Marathon countdown

Exactly six days from now, I will be running the Tucson Marathon. Yes, I’m actually doing it. Yes, I’m excited. Yes, I’m paranoid about somehow hurting myself between now and then.

This is it, folks. I’m setting out to accomplish one of my big goals. Assuming I don’t get run over by a wayward airplane or kidnapped for ransom, I will soon be able to call myself a marathoner. That’s such an awesome feeling, and it’s something that will never be taken away from me.

For quite a while now, I’ve been on a mission to prove doctors wrong. As I wrote in this article after my first half-marathon last May, I set out to show myself, and the world, that my life of foot and leg troubles wouldn’t stop me. I’m getting there: My name is forever in the official finishers lists of two half-marathons, as well as the Clarksburg 20-miler. Two weeks ago I ran 22 miles. (If you see a bunch of people running all over Lodi at insanely early hours on Saturday mornings, I’m probably in the crowd.)

I’m so close to the 26.2-mile milestone that I’ve already dreamed about it. In that dream, things didn’t go so well, so hopefully the reality is better. But even in that dream, I finished the marathon.