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It’s kinda hard to blog when you are hyperventilating into a paper bag.


Yeah, you could say I am pretty nervous about Sunday. I am trying not to think about it and I’ve been throwing myself into Girl Scout planning (you know, since I have two troops this year as I do not possess the ability to say “NO!”) to channel that nervous energy. But I can’t really ignore the fact that I am taking on 26.2 in about 33 hours.



Once again my fake pretend imaginary very good best friends on Facebook have rallied behind my scaredy-cat ass and offered lots of support and LIKES (which are like little virtual high fives in the form of little thumbs ups). And this picture posted by the blog Run Faster, Mommy! could not have gone up at a more perfect time:

So I need to trust in my training, find that missing Thorlo sock, drink my Michelob Ultra, and try to keep from fainting and/or puking and/or crying and/or crapping in my pants and/or hiding in my closet curled up in the fetal position. Since my house was built in 1928 the closets are super tiny so I really hope the last one doesn’t happen… although crapping in my pants doesn’t sound that appealing either. I’m no Grete Waitz.

I am going to exclude the weather snap shot today. It hasn’t changed from “Too damn hot for an October marathon;” although  the high has dropped ONE WHOLE DEGREE to 77.


And speaking of blerg…

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