The taste of sweat in the shower.

So it might be slightly inappropriate or perhaps a bit on the unusual side, but I love the taste of salt water running down my face the minute I immerse myself in our shower following a long run. That's the taste of a champion, my friends.

September 15th is the big race day. After finishing five half-marathons over the last three Summers, I finally heeded my sister's subtle suggestion to just go for a full marathon. Every time she would tell me that I'm already half way there, I would say, "Yeah, but I enjoy 13 miles. I would defiantly not enjoy 26."

Until this year.

I can do hard things (well, that's what I tell myself). I am only 25, and I'd like to think that I can run 26.2 miles. I recently had a conversation with another person regarding Gatorade. This person was non-factually (is that a word?) trying to convince me that drinking Gatorade while exercising will make it impossible to lose weight. While I have not yet researched their statements (and let's be honest, I probably won't), I thought it was interesting that they assumed I was out running to lose weight. My motives for running are much less shallow than reasons just to loose a few inches around my dog-chew-toy looking stomach.

On Friday night after dousing myself with my large deodorant-looking-stick of "Anti-Chafe" in various locations all over my body (some much too awkward to mention), I tied my shoes, grabbed two of my energy GU's and stuffed them in my sports bra, and asked Lillie where the heck she put the "hair-pod" (ipod). After a failed attempt at locating it, I decided to just leave. It was 6:15PM, 87 degrees, and pleasantly overcast.

Long story short, I was lost in my thoughts about how much it would cost to drive vs. fly to Disneyland, what Ben Perry might be up to after all these years (means he still won't accept my friend requent on facebook), what I should make for dinner over the next month or so, and why the heck Tim Allen didn't write out Mark in Home Improvement. I also saw 2 dead snakes up in the foothills, and I swear I saw a real tarantula--even though Dustin does not believe me that I saw a 4 inch diameter hairy-legged spider, I promise it happened ("Harry.... don't... move."). I turned back on 6th Street just after 9:40PM and was greeted by Dustin at 9:45. He informed me that he thought I was taking too long, and apparently called the police to go looking for me. Ummm..... yeah.

The best part of Friday night was getting in the shower, tasting the salt, stretching while the conditioner sat in my hair (hoping I didn't get any "surprise" visits from my husband...), and fully realizing that I just ran 19 miles. This is really happening. My night ended by drinking large mason jar's full of Cool Blue Gatorade (we have the powder mix) and playing scrabble, in which I got away with the word 'FANDUE'. Dustin still won.

Has the last 3 months been easy? Not unless you think running 30+ miles a week in scorching heat mixed with blisters and chaffing sounds easy.
BUT.
I am doing it. And I am excited to cross that freaking finish line in 32 days.