Please, Mom, don’t let me forget my shoes

Tomorrow’s the big day. Marathon day. And in all my excitement, manic energy, nervousness and, yes, I’ll be honest, dread, the one thing that remains constant is my fear of forgetting my running shoes. They’re sitting right beside my bag, not inside my bag because they’re dirty as all get out (It’s the Nashville Country Music Marathon, people. I’m embracing the language of my people.). I’m worried I will pick up my bag and rush out of the house without actually putting my shoes inside. So I said to Mom …

“Before we leave the house, I want you to say one thing to me.”

“You got it. What?”

“Do you have your running shoes?”

She didn’t even laugh at me. She had her own story of forgetting a critical pair of shoes. This is because we share DNA.

Mom’s doing me two incredible favors this weekend. One, fulfilling my little-girl dream of having a smiling, cheering parent at the marathon finish line (she already watched me finish a half-marathon, and it was the race where I set my PR). Two, driving me to Nashville so that I don’t have to take Benji. We all know I adore Benji, but his manual transmission is problematic before a marathon. I’m a delicate flower in that way, it turns out. No clutches before 26.2.

So here we go. The race starts at 7 AM tomorrow, and I’ll be running it for every one of those St. Jude kids and for you guys, who donated $1,500 so those kids can get the medical treatment they need. Thanks so much to all of you who helped me reach my fundraising goal. Because as illogically scared as I am of running for more than four hours, at the end of that four hours, I get to stop. And those St. Jude kids, they don’t. They have to survive and endure their illnesses, and they don’t have the option of stopping. So I won’t either.

Hugs and kisses, friends. And for heaven’s sake, cross your fingers.

Here’s a little wisdom from Marshall Ulrich, whose book I’m obsessively reading, to kick this weekend off:

(He’s talking about ultrarunners here, but hell, we’re not ALL Marshall Ulrich.)

” … in that place where you feel as if there’s nothing left, no more energy, no more reason, no more sanity, no more will to go farther. The you push forward anyway, step after step, even though every cell in your body tells you to stop. And you discover that you can go on.”

Running on Empty, Marshall Ulrich


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