This week – the week after Memorial Day – is really really hard for me.

Two years ago, we went to visit Miranda the first part of Memorial Day weekend, and I just didn’t feel right. Sunday night, I was staring at a positive pregnancy test. We spent Monday just trying to let it sink in. Tuesday I received confirmation and a due date from the doctor. Wednesday we bought books about pregnancy and it started to seem real. And Thursday, I woke up not pregnant anymore.

Two years ago. I don’t know the dates, but I know the days.

There are other things I know. I could tell you at any time how old our baby would be. What she would be doing developmentally. What books we would be reading to her.

But there are more things that I can’t know. I can’t know how amazing it would be to see Nathan with her. I can’t know what it would be like to see her with the Niece. I don’t know how she’d smell or what color her hair would be or what song would make her dance. Or why I am so convinced that our baby was a girl.

I still struggle. Not daily anymore. Not even frequently. But some days are hard.

Most days, though, are just a balancing act.

Between grief and reverence.

Between loving the life we have and missing the life we almost had.

Between contentment and hope.

She taught me so much. She taught me how to not take any minute with anyone I love for granted. She taught me how to depend on Jesus and Nathan to hold me up when I can’t do it myself. She taught me how to put myself back together when I didn’t think I could. She taught me that I am strong enough to get through absolutely anything.

I carry that knowledge of my strength with me every day. Into every work meeting. Into every run. Into every situation where I feel out of my element. Into every conversation that makes me uncomfortable or vulnerable. I can make it through absolutely anything.

And she reminded me that Nathan won’t ever leave my side. That he’ll always come back and get me. That I don’t have to do anything on my own. I won’t ever be alone. I don’t ever have to be alone.

I wish I had some neat and tidy way to tie this up, but I don’t. I’m having a very hard time hitting publish on this post because I know it is not what you are used to reading here and I don’t want you to worry about me.

I didn’t write this today because I’m sad all the time. I’m not at all. I wrote this today because I have a lot to process and I process things best within this little wordpress window. But I am fine. There is no cause for worry. I am thankful. I am not alone. But it isn’t always sunshine and marathons and new recipes in my head. I think about her a lot. And I think I owe it to her to admit that.

If you’re going to worry about me at all? Worry that I’m gonna lose my dinner at boot camp 35 minutes from now. I’ve got to earn #sweatstreak day 2, and I don’t take the easy way out.

See? I’m balancing just fine.

So this weekend? My eating was less than stellar. I know that the secret to my food management is controlling my environment. But we were visiting family this weekend. And we will repeating that next weekend. Too many chips. Too many ice cream sandwiches. I’ve got to be better. It feels good to be back in my house, getting nice and cozy with my fruits and veggies.

But the good? We ran a 5K on Friday night. I ran despite a migraine earlier in the day. We ignored the heat and the humidity. Neither of us PR’ed, but we both placed in our age group (2nd for Nate, 3rd for me).

(I was totally waving like mad at the Niece.)

We came back into town Sunday and ran with the LexRunLadies (and dudes). Even though it was incredibly hot. We didn’t care.

And today we went on a hike with some awesome friends. It was a hot day, but it was just beautiful out there.

So even when I’m not food focused, I’m still getting out there. And that’s pretty cool.

I’ve been eyeing the “runstreak.” You know, the people who run every single day. But that’s just not for me. My left knee needs rest days here and there. And my soul needs variety. So I’ve decided to start a “sweatstreak.” Every day on twitter, I’ll be posting a picture describing my daily sweat with the hashtag #sweatstreak. And a number. I’m not starting until tomorrow (Tuesday), though, because it just wouldn’t be fair to take credit for a streak I didn’t know existed.

My rules? Break a sweat. At least 30 minutes. That’s it. I have lots of variety planned this week. And I’m going to see how many days I can maintain my sweatstreak. I’m really excited about this. I think this is something that I can really use to motivate myself.

So who’s with me?

Last night I wasn’t happy. At all.

I had boot camp on my schedule, but I didn’t want to go. At all. I was beat. Physically. Emotionally. Professionally. I was just exhausted.

Boot camp on Monday left me feeling empowered and excited. But running during lunch on Tuesday brought out my soreness. And then Butts and Gutts and Zumba on Tuesday night brought out exhaustion. Yesterday I found myself really really sore all the way around my abdomen and back. My thighs were burning. My knees are bruised from my modified burpies and push-ups from Monday. I took a 10 minute nap between getting home and getting dinner ready.

The thought of boot camp almost brought frustrated tears. I wanted to do it. I wanted to be focused. I want 153 and a sub-5 marathon. But I didn’t know if my body could handle it. I knew I couldn’t perform to the level I did on Monday and I was afraid I’d spend that hour being frustrated and discouraged. I didn’t know what to do.

So I reached out to my friends. And the lovely Ann posed the following question:

The body is not a sledge hammer to be beat against a rock. It is a knife to be honed. Do you think boot camp is closer to beating yourself against a rock or honig yourself? There’s your answer.

I literally sighed with relief. There was my answer. Boot camp would have been beating myself against a rock. So I started thinking. About what I could do to be a knife. It wasn’t black or white. My decision wasn’t boot camp or nothing. I needed to figure out how to be a knife.

I opened the Yoga Download app on my phone and I did an amazing 20 minute yoga practice called "Twisting out Negativity" and my standard 20 minute hatha yoga #1. It was exactly what I needed. I felt energized and connected to my body. I didn’t feel like I had given up on my fitness goals for the night, I just felt like I had made a better decision about what kind of goal to have.

I still came close to meeting my daily calorie goal (my weekly average is still under the goal). I feel ready for my run tonight. I feel very secure that I did what my body needed. I don’t have to be balls-to-the-wall all the time. I need to listen, respect, and hone my body.

Amending my plan doesn’t mean that I’m not focused. It just means that I’m paying attention.

I wish I had a picture of my Mom’s windshield to show you. I think it is really cool. The speed I’m driving is projected on the windshield a little below eye level. I don’t even have to look down to be aware of my speed. It is always in my view. I can’t forget about it. It is just right there.

That’s how focused I am on my goals right now. I went for a run at lunch, and I was focused. My goal weight of 153 was right there, in my sight, just being projected straight in front of me. I didn’t need to be reminded. Because I could see it. And I chased it today. I was in active pursuit. I ran hard. I ran fast. I ran solid. Chasing 153.

I rocked boot camp last night. I was the fastest sprinter in the class (I’ll brag just a little). I pushed so hard, harder than I thought I could. And I’m going to practice burpies and mountain climbers before I go back tomorrow. Because I’m focused on 4:59:59. I’ve got sub-5 in my sights.

I know what I want. I’m invested in what I want. I believe in what I want.

Those 2 numbers just flash across my windshield. When I’m at the grocery. When I hesitate to get off the couch. When I think I want 2 servings of frozen greek yogurt. When I think about cruising on a run or through a class. There they are. The numbers that I’m chasing.

I don’t let them intimidate me. I don’t let them define me. They are what I want, but I know they are hard goals, I know there’s a chance I may not meet them. I’m prepared for that. But when the day comes that I step on that scale or over that finish line, I want to be secure in the knowledge that I did everything I could to get there. That I was committed, devoted, focused.

153 in September.

Sub-5 marathon in November.

I’m chasing them down, friends. And I’m having a blast doing it.

What are you pursuing? Is it always on your windshield or just an afterthought at the end of the day?

So I teased you guys the other day. I mentioned that I have goals. And they are big. And they are scary. But, seriously. I ran a marathon. What can’t I do?

Lofty Goal 1: Sub-5.

I will (WILL) finish my next marathon in under 5 hours. I am working a specific plan to meet this goal. (It is convluded and I will discuss it in the next few days, but not right now.) If it wasn’t for the weather, we could have finished the Pig in 5:45. And it is a difficult course. OBX is easier (except for the climb at 22) and the terrain is varied.

I think this is totally manageable if I get serious about my speed. I haven’t ever put any focus on my speed. I’ve learned within the last few months that I have more in me than I thought. I can outrun zombies. I can run with friends who have paces that I think I can’t run at. I need to learn to run different paces on different types of runs so that I can push myself on some races and take it easy on others. I have all kinds of numbers and my trusty garmin. Watch out, friends. Krissie’s chasing down 5 hours.

Lofty Goal 2: Lose 25 pounds

I know, I know. I talk about weight a lot. I’m content where I am. I have a lot of work to do. Blah blah blah. I go back and forth. I maintained (very well, might I add) while I was training for the marathon in order to run strong. I know the weekly mileage where my body needs more than to lose, and (based on my calculations) I have 17 weeks to get to that point. Which, strangley enough, puts me at the week of the Citizen-Times Half in Asheville (where I will finally meet the lovely AshleyGee!!).

17 weeks. 25 pounds. That’s very lofty for me. Just like with Operation Bridesmaid last year, I have degrees of goals (satisfied = 15 pounds, happy = 20 pounds, ecstatic = 25 pounds). But I want to see 25 gone. Because I have no idea what I will look like at anything lower than right now…well, anything lower than 5 pounds from now. For years, I wanted 175. And I chased it down. And I beat it into submission. Over the last 8 months, I’ve been on and off the wagon. I’ve fluctuated both sides of that number, but never more than 4 pounds on either side.

And now I want to see what esle I can do. I want to see if I can reach 153. (GAH! It is SO SCARY to see that in writing!) I’m not doing anything drastic. I’m just recommitting to what I know works.

I’m working on a schedule (shocked, aren’t you?) that won’t be set in stone for a few days. Until after I meet with the trainer for my pre-boot camp assessment on Wednesday (terrified!). So I won’t bore you with the details because they will probably change.

I’m cleaning up my eating, and that starts at the grocery. I’m not buying any more cereal, little bunny crackers, terra chips, noodle meals, frozen Indian food. No more of this processed stuff, even the “healthy” processed stuff. It is fine and dandy for maintence, but I’m not in maintenace mode anymore. I know that I don’t lose when I’m eating that. So I’m going to stop.

I’m going back to the tried and true. MyFitnessPal (I’m KaySeeBee) and food photo journal on Instagram (I’m KaySeeBee there too). I may even do a weekly “what I ate” post here, just to keep me even more accountable.

So there you have it. Lofty goals. With action plans to be spelled out over the next few days. I so hope that I’ll link back to this post in 17 weeks and shower myself with congratulations and praise.

Here I go!

Today I wore a shirt I bought at the Marathon. I love this shirt.

(I didn’t wear the bib today, of course. That would have been awkward.)

I was pleasantly surprised when the barista struck up a conversation about it at 6:15 in the morning. I never expected to find myself in Starbucks discussing my marathon with someone who isn’t a runner. It totally made my day.

Later in the afternoon, Nathan and I decided to make the trip to Louisville (a little more than an hour) and check out a regionally-owned running store. Just to see what different products they may have. My traditional running shoes are dead and I need something traditional as I transition into my Altras. I was also very excited because I read on line that they offer free video gait analysis. And because, just maybe, we like spending time in the car together.

So we head into a running store. I’m wearing the marathon tshirt. He’s wearing a shirt from a trail 25K. The store isn’t very big, kinda botique-y (somewhere between a mall Starbucks and a mall clothing store). At all. There are 2 (maybe 3) other customers. And at least 3 people working in the store. I get excited right away. Maybe I’ll actually get my gait analyzed today. How cool would that be?

We don’t get acknowledged right away, but that’s okay. We immediately head over to the sticker section because, even though we already bought a 26.2 sticker, I want a bigger one. We decide on which sticker want and then we look around.

Even though we are looking at stickers on the counter and there are several guys behind the counter, nothing is said to us.

Nothing.

So we look at clothes for Nathan. Would these shorts be too heavy? Would these be long enough? Then we look at fuel stuff and hydration stuff.

Nothing.

We head over to the wall of shoes. I can’t figure out any type of organization of the shoes at all. I know I need a neutral shoe, but I can’t tell where the neutral shoes are. I look for my tried and true Brooks Defyance, and I don’t see the current model. So I pick up every single Brooks shoe on the shelf to see if it just looks different. No Defyance. So I start at the other end of the wall and go back. No Defyance. I get out my phone, examine the brands and models of various shoes and put them into Zappos to try to figure out which one are neutral.

I’m standing in the middle of pretty small store with a shoe in one hand and scrolling through my phone with the other.

But no one – NO ONE – offers me any help.

I head back up to the front of the store and start looking again at this little Nike tunic/tank thing. It is pricey, but it is cute. And I just finished a marathon. I earned something cute. I hold it up to me. Do I want a medium or a large? Is it too similar to the shirt I bought at Gap on clearance?

And, most importantly, do I want to drop $80 in a store where I am being ignored?

We head back up to the counter, pick up our 26.2 sticker, and head to the register. He takes Nathan’s name to get on the email list. He takes our $3. Gives me back 88 cents. And we leave the store.

Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m just spoiled by our local running stores. But the scene seems weird to me.

We go into a regional running store (6 stores in Kentucky and Indiana). We are obviously runners. We are wearing running shirts for races out of town from the store. We spend easily 15 minutes looking at shoes and picking up almost every women’s pair in the store. We buy a 26.2 sticker. And no one attempts to start any sort of conversation with us, more or less help us out.

My initial reaction? I totally internalized it. I don’t look like a runner. I’m not wearing a marathon shirt because I ran it, I must have just liked the shirt. I’m not buying this 26.2 sticker for me, I’m buying it for someone else. Surely I’m not being taken seriously as a runner because I don’t look like one. I realize that I could have asked for help. I realize that I could have asked which shoes were neutral or how to get my gait analyzed, but I completely internalized their lack of attention. I interpreted the lack of interest in me as the dismissal of any thought that I could be a runner.

I was very upset as I crammed that sticker in my purse and we headed out the door.

As soon as we were outside, Nathan commented how bizarre it was in there. How we find the vast majority of the running community to be friendly and curious. How strange it was that no one seemed interested in us at all.

And then I realized what he said.

No one seemed interested in US.

It wasn’t about me. Nathan totally looks like he’d be able to kick a marathon in the teeth (which he did). He was ignored too.

It wasn’t about me. It was just terrible customer service.

It wasn’t about me at all.

It sure felt like it, though.

Happy Friday, friends!

So I’m 5 days out from the marathon. My body feels completely back to normal (except for the gross sunburn peel going). I had my first successful post-marathon run last night. I’ve figured out what’s next. But I want to give you a few more thoughts on the marathon before I move on.

* I am so glad the Pig was my first marathon. I kept hearing (and reading) that it is a difficult course. But I know that the course wasn’t what attempted to murder me. My extended time wasn’t because of my training or the course. Also, the crowd support was absolutely amazing. I wan’t just running a marathon, I was a part of an event in a city that I really really like.

* I’m still surprised that I never really got nervous. Not even in the corrals. And it is odd how much I remember the time in the corrals. “Viva la Vida” takes me right back there. I was so excited. I was so ready. The buzz in the air was awesome. Excitement – from the days before right up through the start line – overpowered my nerves.

* I cannot wait to do it again. Seriously. I want to know what I am capable of (and I’ll find out in November when the average high is 60). Cannot wait. I’d run one again later this month if I wasn’t afraid of doing damage to my body (and afraid of the heat).

* I learned that I can focus and buckle down and get things done. As someone who has half-assed training programs before, I know that I can do things 70% and be okay. But the marathon taught me that important things are worth 100% of my effort and focus. And that I can follow-through when things are important. I made the marathon top priority, and it showed.

* The marathon taught me that I can do ANYTHING that I put the work into. Anything. If you would have told me a year ago that I’d run a marathon, I would have laughed. I don’t know when it became something I thought I could do. I don’t even thing I had bought in completely when I started training. I know I had serious doubts after my first 20-miler. But I followed and believed in the process. I trained as instructed and I trusted the training. And it worked.

* The marathon also taught me that I can’t do everything, that I have to make choices. I chose to put the marathon ahead of almost everything. I declined social invites. I didn’t cook as much as I like to. My house wasn’t as clean as I would have liked. I chose to put the marathon ahead of losing weight. I’m not going to publish a year-long cookbook for Christmas gifts like I have the last few years. I put my goal first. I put the marathon first. And it was worth it. A thousand times, it was worth it.

* I have amazing people in my life. I couldn’t have done it without the encouragement of my husband. The commitment of my running buddy. The willingness of my running friends. The passion of my friends who cheered me on through runmeter. The grace and understanding of my family and friends. I did not do this on my own.

Here’s what it boils down to.

I did this. And whatever your marathon is? You can do it.

Dream big, friends. Figure out what you love. Figure out what the next big step would be. And make a commitment. Then chase it down. Go get it. Don’t feel guilty about it. Make the sacrifices you need to make. Don’t justify it. GO GET IT.

It is worth every single step.

Go get it.

I can’t think of the last time I have been this proud. I’m actually wearing this as I type. Yup. First things first, I want to apologize for not having more pictures. I didn’t take any during the race because I wanted my phone to last so you could talk to me through runmeter. And I don’t have many pictures from after because I left my camera at Miranda’s. So I make the best of what’s around.

Marathon Day didn’t start out as I expected. I slept really well, only waking up a few times to check the clock to make sure we hadn’t overslept. (I do that for group runs too, so it isn’t that distracting.) The alarm went off at 4:00 (yes, 4:00) and I wasn’t nervous at all. We got ready at Miranda’s and headed out to meet at Erin and Levi’s hotel. As we got closer, I expected to get more nervous, but that didn’t happen. Even as we stood in a hotel full of runners, I was calm. I was ready.

We headed to the start line, took a few pictures, and got in our corrals. It was humid, but around 60 degrees, so it was perfect running weather.

The corrals or “pig pens” were just right. We had to estimate our finish times to see where we should start. Erin and I headed to pen G, got in line for the porta potties, and started to get excited. Still not nervous, just excited. A group sang the Star Spangled Banner and the gun went off! The vibe was just awesome. We danced to Coldplay’s Livin’ La Vida. Still not nervous. It took us about 15 minutes to get to the start line, which isn’t as bad as I expected. While we waited, we could see the start line on the jumbo tv. I recognized our friend Eric cross. That was pretty awesome. We headed out strong and steady and we were off!

The first few miles are really a blur. The corral system was great. We didn’t have to weave at all. Our pace was a little slower, which was nice. We just plugged along, getting the first few miles in. We ran into Kentucky and then back across the river to Ohio. We made a turn and came up 5th street, the place where I had cheered (and witnessed the streaker) last year. The crowd there was absolutely amazing. We saw Erin’s family, and a friend who had a #RunKy sign with our names on it, and then I saw our girl Miranda.

(picture taken at her house the night before)

I totally broke through the crowd and made a huge dash to give her a hug. It was so good to see a familiar face out there among all the unfamiliar ones. It was the first time I almost teared up.

We headed out of downtown and started The Climb. I’d heard so much about the climb. I needed to take it easy. I needed to stay focused. I needed to not go out too hard. And we killed the climb. KILLED IT. Training on the Run the Bluegrass course gave us all we needed for the hills. We saw LaTonya (one of my Resolution Runners drove all the way to Cincy to cheer for us!), passed the Elvis impersonator and Mirror Lake (I think the fountain might not have been going for the earlier runners). When we topped out at Eden Park and had a beautiful view of the river and the Kentucky hills, I had my second tearful moment. I heard a tweet from Lydia that she woke up to a text that we crossed the 7 mile mark and she was cheering for us.

We kept running and felt really really good. The course was rolling, but it was shaded and it wasn’t too hot. We hit the split for half and full marathoners, and I felt really bad ass. 3/4 of the people that started with us took the left hand-split, but not us. We went to the right. I was so proud of us. We were doing it. We were going to be marathoners. We kept running. We both felt really really good.

I had broken the race down to manageable sections. I’m comfy with 13, so that was the first. I knew I have difficulty at 16, so that was the second. Then 16-20. And the final 10K.

When we reached the halfway point, we were on track to finish ahead of my unspoken but realistic goal of 5:45. We ran through Mariemont, the part of the course I was most excited about. I hadn’t been to that part of town. I was excited to see the architecture and the shops. I had heard the crowds up there were good. It lived up to the hype. I loved Mariemont. So much that I breezed by the 16 mile mark and steady into 17. Steady. We were starting to feel fatigued, but that was normal. We stopped to stretch. I visited the cleanest porta potty I’d ever been in (no sarcasm). I felt incredibly confident in our ability to finish this race. Systems check was good. I was excited.

But things changed drastically when we headed out of Mariemont. Drastically. We spent the first 18 miles in shaded, well-spectated neighborhoods. And then we were on the interstate. Full sun. No shade. No breeze. The gatorade at aid stations? Warm. To no fault of anything other than the weather, around the 19 mile mark, the race became absolutely miserable. Miserable.

We crossed the 19 mile mats, and I knew we were done. It was over 80 degrees at that point. Full sun. Asphalt. In full honesty, if it wasn’t my first full, I probably would have walked off the course. It was miserable. We didn’t run at all from around 20 until 26. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It just didn’t feel safe. Even with the ice and the cold, wet towels, the conditions weren’t good. We saw very very few people around us running. Even the relay runners were walking. Because of the heat and our exhaustion, running was not a good idea. (And with a running buddy as a doctor? I knew it wasn’t an excuse.) We both fought with being lightheaded. We completely stopped sweating. Erin’s heartrate was high. My breathing was shallow. We were drinking gatorade, water, and dumping water on us at each water station. We were fueling well. Running just wouldn’t happen.

What was so frustrating about the situation is that it had nothing to do with me. I felt awesome (other than the dehydration). My legs felt strong. Nothing was in pain. I was solid to finish the race. I fueled well. I conserved energy during the climb. I knew that if the weather conditions had stayed the same (or if we’d had shade and/or a breeze), we would have easily crossed that finish line around 5:45.

But that’s not what happened at all. We walked. From 20 on. It was hot. We were cranky. We were given ice cubes tied up in rubber gloves to help cool us down. The course officials and aid stations did everything they could to keep us going. Some restaurant was giving water bottles with their sticker slapped on. Residents had water hoses out for us to run through. It was just too stinking hot.

We walked and walked and walked (and moaned). We finally crossed the 25 mile marker and it still felt like 26.2 was never EVER going to happen. I could see downtown, but it seemed so far away. I was getting really discouraged. Incredibly discouraged. And then we saw him. Coming back for us in with his red hair flying out of his grey bandana.

Nathan came back for us.

For the first time in 5 miles, I ran. I ran to him. And I almost went into hysterical sobs. But I had no tears. None. And that’s when the severity of our situation hit me. I was so dehydrated that I literally could not cry. Any frustration I had about my marathon performance was gone. I could not cry. I had walked 6 miles when my body did not have enough spare fluid for a tear. I would not be embarrassed by a 6:30 finish time. I would be proud that I finished at all on a day like that one.

We filled Nathan in on our race up to that point. He told us about his (he finished in 4:19, under his goal of 4:30). We reminisced about the highlights of the course. We bragged about how we handled the Climb. And before we knew it, we were at 26. Nathan climbed back into the spectator area with Miranda and Erin and I ran the final .1 into the finish chute. It wasn’t the big teary finale I expected it to be because 1) we were miserable and just wanted shade and 2) neither of us could have cried anyway.

I don’t know what to say about the race, really. I’m trying not disappointed in my 6:27 finish time. Under the conditions, I don’t know how it would have been better. My body didn’t fail me. The weather was just brutal. (The bank downtown said it was 85 when we walked back to Miranda’s 30 minutes later.) Here are our splits:

6.8 miles in 1:29 – 13:05/mi

13.1 in 2:50 – 12:58/mi

19.7 in 4:31- 13:14/mi

26.2 in 6:27 – 14:46/mi

If we could have kept up our pace at 20, we would have finished in 5:46. But I won’t talk about that anymore. Because I know we did the absolute best that we could.

What this race gave me though? (Other than an awesome medal and earning the title of Marathoner.) It gave me a sense of curiousity. Even before the race was over, I was curious about what I was capable of under better circumstances. I want to know how strong I am. I want to know if I was trained to meet 5:45, or even 5:30. Because I really think I am. I think if it wasn’t so stinking hot, I would have surprised myself. So I’m already looking forward to November 11th.

I feel much better today than I thought I would. I’m really stiff, but nothing hurts. The worst part is my sunburn. I guess pouring all that water over my shoulders rinsed all my sunscreen off.

And I think my neck is a little sore from wearing this medal around the house. :)

(Oh! And a bonus? You can read Erin’s Flying Pig report here!)

In 48 hours, I will be several miles from finishing the marathon, but I will be at the longest distance I have ever ran. My feelings about this swing wildly, but right now, I’m feeling pretty good.

My bags are packed and in the car. I’m leaving a little early today, picking Nathan up at work, and heading to Cincy. Miranda is awesomely hosting us for the weekend. We’ll head to the expo tonight, get our bibs and fun stuff. Cheer for the 5K tomorrow (Go Miranda!) and then get prepared for the marathon.

I do get nervous here and there, but I’m feeling really good overall. The last of my scabs fell of yesterday, so that has to be a good omen. I’ve trained well. The hay is in the barn. (or, as Nathan says, “the squirrel is in the attic.” I don’t know what that means.) All of my joints feel good. I’ve been having some left calf tightness, but I have my foam roller with me. I’m good.

I’m very proud of my training. Training taught me to listen to my body. If I expect more of it, I have to give it more. I had to let go of my weight loss goals to run strong, and I’m okay with that. Training taught me that it is okay to turn a 4 miler into a 6 miler if I’m feeling awesome, and it is okay to turn a 6 miler into a 4 miler if I’m feeling especially crappy. It reminded me that I need to focus on the quality of my food and that it is okay to split a pint of artisan ice cream with my husband after a long run. I’ve always heard not to reward yourself with food, but seriously? After 20 miles? Give me some ice cream minus the guilt. I’m totally cool with that.

I’m also very proud that I reached this point without feeling burned out. Physically and emotionally, I feel good. And I have you guys to thank for that. Those of you who encourage me frequently on the blog, on facebook, on twitter, and on daily mile. I know it doesn’t seem like much, but when I get back from a run and have a “Girl, you killed that run!” it really changes my attitude. If I felt defeated, that goes away. My virtual world keeps me encouraged and empowered.

But more than that? I owe so much to my running friends. Because of you, I never dreaded a run. (Sometimes I didn’t want to get up early, but I didn’t dread the run itself.) Since training began sometime in January, I haven’t had a long run entirely to myself. Erin ran with me consistently until her leg decided to get cranky. Jen came out and ran the first half of my 20-miler with me, and then Nathan ran the rest. Kelly met me at Henry Clay to run the last 2. My second 20-miler, Betsey came out and ran the second 10 with me even though she wasn’t training for anything. I’ve ran with who knows how many ladies and dudes during the week, on Sunday group runs, at races, all over the place. So many people came out to group runs that support and keep me accountable. I have been excited about every single group run because I get to see my friends. You have ran slower so you could run with me. You have ran longer so you could run with me. You have driven across town and out of town. You have ran in the hot sun and the rain and the snow. If you ran a single step with me, even if it was only the 20 seconds or so before you left me behind at my pace, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You kept me excited. You kept me motivated. You kept me encouraged. And, when the going got tough, you kept me distracted and laughing. (“I’m so pissed I could litter!”)

All my fellow piggies – Good luck. The day is going to be awesome and terrible and then awesome again. That’s just the way that it works. We’ll be great. And we will always remember Sunday.

Erin – I want this marathon for you just as bad as I want it for myself. We’ve got this. I’m with you. I just hope you don’t weigh more than my CamelBak when it’s full. (And I don’t think you do.)

Nathan – I just shake my head because I don’t know what to say that you don’t already know. I am so glad we are runners. I am so glad we do this together even though very little of it is actually together. You know what I mean. I can’t wait to get the text that you are a marathoner. And I can’t wait to join you at the finish line. I am so proud of us already.

Alright, friends. Let’s do this.

Sunday morning, round ’bout 6:30am (or however long it takes me to get to the start line), I’ll start running. And I’ll run for as long as it takes me to finish 26.2 miles. This still sounds crazy to me. Absolutely insane.

I want to take as many of you with me as I possibly can. So I’m using Runmeter. Even if it kills my battery and I don’t get pictures to tweet. Because I know I will need your encouragement. And with Runmeter, I can get it without even having to get my phone out of my trusty fanny pack sport belt.

Do you know about Runmeter? It is a GPS app that tracks your run and posts your stats to facebook or twitter. But the coolest part? It reads your comments to me. Out loud. Through my earbud. So last night when Kelly tweeted this:

I heard: “Tweet from Kelly Bishop…” blah blah blah. It is awesome. (And I was hydrating. With water and Nuun tablet from Lydia. That exploded all over me like a shook-up sprite. Good times.)

So during the marathon, you can talk to me. And I will hear you. I’m not going to play any music, but I’ll have an earbud in so I can hear you.

As I said, I hope it doesn’t kill my phone, but who knows. I’m going to turn off every app I can, but 6ish hours is a long time for my phone to run anything. So if it dies, I’ll just have Miranda tweet when I finish!

So how can you follow me on this awesome Runmeter contraption? There are 2 ways:

1. Twitter. If you follow me as @Krissieb, you’ll see my tweet bright and early when the race starts. Any reply to me (must start with @krissieb) will be read to me. If you aren’t on twitter, you can’t comment to me, but you can still follow me. Go to www.twitter.com/krissieb and you’ll be able to see the link. Just click on the link it provides (what starts with j.mp below) and it will take you to the map that shows where I am geographically.

2. Facebook. Same thing goes. Just comment on the post that looks like this and it’ll be read to me. Click on the link to see my real-time progress on the course. (Are you not my friend but want to follow me this way? Now you know my whole name. Friend me if you want to talk to me by Facebook!)

Totally unrelated to Runmeter, you can get text messages when I cross certain points of the course (wherever we cross mats). Click here for the info and my last name is up there in the facebook screen.

Wish me luck, friends! I’ll be a marathoner Sunday afternoon!