment, every moment that I’m not running, not training, not pushing my fitness to a level of absolute confidence where I feel with absolute certainty that I’m absolutely not going to collapse on a foot-pounded asphalt road somewhere in the bowels of Manhattan.
As much as I know –feel it in my gut with more certainty than most things I know– that I shouldn’t put all my hopes and fears into one single event, on one single day, in one awesome but just-a-place place… as much as I know that: I am.
It’s real. It’s this thing I gotta do. These miles I gotta run. Somehow. Anyhow. There. Then. Because.
Do you ever feel like you’re in over your head a little bit? I feel like I’m in over my head right now: not a lot over my head, and not a lot of the time. Not on good days. Not after a successful training run, or an unexpected tempo, or a purposeful moment of self-reflection and meditative introspection. But sometimes. Sometimes I look at the scope of this thing, the work involved leading up, the tens of thousands of other people who are probably monumentally more ready than I am and think…
This thing is getting very real.