February
27, 2017
Greetings from
seven weeks ago,
You probably
weren’t expecting to hear from me this way.
The thing is I know you well enough to realize that right now you won’t
listen to anyone, maybe not even me. But
I’m writing to you anyway.
I am you 49 days
ago. Sitting in your den in flannel
pajama pants and an old sweater, sipping a cup of coffee, looking at the time
stretching between this morning and your version of me. You are starting your day in a city you have
been thinking about for over a year. You
are nervous, excited, and maybe a little crazy.
I bet you have
been imagining pains, twinges in your ankle, little knots in your calf, the
occasional lightning bolt from your knee.
They are nothing. You might have been feeling strange, started thinking
maybe it’s the flu or dengue fever or bubonic plague. It’s not.
It’s in your head. Trust me.
I know this week
you have been second-guessing yourself.
You have been wondering if you trained enough, if you put in the miles.
I’m here to tell you to stop worrying. I’m
watching from here, 49 days ago, in the middle of your training for Boston, and
you can take it from someone who knows: you have done the work. Stop overthinking it. Yes it will be a
challenge but keep this in perspective.
You’re going to run 26.2 miles, not launch a probe to Mars.
Your legs won’t
turn as fast as they did 20 years ago, but you have experience and that will
matter. You will remember at some point
today that you wanted to fully enjoy this marathon, not try to defeat it. So remember it at mile one.
In a while you
will get on a bus and the noise level will go up and it will not subside until
you finish the race. You are going to
connect with athletes like you from all over the world, and they will bring the
same energy you have been building up since this morning when I write to
you. Embrace that energy because it is
what you will remember the most later.
Have
confidence in what you earned over the last several months. Three marathons, more than a thousand miles
of training. Hill repeats, speedwork, strength
training. Gallons of water. A hundred of
packs of GU. Going to bed too early
getting up too early so you can run. Going to yoga so you can run. Eating things that are good for you so you can
run. Running so you can run.
Every day is
filled with a million possibilities, random intersections of the world and your
trajectory. Those are none of your business
right now. You can’t prepare for every conceivable
thing that happens out there but this is not your first rodeo. Wear whatever is comfortable. In ten miles it won’t matter if your socks
don’t match your shorts. Don’t judge the
day on the first mile, for good or bad. Don’t be tempted slower runners or
intimidated by faster runners. You know
when to push, when to back off; pace is everything. Be yourself.
In twenty miles that is all you will have left and that’s when you’ll
need it most.
Blisters heal.
Sweat will dry and wash away. Toenails
grow back. Muscles recover. Tears will pass. The pain will pass. It will all pass except for what Sheehan told
you to reach for:
“Excellence is not something attained and put in a trophy
case. It is not sought after, achieved and, thereafter, a steady state. It is a
momentary phenomenon, a rare conjunction of body, mind, and spirit at one's
peak. Should I come to that peak I cannot stay there. I must start each day at
the bottom and climb to the top. And then beyond that peak to another and yet
another.”
The Boston
Marathon is going to test you but take it from your best friend; you have done
your homework. Your job now is to lace
up and go. To be the best version of you
out there no matter what the next few hours brings.
Enjoy
every mile, even the ones you are afraid of right now.
Hope
this finds you taking me with you,
David
Copyright
© 2017 David Smith
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