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- October 13, 2016 by AliThings That Make Having Crohn's Easier (And A Few Things That Make It Worse)
- October 11, 2016 by AliWhere I'm At Right Now
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I Will Run A Marathon Tomorrow
So the Big Day is finally here.
Well. It’s tomorrow.
Today is all about resting, relaxing, hydrating, carbing, salting, driving and outlet shopping.
What? There are outlets on the way to the Hamptons…I don’t think it’s weird that my priorities today include discount shopping.
I’m very overwhelmed by the abundance of kind thoughts being sent my way this week. Yesterday felt like my birthday at the office.
My coworkers made generous donations toward my fundraising efforts.
Check it out. Second place for the time being! (And I’d really like to stay there, so if you’d like to make a last-minute contribution, there’s still time. If every reader donated just $15–$20 today, I’d have second place locked down.)
They gave me cards…
The one signed by the entire company actually made my cry. Then again, everything this week makes me cry.
And they gave me presents.
Is it weird that everyone knew to give me a lot of food? I guess my passions in life are obvious.
Yesterday was a really great day. It was insanely busy at the office, but I was feeling awesome all day.
And when it was finally time to leave work, my coworkers made a Jazz Hand Tunnel through which I exited.
It. Was. Fantastic.
So I left the office smiling like a fool, ran a few errands, did my laundry and started packing.
I came home to another adorable Good Luck card from my college roommate.
People know me so well.
I met a friend of mine who is a boy and who, yes, is my boyfriend, for dinner. We ate early, watched some “Modern Family” and got plenty of quality sleep last night.
That nice boyfriend of mine also came bearing more gifts, including a card that made me cry over my sushi (yup). He visited three Lululemon stores in order to get the bag I’ve been eyeing for weeks and that he “knew I’d never buy myself.”
True story. And inside the bag was the sweatshirt he also “knew I wasn’t ever going to buy.”
And then I cried a little more, probably into my soy sauce. Poor guy went to three Lululemons.
People kept telling me the night before the night before is the most important, and I’m proud to report that I got tons of quality shut-eye.
Coach Cane wanted me to run two miles this morning. “Nothing approaching marathon goal pace,” he said. “Just enough to stay loose. Remember, caged animal on race day. GRRRR!”
I love him.
So I ran two miles, Handsome Friend in tow. Or just…with me. Whatever.
We ran to Central Park because I am cheesy and I wanted to go to the spot “where it all started.”
I filmed my Run For The Rabbit stuff back in April, just a few days after moving into my new apartment. My life was at a major turning point at the time.
I had gone through a miserable breakup, moved into a new apartment and was, apparently, about to start a 20-week marathon training program. Holy overwhelming.
These weeks have changed my life. I’ve met incredible people. I’ve pushed my physical and mental limits. I’ve trained for a freakin’ marathon during a Crohn’s flare-up.
So today I went back to that place where I first began this whole process.
And I jumped.
Because what else would I do, really?
In 30 minutes, I’ll grab my carefully packed bags, load up the rental car and drive out to the Hamptons.
False. I won’t drive. But I’ll be a really good passenger. I made a mix for the ride.
I’ll eat lunch. I’ll go shopping. I’ll check into the hotel. I’ll see if there’s a pool. You never know.
I’ll get dinner with my fellow Run For The Rabbit runners.
I’ll hopefully get some sleep.
And tomorrow, I will run a marathon.
The conditions may not be ideal — right now Whorish Mama Nature is trying to tell me she’s going to dump rain on me with a solid side of humidity.
To her, I say, bring it. I’m still going to run 26.2 miles. I may sweat just a little more (if that’s possible), but it’s still going to happen.
My brother, Ryan, also thinks Mother Nature is a bitch that I shouldn’t bother with. His reaction to the weather forecast: “100% chance of success and fun.” I like it.
I can’t wait to see my friends and family out there. I can’t wait to lace up my shoes. I can’t wait to get a big fat kiss from my boyfriend at the finish line. Though in an email last night, my mom politely inquired whether “it’s set in stone that he gets the first hug and kiss, or could we possibly make it a group hug?”
That made me cry, too.
And I got some solid, last-minute advice from my Uncle Glenn: “I have a few ideas to help you. This coming from somebody who once ran 20 yards to avoid getting stung by a wasp, then had a beer and took a two hour nap. This all qualifies me to give advice. So, the night before the race, get hammered. It will calm your nerves. You seem to have a problem with your nutrition while running. So at mile 7, have two chocolate cupcakes from your favorite baker. That should last until about mile 15, when you should have a pint of your favorite frozen yogurt from 16 Handles. Nearing mile 20, a nice juice box full of your favorite boxed wine should last you for a while. At the end of the race is Handsome Friend/Boyfriend with a bottle of champagne and Moose Tracks ice cream. Just a thought.”
I may not take all of his advice, but I think it’s pretty solid, and I’m sure Coach Cane would agree.
Alright, one last bit of gushing and then I promise, I’m done being sappy…
I am so deeply grateful for all of the love, support, well wishes, donations and kind words you have all given me over the past 500 or so miles. You will all be on my mind when the miles start to hurt tomorrow. You have motivated me, inspired me, gone running with me, emailed me, Tweeted me, hugged me, cried with me and pushed me. You embraced your inner sweatiness and bought Sweat shirts to help me raise $6,000 for charity (that’s right — that much money just from shirt sales, which is mind-blowing).
I promise to do my very best to make you all proud tomorrow. Thank you for being so nice.
It’s go time!
The next time you hear from me, I’ll be a marathoner!
And I’ll probably be limping or crying next to my foam roller. But I’ll still be a marathoner!