Puddle. Pancake. Tacos. Park. The boy has taste, and boy, does he love the letter P. He is also pronouncing “bus” as “bu-puh” all of a sudden, even though he also loves to say “sssssssss….!” like a snake.
We are getting ready to leave for Oregon on Friday morning. I am compulsively checking the weather (praying for NO rain on Sunday morning) and worrying about leaving Charlie with my mom and dad. You know, it always SOUNDS like a good idea to leave my child and get a “break” for a few days. But then we get closer, reality hits, and I start freaking out a little. Not that my parents aren’t perfectly capable–they are. Goodness knows I have relied on them PLENTY to get through this training. I would not have been able to do all this without them, especially my mom. I just miss the little man so much when I am gone. It is a positive thing, I guess, for me to remember that I have a life outside of my child, but being “Charlie’s mom” is pretty damn great thing, too.
I am excited about the race. Eating pasta like a madwoman, still following my running schedule like the anal-retentive that I am, hoping that I come out of this thing all right, hoping that all this training and hard work pays off. I don’t really have a time expectation, but I just want to be able to finish it and say that I felt good. I think any reasonably healthy person can run a marathon, but most people DON’T. I want to say that I did it, and I loved it.
Fingers crossed.
