Here I sit, slightly crazed and perhaps rightfully restless. Preparing to enter a loose state of homelessness, saying goodbye to a beloved cat, shaking myself free of over half of my belongings, and preparing to embark on my loftiest running ambition yet in a few short days.
I can reflect upon and read over my training log from the past several months and convince myself time and time again that I am well-prepared, and time and time again that my approach to preparation was all off. How well could I prepare really? Sure, I've run 50, but 77?! 77 miles isn't a light task, though I've been tossing the idea around in my head as just another outing, a good long run with a friend in some great scenery, but its beginning to seem quite monumental and rather mountainous. From a distance it was but a bump on the horizon, but now, standing at the base of the mountain looking up I find it difficult to make out the summit through the trees and contours of the ridges, I'm second guessing the gear I have on hand and wondering how I'll catch myself if I fall...
The fact of the matter is, I am as prepared as I am right now. That statement isn't intended to perplex or be philosophical, thats just the way it is. I guess this is one of those instances where you just take what life throws at you- or, in this case, what I threw into my future and, with the crossing of calendar days, is whirling back at me like a bona-fied boomerang. Well I'm going to take that boomerang, damnit, and I'm going to run with it.
Like they always say: If life gives you lemons, eat a gel.