Tomorrow I'm running a marathon.
It feels like this moment has been coming forever. I've been anticipating this trip to Paris for nearly a year, plotting, planning, scheming and training. In the last few weeks I've not had much time to think about what all of this means, I've been too busy sorting out other parts of my life. Last week I was pretty chilled about the whole 'marathon thing', but nerves have gradually creept in. I flit constantly from excitement to fear and back again. I question what the hell I am doing, but a little smile stop ; creeps on to my face as I think about the challenges ahead. I'm over thinking every little ache, scared my legs will give up on me, even though they've never failed me yet. I'm understanding that marathons are as much psychological as they are physical. The miles play games with you before you've even run them. They taunt you, they make you question yourself. You ask whether you're good enough, have you trained enough (or too much), should you have stretched more, would a massage have made a difference. You're never sure if you rule the miles, or if they rule you. Running is putting one foot in front of another, a marathon is more than that.
My excitement for this challenge has moved to a strange sort of intrigue, as always I want to see what I can do. I don't doubt I can run a marathon, but I really want to know how it feels, to understand the unique highs and lows, the impact on my body and the effect on my mind. It's a weird place to be knowing you're going to inflict something hard and painful on yourself, but also knowing it could be the most freeing and uplifting moment of your life.
My Mum will be tweeting throughout tomorrow, so look out for the hashtag #RunBethanRun. You can also track me on the Schneider Electric Marathon de Paris App, my bib number is 58016.