Nine weeks down and nine weeks to go.  Half-way there! I’m not sure whether to leap for joy or cower in distress because its increasingly clear as I blog through the days, this (marathon) is actually going to happen.  Rationally I know that this is what I’ve been preparing for, but what mystifies me is how time has (and will most likely continue to) race by.  I had lots of opportunities to asses my feelings surrounding the fast approaching date as I wallowed in a day of Rest.  

Besides training, the other periods in life where I was so focused on both a magical future date and monotonously ticking through days and weeks, were during my two pregnancies.  When you break it down, preparing for the birth of a child is not unlike training for a marathon.  You have a due/race date and many, many (40/18) weeks leading up to that date to grow/prepare.  You know that time spent during gestation/training is necessary and full of purpose, but sometimes temporarily lose sight of the point.  But when the day arrives that your baby decides to enter the world/race organizers chose for the event- your are mostly ready.  You might experience thoughts such as am I cut out to be a mother?/am I cut out to be a marathoner? or I think I’m going to barf/I know I’m going to barf or why the hell did I decide to do this without drugs?/why the hell did I think running 26.2 miles was a good idea? or I think I’m going to die/I think I’m going to die.  Both experiences sound pretty awesome, huh?  But they are awe-inducing and transformative.  In fact, the only times I’ve felt anything close to heroism were immediately following childbirth and after completing a marathon.  So  since my baby-making shop is closed (and because I really love feeling like a hero), I’ll keep running.