Twenty-Six Point Two

It's really here.

That thing we've been planning for, plodding for, panicking for (OK, that's just me -- Stephen's cool as a cucumber) since late July. In just 2 days, 15 hours, 19 minutes, and 10 seconds, we'll be at the start of the Philadelphia Marathon.

Stephen will be somewhere up near the sub-3 hour finishers, and he's hoping to qualify for Boston this year. Overachiever! I'll be in the mix of 3:59:59 (anything sub-4 hour) hopefuls probably freaking out about if my shoelaces are tied too tight. Or maybe I'll still be in line -- legs crossed -- waiting for a vacant Port-O-John (with toilet paper, please!). I sincerely hope not, but it's possible.

Anyway, after a short wait in a sweaty, spandex-y human traffic jam, we'll be off for our 26.2 mile journey through the city of brotherly love . . . only to emerge several hours true marathoners. With all the black toenails, bloody nipples, and stress fractures to show for it.

Actually, it isn't nearly that bad. And we've both fared well overall. Still, please keep your fingers crossed!

I'm now debating whether or not I'll bring tunes with me. I've done about half my training with music, but I've never completed a race while rocking out with my [fuel belt] out. However, I discovered through a clever experiment that music actually improves my time. For example, I ran a 20-miler without my musical entourage in tow in exactly 3 hours. 20 miles with music? 2:57! Runners out there know how significant three minutes can be. And it might mean the difference between a finish in the 3's or 4's (though, after my sickness a couple weeks ago, I'll be happy to finish at all -- no lie).

FYI: I'm not planning to focus much of this blog on running. I guess my nerves are getting the best of me. So . . . think of your neverhomemakers on Sunday morning starting at 7AM.

<3

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