I wish I could have kept up with my feelings here during my marathon training, but whatever it is that compels me to write seemed to be quiet for the past couple of months.
So here I am, in the final week of my pre-marathon taper, and I’m a bundle of energy and anxiety. I want to binge, but I’m not hungry. I want to shop, but there’s nothing I need. I want to have lots of sex, but… well… I don’t have a down side to that.
I feel like my insides are being twisted up like a wind-up toy. Dust is collecting in the corners, and I need to open a window and air out. Chemicals are dancing their way through my body in a too-crowded space, like sexy people in a popular night club with elbow-room only.
Physically, I’m happy to get a break from the high-mileage training program. I don’t particularly love running in the dark, and daylight is shrinking with every passing day. Emotionally, I am craving my favorite outlet like a junkie in rehab.
Just one more week of holding back. Seven days. Then I can unleash the beast within me with a 26.2-mile, limit-pushing challenge, the likes of which most of the population will never know.
Mind, get ready. Body, don’t fail me now.