Yesterday I did my last long run before traveling. I probably did about 6 miles - I don't use a fitbit or any distance tracking technology. I prefer to just run and lose myself in the moment. But it felt like about 6 miles, and it felt pretty good. At sea level. Alone. All will be different at 8,000 feet with 35,000 runners as company. I've been describing my state of mind lately as one in which the level of my excitement about the trip almost matches the level of my anxieties. Almost, not quite.
A dear colleague and friend stopped by my office on Friday with an incredibly thoughtful and perfect gift. A ziplock bag that meets TSA requirements for size, filled with all the stuff that will come in really handy on my ridiculously long flight - inflatable neck pillow, eye shades, face wipes, hand sanitizer, reading glasses, small notebook, pen. Really sweet. Almost made me cry.
And today I pulled out my new suitcase and started trying to figure out what to pack. It is really odd to think that this Thursday I head off on this really long journey without my kids, without my husband, and without any traveling companion. I guess people do these kinds of trips all the time. People do, not me.
As Marcus chanted to himself on his way to Guatemala to manage his anxieties, just one step at a time, keep putting one foot in front of the other...
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