Yesterday marked a week until my half marathon. So, as Hal Higdon commanded, I tackled double digits for the first time in my life — ten miles.
I’m not going to sugarcoat it — it sucked. I was bored, I was slow, and I was frustrated — so much to the point, my mind took me to that dark place where I considered throwing in the towel, and instead of taking on the half next weekend, I couldn’t help but be tempted by the thought of staying home to eat Oreos all weekend.
But, of course I won’t — I’m going to bite the bullet and do it. Even though my pace is about sixteen seconds slower than the race’s pace car, meaning it’s pretty much guaranteed I will be left behind by all runners and get stranded somewhere in the middle of wine country (though I suppose there are worse places to get stuck).
If you’re in the neighborhood next weekend, keep an eye out for me by the roadside. I’ll be the one with the bottle of wine in my hydration pack.
You’ll be fine, you always conplete what you start. I’m sure. Just remember wine at the finish line. Love Mom
You are going to do awesome!!! I thought the same thing, but you will be amazed how the crowds, kids giving you high fives, and music will get you through. You got this!