It is a tough thing to go off plan at the last minute. Or maybe that’s just me. Went off plan in Sydney with a spot of accidental racing and I’m really glad that we did given that Kate is doing the 10 rather than the 42.2 to make sure she recovers from her hip injury well.
I usually know exactly what a race means. Because I trained for it. But this? I don’t know what this means. As a result, it just seems kind of empty. It seems wrong to forge on ahead and leave a team member behind too. I’m sure that’s part of it. And where is the achievement in that?
My superpower seems to be to not get injured. And I nearly rolled my ankle twice on my run today which says a whole lot about where my head is at. I feel pretty beat up if I’m honest. I’m on super strong antibiotics that make my head fuzzy and my body tired. My leg still hurts. I feel sad for no reason and all the reasons. A race should be a celebration but there doesn’t seem a whole lot to celebrate.
I’m hoping that it all comes good by Sunday and I find some way to find myself in this race. Some way for it to feel significant or important or meaningful, because then I might feel that way too. So then when I go get my tattoo afterwards I won’t feel like a fraud.