On Sunday I will run my first real race. I use the term "race" loosely. Others will be racing to win; I will be fighting to finish. I ran eight miles the other day; it was the farthest distance I've ever run in my life. And it felt kinda good. In that "I think I'm going to die, but I can't believe I'm accomplishing this" sort of way.
Ten miles. With 30,000 runners. Yes, I am scared spitless. I'm mostly nervous about having to use the bathroom part-way through the race and not being able to find a place to go. I've run 5Ks before, but that's child's play compared to this. I don't know what to expect, so I've made up this whole scary "running world" in my head.
I'm not looking to set any records. This time, I'm aiming for finishing. If I survive this, I'll work on getting faster for the next one.
And maybe-- hopefully-- one of these days I won't feel the need to classify myself as a Wannabe Runner.
