The windup

I'd say I was already awake when the alarm went off at 4 am, except that I don't remember anything before hearing the beeps. But there was no need to hit the snooze--my heart was racing, and my mind was going at full speed.

I'd laid out all my clothes and accessories in the bathroom so I wouldn't wake Deanna, who was sleeping in the other bed in the guest room. But once I'd gotten dressed, I had a wardrobe-panic, and when I went back in to the room to get different shorts, Deanna was already awake.

So, of course, she had to be consulted on the big crisis. I went with my original shorts. Whew. See how hard this marathon running is, y'all? Twenty-six miles, schmenty-six miles. The real question: what should I wear?

My father was waiting for me downstairs, and after grabbing a banana and a PB&J sandwhich (and a half), I was ready to go. Deanna decided to drive to the start with us, and she took some great photos.

The car was reporting the temperature at 73 degrees, which I didn't like at all. It dropped to 71 by the time we got to the start. Still plenty warm. I was wearing a long sleeve shirt that I'd hoped I'd need in the predawn start, but it was muggy and warm when I hopped out of the car, so I left it in the back seat to change into after the race.

It was 5 am on the dot, and I was still carrying two halves of the sandwhich. David and I had arranged to meet at the first aid tent at 5:30. You can tell that was my brilliant idea, because of course, there WAS NO first aid tent at the start. I still swear I remember reading that in the brochure.

For the past three days, I'd been driving my family crazy with my obsessive eating habits. ("Hey, Naomi, I bought some good cheese. You want some?" "No! Not until after the marathon!"/ "Want a glass of wine with dinner?" "Sunday! Not until Sunday.") And I'd been drowning myself in gatorade and water like it was my last chance to drink EVER.

So even though I didn't drink anything that morning, (I was trying to avoid having to stop during the race) I still made two trips to the portapotties before 5:30.

I walked back to the water and gatorade tables, hoping to spot David or Rachel. David had told me that he'd be wearing a sleeveless yellow shirt (surprisingly unhelpful when there are hundreds of AIDS marathoners in yellow singlets) and that Rachel would be wearing a pink top.

After a couple false alarms, I finally spotted David, who gave me a big, excited hug, and immediately took a picture for the blogs.

Can you believe I'm still writing, and the race hasn't started yet? Well, the good news is that a lot of the race is a blur (because I was hot and tired, not because I was going so fast) so I won't manage to be quite this detailed later.

Rachel didn't mosey into the corral until moments before the race began (something about spending time with her incredibly supportive, very cool, husband. Yeah, I don't get it either...) but David spotted her right away (and took a picture of the three of us.)

Finally (finally!) the flare guns went off, and the race began. It took about three minutes to cross the start line, and only about 10 seconds for me to remember to start my watch.