Didn't get to bed last night until 10:30 thanks to the band playing downstairs. Then I had to get up at 3am to get ready and catch the shuttle for a 6am flight. Arrived in Portland this morning, rented a car, and immediately took off for the mountains of Western Maine.
8 years ago I was a ski instructor here at Sugarloaf, and it's been fun reliving old memories of the mountain and the nearby town where I used to live. I had lunch at the tavern where I moonlighted as a dishwasher that winter, saw that the video rental store is still alive and well even in this age of Netflix, and poked around on the trails for a bit.
At the pasta dinner I sat with a few other runners, all older and all veterans of several Boston Marathons. One of them reckoned it's become a total shitshow over the past decade, but he's still glad he had a chance to participate in the ones he did. When I told them about my own Boston debacle, they all agreed that I should just keep plugging along, and some day it will happen.
While talking with Stevie tonight, she asked if I was nervous. I allowed that yes, there is a certain amount of anxiety I'm feeling at the moment, but I believe in the morning I'll be running on adrenaline and instinct, so I'll be okay by then.
All that's left is a good night's sleep. Catch ya on the other side, internet...
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