Marathon

This weekend I will run a marathon. I have heard the trick to these things is to drink plenty of fluids, eat lots of carbs, and get plenty of rest the week prior. I have been resting and drinking fluids, but all I have eaten is crap. CRAP. I had hot wings as a snack yesterday if that is any indication of the crap I have been eating. Clarification – a pound of hot wings.

I have run half marathons in Texarkana, Memphis, New Orleans, and Las Vegas. My first full marathon will be in the big city of Wynne, Arkansas. I wanted a small race for my first 26.2 run. If the 5k in Smackover, AR is any indication of how small town races go, there will not be a pistol fired to signify the beginning of the race. There is just some dude who yells “GO”.

My last race in New Orleans did not go so well. I tripped on a crack at mile 7 and fell into a pothole. I cut open my elbow on the jagged edge of said pothole and had to be taken to the emergency room. During my seven hour stay in the emergency room the doctor told me there was a 50/50 chance my arm would heal. When I calmly asked him what in the hell he meant by correctly, he just looked down at the ground.

If I am going to loose my arm, I want it to be in some cool hiking accident where I am stuck for 385 hours and I have to cut it off myself using a nail file. Not because my dumb ass fell during a race.

Please think about me on Saturday morning. Most people will finish the race in 4 hours or less. Many will do it in less. I am hoping to tie this thing up in just under six. I have my power gels, my amazingly cute brown and pink running outfit, anti-chafing cream so my chunky little inner thighs don’t rub together, and a fully charged ipod. Once a friend of mine gave me a “supplement” right before a race. I sprayed it under my tongue because she said it would help me run faster. I have never tasted the inside of a donkey’s ass, but I’m pretty sure the two are similar. I ran faster, but with my mouth open.

On Saturday all I want to do is finish. By finish I mean without losing control of my bodily functions and messing myself at mile 22. Let’s all keep our fingers crossed.