This morning, my throat was a bit sore, my mind felt as if it were encased in gauze, and my body seemed stuck in sludge. After killing my final long run on Friday and a short but invigorating run last night, my immune system suddenly feels susceptible to sickness. This is why tapering is stupid.
Last week was my highest mileage total of this training cycle thanks to my delayed 20-miler. Despite a strong 36 miles logged, my final Parrott Prediction forecasts an uninspiring 5:09:17. However, my legs feel fresh and my head is in the right place (i.e., no, not up my rear end).
Regardless of my finish time this Saturday, I'm focusing on a strong finish. That's all I really want. When I pass my throng of spectators at the end, I want them to think, "Wow, he's looking good."
My eight-miler last week on the Buckeye Trail made me believe I can run strong. Flying though the woods and down the ravines and across the streams and up the hills, I made like Natty Bumppo on the hunt.
My feet were quick and my balance was true. Except for a near faceplant when my Altra Adams slipped their grip and my left arm caught me just in time but then felt numb from the jolt for a few minutes afterward, I was a champion trail runner.
Then, after a rest day, a fast barefoot run around the neighborhoods instilled further confidence that my legs would be ready come race day.
I have two more runs this week: a six-miler tomorrow and then an easy two-miler Thursday. If I can avoid the sickness, which the Enthusiast is suffering more from than I am today, everything will be fine. The first step is getting to the starting line healthy.