Two weeks until the marathon.
Actually, two weeks from now, I will be back in the homeland with a medal around my neck. In theory.
I’m starting to get excited, and nervous, and all of those wonderful things that come before a big race. I’m also getting reacquainted with my oh-so-familiar neurosis. Studying the course map, figuring out logistics, meticulously planning every detail of the trip.
I used to take a lot of good-natured ribbing over my dedication to pre-race rituals. I take a great deal of comfort in routine. The less I have to think about come race weekend/day, the better. Stressing about logistics on race day never bodes well for me, and after doing this racing thing for 15 years, I have a pretty good idea of what it takes to keep my nerves under control.
The only major detail I have left to iron out is dinner on Friday night. I didn’t sign up for the official pasta dinner. This might sound snooty, but in San Diego last spring I wasn’t thrilled with having to get up and stand in line to refill my own water over and over again. If it’s possible to have a relaxing dinner before the race, I’d like to make that happen. Should I have thought about this and made a reservation somewhere awhile ago? Yes. Right about the time I should have booked a hotel room.
But I’m hopeful that there are dinner reservations out there, just as there was a hotel room waiting for me when I got around to taking care of it. Even if there aren’t reservations to be found, I am somewhat confident in my backup plan: