A good metaphor to use during our current 3-day rain storm of gloom and fog.
Maureen and I just spent an hour planning her "cheering route" for the marathon. She (and Kevin) will be able to see me at 6 places along the way, which is amazing! Even though I am still scared out of my gourd about this race, I am so excited to have spectators along the way that my fear is (temporarily and superficially) smothered by happiness.
I am organizing and planning the events of the race weekend now because 1) I know I will be too psycho, panic-driven freak next week to hold a clear thought in my mind, and 2) it will (hopefully) help ease some of my pre-race jitters. So, while I have zero control over my current injury situation, I can at least have control over the color headband I will be wearing for my trip to the hospital after the race.
Disclaimer: If you haven't caught on by now, I am using humor as a defense mechanism. I, in no way, will let myself get to the point of actually needing to go to the hospital. I use all of my "cross the finish line on a stretcher" jokes as a way of bringing humor to a situation that, quite frankly, totally sucks ass.
