High Anxiety 4/12/10

I took the day off from running, which left me plenty of time and energy for worrying about my marathon on Sunday in Lawrence.

With a week to go before the big day, one is supposed to cut back on the mileage, ramp up the carb consumption, and work out all the little details. The run less/eat more dictum is intended to keep your energy stores at a higher level. In other words, "The training for this race is done, don't knock yourself out the week before your big event." For me, it means, "Feeling like a whale on meth, rampage through your kitchen, and rake in all digestibles with your flailing flippers." But the last part-the logistical planning-is the one that allows my imagination to go wilding.

"How many gels do I take? At what intervals? Should I put some in my hair, since I'm not showering beforehand, and my hair will look like a plate of cooked spaghetti? Did I eat enough pasta for dinner? I feel like a python that swallowed a bowling ball.

How am I going to get to the race? Should I get up early? No, I'll be too tired, and might fall asleep on the crapper. I'll take a cab. No, because then I'll have to take money with me for the return trip, and what if the driver takes me to the start via Cheyenne, WY? Why is Wyoming called that? But what if the driver is an honest, God-fearing man, and The Rapture happens while we are en route? Given my God-slandering history, I will surely be left alone in the cab. I don't have a cabbie's license. I will have to survive the crash, then run to the start.

What if it rains? Should I wear a trash bag over my clothes to stay dry? And what about the garbage that spills out? Whatever happened to that band named Garbage from the '90s? What if they're one of the bands playing on the course? Will I have time to get the red-headed chick-singer's autograph and still qualify for Boston? Have I run too many garbage miles, and not enough quality?

I need to fall asleep. What if the ceiling falls while I'm staring at it? Will I have enough time to get under the bed before I am crushed? Because if I don't, I will miss the race. Why is race called 'The Third Rail of American Politics?' What if there is a Tea Party rally blocking my rapture-prone cab driver? I need to fall asleep. Man, it hurts just to close my eyes. Why did I eat so much for dinner?'

A marathon is an all or nothing proposition. All the time one spends away from family, household chores that aren't finished, bills that are not paid-leading to home foreclosure-those can all be redeemed by a successful marathon performance. But so many factors outside of one's control can send the day into The Dismal Abyss of Disappointment, which makes you wonder why you gave up all those things you used to love doing, like, going to your children's activities, tequila shootathons with complete strangers, and Sunday morning sleep.

It's the nature of the marathon beast, I suppose. We don't have to put ourselves through all this inner torment. But, we do. And it's probably because that to finish another one of these goofy things still seems like such a tremendous accomplishment-just like it did the first time. I think I got two, non-consecutive hours of sleep the night before my first one, but, man, was I pumped up when I finished.

Thanks for reading.