Some kind of miracle got my tush out of the bed before 7am and mom and I were on our way from San Diego to LA by 8am. 120 miles later, we were lost in LA, somewhere in the vicinity of Dodger Stadium (thanks for nothing, Google Maps), with no stadium in view. Luckily, mom was zen, I found my brain and we finally found the stinkin’ stadium and expo:
These Ohio-girls were uber-impressed with the rosey-smelling portopotties and porto-sinks with real soap, water and paper towels. But I’ll bet my race bib they won’t be so lovely tomorrow morning… All tinkled out, we wandered through the chaos collecting samples, coupons and fliers, trying not to get trampled by the sample-hungry masses, sipping coffee and doing shots:
|Shh, don’t tell! This was our 2nd round of POM Wonderful “shots!”|
|POM for Pam|
With our bags full of Larabars, buy-2-get-1 socks, an LA t-shirt for the hub, and a bunch of other
crap goodies, we stretched, got back in the car and drove 120 miles back to San Diego. We picked up Jared and headed to Souplantation for a feast. And by feast, I mean FEAST. I housed two gargantuan plates of salad with all the good stuff and went to town on the (hey, I’m carbo loading!) all-you-can-eat self-serve fro-yo. Yummers.
|I beg to differ, Souplantation.|
Now we’re home from our 4pm dinner, getting ready for bed at 8pm because we’re leaving for LA at 3:30
in the middle of the night in the morning! Golly, am I a marathoner or grandma?
In 12 hours, I’ll be running the LA Marathon. I’m both focused and freaked out. I’m a tornado of emotions: excited, anxious, confident, fearful, keyed up, impatient, frustrated, hopeful, ready. Truth be told, I am not ready in the sense of being “trained.” Sarah Soon-To-Be (who’s in the same boat with only 5 weeks of training) said it perfectly: “My body might not be trained to run 26.2 this time, but it’ll be ABLE.”
I catch myself questioning my sanity, thinking: “why in the heck do I do this to myself???” but quickly snap back to reality. Truly, I wouldn’t trade this for the world. I love this stuff. I love this crazy ride, the adventure, the whole wild, overwhelming tornado of emotions. It’s an addictive, intoxicating, whirlwind that reminds me I’m alive. And I’m so intensely grateful to be alive, which reminds me of my favorite passage from Christopher McDougall’s book, Born To Run:
One of my favorite momma-isms is: “Pain is a part of life. Misery is an option.” Rain, shine or torrential downpours, I’ll be smiling. True, I have no idea what’s going to happen, but I’m really excited to find out–to put my training to work and “love the Beast.”