Friends! Long time, I know! Big week ahead though, so let’s get right to it:

The marathon is Sunday! I say “the” like it’s the only one, but it might be MY only one, and it’s definitely the only one occupying my mind right now, so THE Marathon it will be, at least until I am forced to decide what I’m doing next year.

I’m running for Ben. I’m running for Alex. I’m running for Cal’s Angels. I’m also running for me.

The money I’ve raised is going to Cal’s, and I’m wearing the Cal’s singlet, which I’m excited and proud about. I haven’t worn a uniform as an athlete in a pretty long time, and though I’m not trying to win, it still means something to me.

On calls with the marathon team, we have talked about thinking of the kids as motivation to get through the hard runs, that they fight so hard without being given the choice, so we can choose to fight for them. I think this is a lovely sentiment, and I support anything that helps a person win the mental game when they need it. But I confess that I don’t picture Ben’s little steroid-puffy face when I’m struggling through training runs. I don’t call on cancer-fighting strength when my legs are getting heavy and tired. These are pretty different types of fights to me, and that’s not when has motivated me through this process. It’s more about the connection with other runners, as well as the peace and mental space running gives me to be a better parent and person. I also, a little bit anyway, hope to make my kids proud of me. We can all do some pretty hard things, right?

I expect to be a little emotional on race day, especially when I see my family, including my parents, and when we go by the Cal’s tent on charity row. But I’ve heard the event is a whole mess of sights and sounds and joy and excitement. It’s funny because I’m only feeling excited now, which isn’t what I anticipated. I have been nervous and doubtful of my ability to even finish this race pretty much since training began on June 5th. I don’t know for sure, but this might be part of the reason I didn’t talk about it much.

But an interesting thing happened a couple of weeks ago. I twisted my ankle on a short, slow training run. Hold on now, don’t get excited. I’ll explain. The rain had just stopped so the sidewalk was a little slick, and there were some walnuts straight from the tree, still in their giant fruit casings, all over the spot where I had let myself get distracted by the man with the two dogs coming towards me. I was trying to figure out how far into someone’s yard I could go to avoid the man, since the sidewalk was pretty narrow. I stepped weird on a walnut thing and wrenched my ankle, which I had sprained some years ago running with the kids I was coaching at the time. In that instant, I thought my marathon was over. I start to cry immediately out of panic and fear and sadness that all of the hundreds of miles I had run over the past 3 months were now thrown out the window.

I called Matt, crying inconsolably, and he came to pick me up. He talked me down and helped me get ice on the ankle. It wasn’t swollen, thankfully, and I was able to put weight on it, so pretty quickly I could see that I had over-reacted, but I still iced a bunch and took it easy for a couple of days. The twisting happened on a Friday, and I was able to run 12 miles by the following Sunday, and all I could feel was relief. I wasn’t done for. I could still run the marathon! What a gift! What a thing to be grateful for! What a massive attitude shift!

Come Sunday afternoon, this marathon journey will have ended, and I’ll be able to do a proper look-back, but for now, I can say I have loved it. It’s never been about the destination, so I already feel like I got what I came for: peace, hope, time alone, time with friends, inspiration, and maybe some healing.