if it doesn't kill me...

(photo from ehow.com--I'm in UT and have no access to our photos)

Let's just hope the saying is true. Tomorrow is October, which means that today is 3 days away from the St. George marathon. Which means I should be totally prepared.

Shoes I love that have never given me so much as a blister. Check.
Shorts I don't even notice I'm wearing. Check.
Shirt that doesn't rub me weird. Check.
Socks that don't still feel rough after 18 + miles. Check.
Months of long-run Saturdays and fast-run weekdays to build endurance and stamina. Check. I think.
Positive mindset. Check. I hope.
Running buddy. Check. Maybe.

Turns out after twisting my dad's arm and begging him to be crazy enough to run this with me, he is now running further and faster than me. I think I may lose my running partner halfway through when I can't hold him back any longer. But hey, nothing wrong with giving my dad something to brag about. I can live with that. My goal is to finish without getting picked up by the slow bus. That's not something you'd wanna write home about.

So I've got this comparison of the marathon to something else I can first-handedly relate to--it's a comparison I've briefly heard by others, and one that probably only confirms that I'm crazy to willingly sign myself up for this. I once read someone saying they're picturing their upcoming childbirth as a marathon: you prepare for months, when the gun goes off (when you go into labor) you give it your best and feel nervous and excited all at once, it lasts longer than you thought it would and hurts more than you wanted it to, and in the end you have this great euphoric feeling of accomplishment, and a beautiful, squished baby to show for it.

Now speaking from the opposite end of the spectrum, I can try to compare the marathon to childbirth. Naturally.

• Sooo excited to find the long-awaited news to be true when the pregnancy test was positive(excited to hear we made it into the lottery for the marathon)
• Start counting down days when we got the due date (thinking we have plenty of time to train when we know the marathon date is months away)
• Read every book, search every online site, and ask every post-pregnant person I know for advice (read a book, search Runners World online, and ask every marathon runner I know how they survived)
• Take a birthing class to convince myself I can do it natural...let the training begin! Be embarrassed when all other natural-birthers are much more into the class than Jon and I (start training from square one: run 1 mile after not running for over a year. Die. Be embarrassed when all other runners on the trail think I'm not fit to be out there and I realize I'm not)
• Get all necessary baby gear to be prepared for our new guy so he doesn't have live in the nude and sleep on carpet. (get all necessary running gear so I don't have to keep yanking my shorts down from my ribcage or filing blisters off my pinky toes. Oh, and to survive training in the humidity...that means no 100% cotton for me!)
• Practice breathing, eat right (well at least I thought about it), do prego pilates, and use my commute to walk faster than ever and get a killer prego workout (pay attention to breathing, eat better (again, sometimes I think about it) be regular with runs and start adding up the miles like a crazy lady on the weekends)
• Get really excited when it's just around the corner and I'm dying to meet our little man and know what he looks like (start to get excited when I'm dying to be done with the training and wondering if I'll be living at the end of 26.2 miles)
• Labor! Fast, regular, tight and painful contractions, heading to the hospital--yes, on foot, the story is true. This is just the beginning, making myself mentally prepared that it WILL get a lot worse. (The gun goes off and I start with 7,200 other people who hope to cross the finish line that day. Fast, regular, hopefully not tight or painful strides, preparing myself mentally that this is just the beginning, and it WILL get worse)
• Breathe even when I don't think you can anymore, because I'm losing feeling in all my limbs and face and that's bad. Accept oxygen mask. Remember it's too late to go back now.(breathe even when my muscles tense up at mile 21 my hamstring feels like it's going to rip apart. Remember I can't turn around now or I'd for sure be on the slow bus)
• Push even when I think pushing is crazy and I don't believe in it and I don't want to do it, because they say I have to. Push during every contraction that is now only 10-15 seconds after the last one, even though I'm falling dead asleep between every one because I haven't slept for 24 hours. (push myself to keep my pace even when I'm starting to think any pace is crazy and I want to fall asleep between every step. Push myself even when all I want to do is stop running. Remember I must be crazy to do this)
• Say I can't do it even though I know I have to. Try to think of my baby when they tell me to. Tell myself my body was made to do this but think actually the whole idea seems crazy since the head does NOT feel like it's made to go out where it's supposed to go out. (Say I have to do it, because I know it's a mental game. Remember I've trained for this. I can do this. Remind myself never to run another marathon again)
• Feel like my body split in half when the babe arrives in his glory. Lie there helpless as they lay him on my chest. Feel like it's so unfair that they sew me up and punch my stomach down with nothing but a lousy numbing spray that "doesn't work everywhere" they tell me. Noticed. (Cross the finish line and feel like my muscles are ripping apart or wish they could. Stand there helpless as they take my bib number.) Feel like it's unfair that my 30-years-younger-than-my-dad body had nothing against his speed.
• Hidden under the shock of having made it, having done what I'd wondered all along if I could do, was this awesome feeling of accomplishment. Feel like a million bucks when they swaddle our little screaming bundle and he quiets right up as they place him in my arms. He's ours. We made him. Eat breakfast. Say hmmm, so that's it! I guess we're parents! (Finisher. Get that awesome feeling of accomplishment. Runners euphoria and/or complete exhaustion set in. Grab a free banana and water bottle, snag a finishers medal, and go find the same prize I got at the end of childbirth. A kiss from my lover. And that same cute bundle of joy, but this time he'll smile back at me.)

So what's the moral of the story? Getting pregnant = signing up for having a baby. Registering for a marathon = running 26.2 miles. I knew what they were when I got myself into them. What is this sick obsession I have with pushing my body to painful limits like that? (Not to say I understood them to their full extent, but, I knew they'd be hard. That's all I'm saying.) I'm glad to have signed up for both, and glad to soon have experienced them both for myself.

But maybe next time I'll take some drugs.

And maybe next time I'll run a 5K.