I’m on the plane and I suppose I realized there’s something else I wanted I make sure I said.
I am proud of myself.
I am proud of this training. I am proud of this trip. I am proud of this choice, to commit to running a marathon in this crazy way I dreamed up last year. No matter what happens on Sunday, I am proud of getting to this point.
I don’t have a time goal, but I have had to give some thought to where I might finish, to help my parents find me and to figure out my own pacing (especially given that my race-math will be in kilometers, not miles). If I had the best possible race I could have, I think I’d be done around 4:20-4:25. If I have the race that most long runs indicate I can, it would be more like 4:35. And a bad day — just a normal bad day, nothing catastrophic — would be closer to 5 hours. All are equally likely, I think; it will all depend on the day I have.
And that’s wonderful — because no matter what the clock says, no matter how beat up I feel the next day, no matter how many times I worried I wasn’t doing things right, now all I have to do is have the race I’m going to have.
And wow, I am so proud of that.
(I’m runner F5377, but also? Not a lot of Kimras running Berlin. I shouldn’t be hard to find.)