D-day

My daily runs have been exercise. I haven't really considered them "Training." But as I sit here a day and change away from my first weight-loss mile stone, the 5K, I am jittery as a jumping bean. Let's be honest, I am not going to WIN, but something about a REAL race with a REAL number pinned on my shirt seems so scary. I imagine the seasoned runners zooming past me while I do my best to just keep on going. I am trying to meditate and imagine the run, the people passing, the heavy breath in my lungs, my tired body, and a mind that says, "Just keep going, don't worry about them." It's like what some people do who prepare for natural child-birth, it's going to hurt, but it's coming. I don't really have a time goal in mind at this point, my goal is to finish, without stopping, without walking, run the whole way, even if I am dead-last. I have done this before, ten years ago--Cross Country in High School, which was cut short by a very convenient injury. At the course for my first 5K in the cool autumn air of Michigan, I stretched, practiced strides, did high knee-ups in place, and slurped a packet of "Energy" goo that looked like Swamp-Monster snot. Then BAM--the race started, and I started--way too fast. The adrenaline of the moment pushed me to run with the lead group; that lasted about two minutes. I felt fire in my chest, and I couldn't go on, so I stopped, bent over to gulp air into my hungry lungs. Then I walked, then trotted, then walked again, until I felt the energy to jog the rest of the course, which I later found out I cut out an entire .5 miles, woops. So much for energy goo. This time I know I am going to feel the adrenaline of the moment, but I am going to keep a slow, steady pace so I can win in my own way--finish without stopping.