If I wasn’t worked up about my first marathon as it is, I’m now feeling full blown nut-job-wacko for getting myself into this messImeanAdventure!
Yesterday my mail box welcomed me home from work with a confirmation ticket from Chicago Marathon. It’s really happening! Not just an idea, not something I just talk, type, & blog about. I have an official bib number—which by the way has too many 4’s in it and 4 is my unlucky number (feck).
Aside from the unlucky amount of 4’s in my bib number, the confirmation comes in a 37 page booklet. A booklet!! All the information I need is covered in 37 pages (well, there is a Nike ad splashed in there). I must admit this makes the ordeal a wee bit more intimidating.
This is the reality: I registered for a HUGE marathon. So huge that it’s going to take AT LEAST 30 minutes to cross the starting line. So huge that I might crap my pants because I was too impatient to wait in line for a porta potty.
Okay, maybe that was a little overdramatic.
On a slightly off-topic note, people keep asking, “So are you ready for the taper madness?” I think I’ll be okay this week, coming off of a 20 mile run. Next week I may get more fidgety. The week before the marathon is when I’ll probably go ape-shit.