In exactly 68 hours, I will be running in my first ever half-marathon {a what?}. I've been running regularly for more than a year, and I started really training (running more than 6 miles for a long run each week) in January. My longest run was 11 miles, which I completed a couple of weeks ago, and I haven't gone more than a day without some kind of run (even if it was only 1.5 miles) for more than 6 months. I've purchased and run many miles in my race outfit and shoes; I've run parts of the course and driven the full course. By every standard I can find on the internet, I'm as prepared as I can be.
And yet, this week I have been subject to crippling anxiety.
I call it crippling because I know that it has the ability to destroy my ability to run this race. I call it crippling because I feel desperate, breathless, and isolated. I call it crippling because this truly is the place where the physical meets the mental and causes me to implode.
The fact is that I know I'm capable of completing this race. I have a ton of confidence in my ability and in my training, but I am terrified of the other pieces of the puzzle.
What if I didn't actually register?
What if I show up late or sleep in?
What if my fuel food {aka Twizzler bites} fall out of my iPod holder {aka an old sock}?
What if I choke on water?
What if my allergies are so bad I can't breathe?
What if I catch a cold? Or worse, the stomach flu?
What if this is the week my insoles are too worn out and cause me foot cramps?
What if...
A lot of people think {and say to me} that anxiety over a race or a big event is "normal" and it's something I can control.
You'll be fine.
What are you worried about?
Get some rest and don't worry about it.
The reality is, I'm not sure I have a ton of control over my anxiety. Now, I'll put out a caveat: I have never been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder, nor do I have a daily issue with anxiety. So I cannot speak for those who suffer with this regularly. But I can tell you that my body responds to anxiety whether I think about it or not. I have trouble sleeping; I wake up in a cold sweat; I have horrendous dreams about the "worst case scenario." My digestion situation is questionable, and I've even gotten violently ill. {And the worst part about this week is that running is my go-to anxiety reliever, but I have to taper back in order to have fresh legs for the race...rawr!!!}
It's as though my heart is starving for rest. I'm not starving for, "Everything is going to be OK." I'm not starving for, "Even if you don't finish, look at how far you've come." I'm not starving for, "Just the training is an accomplishment in itself." I'm not even starving to not run the race. In fact, I have this feeling that quitting would only increase my anxiety. I am starving for rest, for release, for relief. I am starving for those great deep breaths at the end of a long run, for that shudder as sweat begins to cool on my back.
Between now and 68 hours from now, I know I will be drenched in anxiety, dwelling in this starvation. I know the true cure lies at that finish line, but I'm wishing I had some better quick fixes to keep myself stable until I get there.
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