That's that again. Last TNT practice today. We ran eight miles that felt short and easy. All has been said and done. There's nothing left but the race next Sunday. I'm excited, scared, impatient; giddy in a manly way.
Training serves as the ante. The marathon is the game. The rules are fluid. It could be nothing you imagined or exactly as planned. There are so many imponderables, not least being mental outlook. That's where I faltered last year. Yes, the humidity in Hawaii zapped me and I wobbled to a stop. But I wasn't prepared to deal with adversity. My training had gone smooth and injury free. Too smooth. Mr. Trouble had never come around.
Out there on the sun-washed asphalt of Honolulu, as runners streamed past, I stopped checking my watch. I shuffled along, no longer caring when I finished — until I finished. Then I knew I could've watered up, pushed myself and run a bit more. Quitting still eats at me like a chubby tape worm.
All I can do is run my best marathon, The results will take care of themselves.
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