You vs. You

Last year, I ran my first marathon in NYC. A huge group of my friends sporting the cutest "Team Covey" t-shirts (thanks, Scanlan) came out to support and encourage me. I saw Team Covey for the last time at Mile 25. Empire State of Mind was playing on my ipod. I don't know if I've ever been happier. As you round the final corner into Central Park, you see the signs "The Last Mile" ---- "800 Meters" ---- "400 Meters" ---- "200 Meters" and then, the FINISH LINE. I celebrated with a perfect potato trifecta (mashed, fried, baked), apple pie and at least one beer for every mile of the race. At the end of my journal for the marathon I wrote "I'm going to miss every terrible, wonderful, minute of this journey." Best. Day. Ever.

And so, it begins again. I am going to run the NYC marathon on November 7th for the second time. I'll be doing it for a good cause this year (bust out your wallets, people). Some great friends will be running it with me. I'm already mentally posing for our medal photos and planning our post-marathon jaunts to Joe Allens and Mamas. I wouldn't miss it. And yet --- while the first paragraph of this post seems fabulous, I think I forgot the 180+ days of training it took to get me there. I forgot the early mornings and the Texas heat. I forgot that it was a lot of sweat, doubt, discipline and 4:40 alarm beeps. I must be crazy to do this all again. Crazy.