Day Of...

I've been wonderfully swamped with well-wishers today--flowers and phone calls and texts, oh my!--so the lollygagging I'd planned to do over the day-of-the-marathon entry didn't really happen. But I'm feeling strong and spooked and excited in about equal measure, which means feeling great has the majority and I'm all about majority rules. In the last forty-five minutes left before I leave for the race, I need to double check that I've packed everything (no barefoot running for me, thanks), down enough water to make the pH in my stomach hospitable for most freshwater fish, and watch the finale of The Karate Kid one more time.

Yeah, I know a karate tournament and a marathon aren't exactly kissing cousins, but the way I figure it, the metaphor holds up on three counts:

1. if the little demon in my head so much as hisses the words tired or quit or sore, I'll sweep his devilish little leg;
   
2. the crane kick's all the metaphor I need for digging deep and pushing through when (if!) I feel beat; and
3. I'm hoping Mr. Miyagi's voice will make an appearance in my brain somewhere around lap 7:

Miyagi have hope for you!

And with that, I'm off to go take my mark...