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So we’re in the final stretch.
I hate this part.
It’s not because of the taper. It’s not the anticipation. It’s not even the knowledge that at some point during the Boston Marathon I will doubt myself.
The part I hate most about the home stretch to Hopkinton is that for the next week and a half, I am going to be walking around scared, frightened and jumpy.
Luau! You have nothing to be scared of! You’ve got 5 marathons (and 1 Boston) under your belt. You know what to expect! What’s there to be scared of?
It’s not the race that I’m scared of people. Marathons are hard; marathons hurt, but man do I love them.
It’s everything else…and I mean EVERYTHING!
Everywhere I look is a potential hazard.
A toy on the floor, picking up the kids, going to the bathroom in the middle of the night – each and every one of these things, along with everything else in the world, is an injury waiting to happen – a slip, a pull, a stub.
That coughing classmate of Katie’s, the sniffling parking attendant at Jess’ work, that feverish looking checkout clerk at the grocery store – they are all out to get me sick right before the start.
Even food, glorious food, is fraught with danger – does it smell a little funny? is it gonna give me an upset stomach? could there be e.coli in it?
I am a scared little boy right now.
Don’t ask me to get anything off the high shelf. Don’t ask me to pick up anything heavy. Don’t breath near me if you even have a hint of a sniffle (I don’t care if you say it’s allergies!). Don’t walk anywhere near my feet. If you need to talk to me, call me…no, better yet, don’t – I don’t want to stumble as I walk to get the phone.
I would say that I just want to curl up in bed and sleep until the 18th, but I’m afraid of sleeping funny and waking up with a crick in my neck!
Yes, I hate this part.
Be careful fellow Boston Marathoners, you never know where the next injury is coming from.
Excuse me while I go wrap myself in Charmin and bubble wrap.