It’s the only true thing I can say about what comes next.
In all of the bad sleep I’ve had before a race or even before a frighteningly long training run, I have never successfully dreamt the results of the run. I don’t see the future. Even once I’m awake, I have a hard time telling you whether I feel good or bad. Strike that. I usually feel bad, but that doesn’t tend to mean anything about how I’m going to feel once I start running.
To find out how running is going to feel, I need to run. Sometimes my suspicions are born out. I’m garbage. Other times, my legs suddenly come to life and I rage. Sometimes I’m garbage for the first 5-7 miles, and then everything resolves and I come good again. It’s not exactly random, but it’s also not very predictable.
In the run up to a big event (I hesitate to call them races when I’m not racing anyone), my mind tends to become overwhelmed with visualizations, prognostications, etc. about how it’s going to go. One day I’m sure I’m going to be fine. The next I’m fairly confident I’m going to die. It’s all nonsense.
We’ll see what happens. It’ll be an adventure however it goes.
And in fact, I think not knowing is better. I find more hope in it. Because there is a real possibility I’ll be fine, and have fun, and feel good (enough), and it doesn’t even matter that much that I’m carrying an injury. My friends will be there, and race day has an energy that a Wednesday training run doesn’t.
So we’ll see what happens. We’ll see. That will happen later, not now. And everything will be ok, no matter what.