Let’s get one thing straight, I still don’t like you.
It’s the night before the half marathon and I’m more than nervous about the time we’re going to spend together tomorrow. All week I’ve wanted to write you. I had wanted to capture exactly how I was feeling today, to capture exactly how I’ve felt all week. But each time I really thought about you I got nauseous.
As much as I hate to admit it, you’re not as bad as I once thought. That runner’s high thing is still a mystery, but I respect what you’re all about. I’ve grown physically and mentally over the last three months and I know that’s all because of you.
I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be. My shoes and clothes are laid out and the iPod’s charged with Miley Cyrus’ The Climb programmed to play at mile 12.5. Amber made me do a visualization exercise and the alarm is set for 3:15am.
I still don’t think we’re going to be life-long friends, but, Running, can we make it through tomorrow?