It’s week before my first 35k. First time running a race longer than a half marathon. Actually, it’s a little more than 35k – the trail race is 23 miles, which is 37 kilometers. I guess let’s just wing the last two kilometers.
I was signed up for a 30k which took place last week. I didn’t plan on running a 35k. But I got sick and had to cancel that race – and I couldn’t not run a race this December. Don’t ask me why. I don’t know.
It might have seemed to be a good idea to sign up for the race. Now it doesn’t, anymore. I’m really scared. What am I scared the most of? My hips.
I know I can finish the race. I know I can get across the finish line. I’m stubborn like that – I know that once I set out to run, I’ll complete my goal. But if there’s one thing that has an uncomfortably high probability of stopping me from doing it, it’s my hips, the way my body has been since I was born, the way it grew, and the way it broke – and still does break, sometimes.
I remember Glacier Half and the way my hips gave up around mile ten and it was really only me and my head pushing us forward. What I don’t know is if I would be able to push us forward like that for another thirteen miles instead of only three.
But worries never solved anything anyway, as far as I can remember. Guess we’ll just try and see…