Verklempt

Everyday I get a little more convinced of my ability to complete the marathon and everyday I gain a little more insight into how bad it is going to hurt. I try to remind myself that the physical pain will be temporary and will fade, but the emotional high of completing the marathon will be remembered forever.

I definitely teared up when I completed the half marathon, and at the time I thought that was the biggest physical accomplishment I would ever complete. This marathon will represents a much more significant (and in some ways insurmountable) feat for me, and for that reason I am more than a little nervous about my ability to hold it together.

Don't get me wrong, I am a crier and I am not ashamed. Crying poses no threat to my masculinity. I will cry. It's going to happen. The problem is when am I going to start crying. If you've never had the pleasure, next time you happen to be out jogging around, do something to make yourself cry...think about death, hit yourself, look at your 401K statement....then try to keep running. It ain't easy.

You can't really see, and I have always found sight to be a helpful addition to any run. You can't really breath, which, if anything, is more important than seeing. And you look like a tool. No one looks sexy when they are trying (a) not to cry, (b) to see, and (c) to breath. Your face turns a brilliant red color and assumes a contorted and pained expression. I can try to distract onlookers by somehow bringing attention to my well-toned and shapely calves, but that only lasts for a minute or two.

To add to the fun, I have recently discovered that I have exercised induced asthma, brought on by a build up of lactic acid in my system towards the end of a hard run. Apparently one of my triggers is getting emotional. I have been training myself and my lungs during my last few long runs to deal with this exciting new development. My training consists of blocking all emotions after mile 18 or so. Unfortunately, mile 18 also marks the point where my emotions run rampant and cannot possibly be controlled without constant effort.

Anything...ANYTHING...can set me off. It's not so much about the object as my body's apparent need to cry...for any reason. I have a couple new inhaler friends that are joining me on runs now, just in case, thankfully since a rather terrifying run a few weeks back (sorry MK...didn't mean to be so scary) I haven't had any issues.

But even outside the running environment, I have noticed a definite increase in my emotional connections with running. Yesterday I bought new shoes. My pair for the marathon. The pair that will take me across the finish line. When I got home I saw my old pair haphazardly thrown on the floor. Just laying where I tossed them when I came home from Saturday's 12-miler. My plan was to take the old shoes back to Luke's to have them recycled. That would be the responsible thing to do. But I just can't. It seems unfair that my new shoes will be with me when I finish this race, but my old shoes were with me all the way there. Why should my shoes have to miss out when they have been there for me on one of the greatest adventures of my life?

Of course I know that I can't carry everything that helped me along the way, that would be ridiculous. I have to pick one shirt, one pair of shorts, one pair of socks, one pair of shoes. My belt can only hold so many Gu's (and inhalers). Our coaches gave us a list so that we can make sure we have everything we need for the race. I'll be inspecting that list and checking and re-checking my bags to make sure I have everything I need.

But I'll be carrying a lot more than what is listed on that sheet to make it through 26.2 miles.

I have been so amazed by the support from my friends and family. The donations to my charity were truly humbling and the constant words of encouragement have gotten me out of bed and out the door more mornings than I care to admit. My training process has been a lesson in how truly blessed I am to have friends and family who believe in me ever when it seems impossible.

So, no, it's not the shoes that make me cry. It's the mornings spent with my best friend, believing I couldn't accomplish the task before me, but knowing somehow we would. It's the calls and emails and letters reminding me how much I am loved and supported as the days countdown to November 7, 2010. And it's the memories of a wee friend running next to me at the gym telling me that I really could run for one full minute, even though it seemed so impossible at the time. It's a journey a lot longer than 26.2 miles, and it's taken a lot more than one lousy pair of shoes.

So yes, I will probably get a little emotional. Unfortunately, my packing list does not include tissue, so if you are coming to the race, for pete's sake, bring some freakin' kleenex.

Timmy