Doggedly Running: Holy crap, I'm going to Disney World

In like...2 DAYS.

And I'm not going to have a frilly, fun, ride-the-rides, enjoy-your-vacation Disney trip. I'm doing the Goofy Challenge. 39.3 miles in 2 days. And it's happening in less than a week.

Wasn't I just saying yesterday that this race was a month away? And the day before that, wasn't it still a few months off? Where did those months go? What happened to all that time??

In my last couple years of racing, I've learned something about myself. During race week, AKA the last week of taper, I freak out. To the nonchalant observer, you would not notice this. If there's one big thing I've learned from teaching for so long, it's to keep a cool composure on the surface, while on the inside you may be falling to pieces. I'm very good at "appearing calm."

In reality, when someone asks me if my race is this weekend, my mind wants to scream "OMFG YES IT'S THIS WEEKEND HOLY CRAP DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO." But what comes calmly out of my mouth is "Yep, this weekend." Smile.

Or if I get that endlessly inevitable week-before-the-race question, "Are you ready?" My brain wants to yell "NO NO NO NO NO GIVE ME MORE TIME!" But I simply respond with my staple go-to answer "As ready as I'm going to be." Smile.

And that's just for "normal" races like half and full marathons. But this race, this is Goofy. Not just a half. Not just a full. Both. Back to back. Let's take a look at the agenda for my extended weekend:

Wednesday: Take 10:30 PM red eye flight from Seattle to Orlando.
Thursday: Arrive in Orlando early in the morning. Check into hotel. Go to the race expo. Maybe visit a Disney park. Try not to walk around too much. Try to get lots of sleep.
Friday: Sleep in (hopefully). Maybe go to a Disney park. Greet parents who are flying down from NY to watch my race(s). Go to TNT Inspirational Dinner. Try to sleep.
Saturday: ~2:30 AM ET (11:30 PM PST) Wake up and get ready. 3:00 AM ET (midnight PST) Meet team in hotel lobby to catch shuttles to race start. 4:00 AM ET (1 AM PST) Hang around start line in the cold until race starts. 5:30 AM ET (2:30 AM PST) Start half marathon. Try to run slow. Take lots of pictures with Disney characters and running buddy Erica. Wave to and take pictures with parents. Go slow. 8:30 AM ET (5:30 AM PST) Finish half marathon, if all goes according to plan. Rest of day: Ice bath, nap, enjoy time with parents. See grandma for the first time since graduating from undergrad. Try not to walk too much. Eat a lot. Try to sleep.
Sunday: Repeat Saturday schedule minus the pictures...oh yeah, and run TWICE AS FAR. No. Big. Deal. Celebrate by ice bathing, napping, eating, and watching the Seahawks wipe the Falcons out of the playoffs.
Monday: Sleep in, recover, catch a long, uncomfortable flight back to Seattle.

Done and done. Right? ...

Here is a completely irrelevant picture of super cute
puppy snuggles. Because it calms my soul and makes
my heart want to explode in a good way.

Race week is the point in my training that I convince myself that I am completely ridiculous. Who does this kind of thing? I'm pretty sure I convince myself to sign up for these things by somehow subconsciously convincing myself that the event will never actually happen. It will forever be that far away race that I'm training for. The time to run the race will never actually get here. Time doesn't actually proceed forward in a linear, predictable fashion. This line of reasoning is completely logical.

It's right about now that the reasonable, subdued, hermit side of my brain is staring incredulously at the side that never says no and is always ready to take on new challenges and adventures. I can feel the tension between the two sides of my head.

But I know what all of this is. I've experienced it before and it will pass. It's kind of like the opposite of the quiet before the storm. It's the storm before the quiet. Come race day(s), everything will be ok. I will trust my training. I will trust myself and the friends and coaches that have helped me to prepare for this race. I will remember the $2800 I raised for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society and all the people that donated that money to help me to get here. Race weekend is a celebration. It is not the be all end all of everything. It is simply the finish line. The close of another great journey that I'm sad to see coming to an end.

I will get there. I will do it. I have faith in everything I've done up until this point. But that doesn't mean that I won't still quietly freak out until it happens.