Cinderunner

That is me. I am Cinderunner. Remember Cinderella? She was a princess for one night at the ball. She was outfitted in fine clothes, she was chaperoned by royalty, she was driven in the carriage, and she was in heaven all the while.
I want to savor every delicious moment of what is to come. I want to let go of the fear gripping my heart, robbing me of breath, wrenching my chest. I signed up to race, right? So why am I so terrified now? Is it that I cannot let go of the terrible defeat I suffered at Long Beach marathon last October? I was so well trained, so fine tuned, felt so fabulous until mile 17. That is where i began to fantasize about stepping out into traffic and having a car hit me so I could simply stop running. On a guerny sounded better than to keep racing. But how did it all go to pot so quickly? One minute, I was gliding on air, gleefully dancing by thousands of other runners, on pace to run 3:25. That dream came crshing down by the time I got to mile 23, when it was apparent I would not even make my Boston qualifying time of 3:40. I finished Long Beach in 3:49, a huge disappointment knowing the miles and hours I had logged. I staggered over to a trash can and emptied the contents of my stomach for what seemed like an eternity. That race left a bad taste in my mouth, both literally and figuratively.
Ah, but back to Cinderunner, right? So, a running geek like me gets to pretend I am an elite athlete while posing for the media, being catered to with special services (to not have to wait in line for my bib is amazing enough), and getting free running gear. It is all a really sweet deal. The special shuttle (my carriage), my uniform (the dress), and the royal treatment (the VIP tent at the start and finish). I am so grateful and appreciative...and then I remember, it is still a race. I have to actually run this thing and do my best. I will have cameras following me and I will be trying not to lose my cookies at mile 23. How can I possibly remain anonymous with the vomit problem when we are being documented? I am terrifeid of all of these things. And, that is not to even mention the pain we know we will endure by mile 20.
So, I am in a personal battle. I feel like I am in a self-inflicted bubble of wanting to disappear a little. Here we are being interviewed and treated like celebrities, and I simply want to climb into bed and go to sleep for a few days. Really, I have no expectation of winning the competition among the 4 other runners. 2 of them are seasoned, veteron marathoners. The other 2 are men and that means they are competitive by birth right. If I can run a respectable race with my head held high (read: not in the trash can) and represent well for San Diego and all the things I value in my running and life, then I will be elated. I hope to enjoy the run, not melt in the sun (we never train in the heat and there is little sun to speak of at 4 am), and hold it all together for the cameras. I hope we can maintain a comfortable pace and run a negative split. That would be ideal.
For now, I am trying to stay healthy and germ-free. This is almost impossible living with 2 petri dishes, ages 3 and 5. Think good thoughts and please send any positive mantras this way.