It's true, I am a total spaz.

I hate Mondays. Every Monday I feel like a kid with ADD. I can't focus and I don't get much done. In my state of complete distraction, I decided to look up some info on Heartland. I printed off the course map, elevation chart, and aid station list with mileage. I read the information guide. I looked up all of the entrants. Other than one 26 year old, I am the youngest runner in the 50. The next youngest woman is 32, after that 38 and most of the women are in their 40s and 50s The winner from the last two years is not signed up. I didn't recognize any other names in the 50 and only a handful in the 100. There's another 27 year old in the 100, but John and I are among the 4 youngest runners in both races. Ultras are definitely a case where old age and treachery triumph over youth and enthusiasm.

Since that wasn't enough to get me to quittin' time, I pulled out the aid station sheet and started making a pace sheet. For several different paces. The good thing about this is that it required me to use my calculator so at least it looked like I was working. The bad thing is that then I started to freak out. So I opened up my training log spreadsheet (yes I know, I am also a total dork in addition to being a spaz) and started looking at my training schedule and how much time I have left. Halfway through and I'm much lower on my miles than I had hoped, but I justify that with the fact I'm running well and I'm healthy. And 40 miles a week is nothing to sneeze at (for me).

Should I get a pacer? If not a pacer, maybe at least someone to crew for John and me. A friendly face at miles 17, 25, and 33 might be nice. Who would want to crew? I don't need a crew. But it would be nice...

And on and on. Luckily by this time it was almost 4:30 so I could head home. But I officially had my first case of pre-race jitters and the race is about 6 weeks away. If I didn't have a goal, I wouldn't care. My official goal is a sub-10 hour finish. My unofficial goal I will not speak out loud or actually put into print. I bet you're wondering what all is on my pace card. Even John doesn't know that one. Like I told a friend, while the first goal is to finish and have fun, it's hard not to daydream about winning the Olympics.

An easy 8 mile recovery run wasted all of my nervous energy. I should go to bed early, tomorrow is another early morning ass-kicking with KT.

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