Seven Days

One week from right now, I'll be experiencing some reality--finding out if my training was true, or just truthiness.

Seven days, and I'll be running the goal race that has guided my recreational hours since August.

I will look myself in the face at the starting line and inquire, "are you really willing? Are you able? Did you train with integrity, or did you just get by?"

Seven days and there will be no faking, no cramming, no room for equivocation.

The training was either enough, or it was not.

I either did it with sufficient faithfulness, or I didn't.

I will either push myself past my limits, or I will accept some perceived limit along the way.

I will either race wisely, or I will make a costly mistake.

I will either focus, or listen to voices in my head that belong to a doubting desk jockey who must be slain every time I do this type of race.

Seven days from now, the Houston Marathon will be run, and I will be one in the crowd, running alone against myself, and I'll be running together with the support of thousands, and best of all a few friends.

On paper I should be able to run about 3:40:00. Some of the speed work would indicate a faster potential, but the endurance workouts negate that. And again, we don't run the races on paper. I've never run anywhere near 26 miles maintaining an 8:24 per mile pace. So, what gets you off the paper and onto the roads? What gets your feet moving in the direction of the unknown?

Faith--But not leap in the dark faith. Faith built on workouts, past performances and pace charts, kind of like a kissing cousin of being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. (Hebrews 11:1)

So, I intend to line up with the 3:40 pace group, discipline my pace through the first 20 miles or so, and see who gets dropped.

Me?

Or the group.

We'll see. In seven days.