I got my first bug of the year on Tuesday night.  Zoom, smack into the back of my throat.  Yecch.

I’m nearly done with my training now.  I’m closing out my “taper,” which is when you reduce mileage in the last few weeks before the race.  I skipped my midweek run last week; I’ve been working a lot of extra hours at work lately, and the idea of running was just not happening.

On Sunday I cruised out for a eight-miler.  I wasn’t looking to set any goals, just finish it in a reasonable time and in decent condition (“run strong, not fast” has been my mantra lately).  I battled the chilly wind all four miles out, feeling like I just wasn’t getting anywhere.  Things didn’t really improve on the return leg.  I was filled with self-doubt.  Had I done enough long runs?  Am I going to be okay even though I skipped a few medium runs?  Am I too ambitious with my time goals?

What the hell do I think I’m doing?

Some of it melted away once I got home and reviewed my miles splits: 8:13, 8:21, 8:29, 8:13, 8:13, 8:21, 8:18, and 8:11.  My average was just shy of 8:18 (total was 66 minutes), which is pretty damn good news.  I want to run the marathon with an average between 8:30 and 9:00.

Tuesday night I set out for a relaxed two-miler.  These little guys are just to keep the parts moving so they don’t forget what to do later.  I floated the first mile at 8:42, felt good, and decided to continue that pace.  Yeah, mile two came in at 8:04.  I obviously have no concept of how to pace myself and can only do it by accident.

I’m starting to feel cautiously optimistic about Sunday.  I mean, yeah, 26.2 miles is a good haul to drive, let alone run on your own two dumb feet.  But the weather’s looking right, I’ll be running with a pace group, and I’ve got nearly two years of training behind me.  At this point, I’m predicting a time of 3:52.  And I’ll be very happy with that.

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