If only my confidence matched the complement

Joint Commissions is gone.  We can now breath again at work.

I received an email from my mom (love you!) today who, as one might expect, gives me much more credit than I deserve:

"So the big Bear Mountain looms next week.  You've done this before so I'd think it would be a calm anticipation.  But, you've done this before and know exactly what you're getting into, so I guess it's an antsy anticipation!"

I read this just after getting home from my long run in which my mind was in full ohmyohmyohmy what-have-I-got-myself-into?!?! mode.  It is SOOOOOO not a calm ancitipation.  Hah!  It is the hurry up and wait version of Joint Commissions, only this time all I have is myself to exorcise the demons. 

I remember from my first ultra (Bear Mtn last year) being consciously aware of the invisible line that, when crossed, meant I was then heading into mileage territory never before experienced.  At that point it meant I had crossed 26 miles and had another five or so to go.  Five is a relatively calm number.  What is five more when you have already done five times as much? 

This year, I will cross that invisible line at mile 31.  Remaining, for my *ahem* pleasure, will be another 20 miles.  Twenty.  TWENTY MORE!  The statement is no longer calming -- what is 20 more miles when you have already done 1.5 as much?  

If you just shook your head in amazement at the executive functioning "skills" that got me into this situation then, well, I second your sentiments.  If you nearly wet yourself out of fear for me, I third your sentiments.  

Today I was testing what carrying my hydration bag sans-bladder for the purpose of gear (Clif Mojo bars, extra socks, Aquafore, head lamp, etc) since the aid stations are just close enough to use a bottle.  I ran in slightly more clothes than I normally would have so as to better prep for what may be 60 degrees or may be 75 degrees.  (Weather.com: figure it out!)  I was breaking in a new pair of shoes (same as two previous pairs) so they'd be good to go.  All the while my mind had a fully schizophrenic time with itself.  The calm, planning, rational part of me said: This feels okay, no problems with anything, this could work for another 8 hours.  The cynical part of me said: What, are you crazy?! Of COURSE it'll blow up by mile 40.  EVERYTHING will chafe during a 10+ hour day.  Of COURSE the bag will get uncomfortable despite carrying less of a load.  Of COURSE you won't want the extra pair of shoes from your drop bag until you are already beyond that aid station. 


I had to stop the mental clamor often.  The mediator: Just remember: eat, drink, pick up your feet, just keep moving.  I'm not so sure that either voice was convinced.

Thankfully, this year I have kittehs to distract me throughout the week.  Merus is being followed by the vet for long-standing gingivitis she acquired before I adopted them, and Sadie was due for a check up.  After the initial rundown with the tech, this is what ensued while waiting for the Dr. O:

Sadie went up and down of her own accord, happy to explore and happy to return for more attention.  She made everyone swoon in her usual Little Princess of Wormness ways.  Merus went up to follow Sadie, remained hunkered in a tightly tucked ball throughout Sadie's examination, gave an occasional meow to remind us she was there and not happy about knowing what was to come.  Merus came down via the vet tech, claws and arms splayed.  I swear her tail sprouted its own paw to hang on for dear life.  They both survived, including the rides on the subway. 

Now what to do -- start my next book?  Clean?  Ideate an itinerary for the week my family visits NYC for graduation?  Attempt to plan and coordinate my gear and plan A/B/C/D... for a race bigger than my know-how (see above)?  Study another section of my licensure review book (what I probably should be doing)?  Research intervention ideas or background info on a few patients that are more difficult (another more acceptable choice)?  Eat some Nutella?  Nap with the kittehs?