Four days and counting to Eugene!

Thanks so much for all of the comments and support!  I'm really not a very sappy kind of a CilleyGirl, but this all means so much to me, words can not say.  Some of my friends I keep in touch with via Facebook -- many of whom I've known since junior high or high school -- are planning their flower orders now to have something on Sunday to drape over my corpse, directions to which I have conveniently provided them a link.  ;)  Actually, the conversation at first was, I've ordered your flowers but I won't be able to find your corpse.  Then another friend pointed out that they'd know exactly where I was thanks to my timing chip.  I love my friends.

Welcome new followers!  Oh, and Louise -- I still owe you a response to your e-mail :)  With this back/hip thing, my kitchen chairs (where my computer is) hurt my ass so I do most of my typing at work lately (with the comfy chair) and your e-mail is on the home computer and I keep forgetting I need to answer it, yadda yadda yadda, you get the picture. 

Well, the physicality of my back/hip thing continues, but the musculature of it all feels much better today -- less pain, less stiffness, less swelling.  That first step when I get up (onto the left leg, with the worse quad pain) isn't so bad at the moment.  I'm wondering if the big gatorade I had this morning had anything to do with that.  I have no idea how much potassium I get on a regular basis, but I know I don't add salt to foods; combined with the fact that I tend to drink a lot of water regularly (we're talking five or six 32 oz cups at least each day) I might tend to be overhydrated and under-electrolyted.  Or however you would say that.  For the remainder of the week, I plan to take in plenty of potassium and sodium in my beverages. 

On to other marathon notes.  I came across this quote on the site of my good bloggy friend the Radioactive Girl (who is SO not a heifer -- don't make me come over there and kick your skinny bum):

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; because there is not effort without error and shortcomings; but who does actually strive to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly. So that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.

It's by Theodore Roosevelt, with whom I share a birth date (give or take 112 years).  Together with the comments from her and other posters, I'm a lot less nervous about all the spectators on the course. 

It's also now my "screw you!" to those fasthole types who do get out there but then wonder why I even bother trying to race when I'm not much faster than a basic walking stride.  I don't think I've been giving myself enough credit for planning to do this marathon.  I know I'm slow.  I know I'm in shit shape.  I know I'm really not kidding when I say my goal is to finish before the course closes -- and that it may be a near thing.  I know I am not the better athlete in terms of physical ability, but can they stick through it as long as I have to?  Marathon training is supposed to train you to get through the physical and mental aspects of being out there -- for them, that's only about three hours.  Three hours?  Piece of cake! 

In case you can't tell, I've been somewhat bothered by a few things lately.  I don't want to hurt any feelings so I won't get into it.  I can say that I have some really, truly great friends.

Cheers,
the CilleyGirl