Training is Over. Marathon Tomorrow

The Beginners Marathon Training Plan, as offered by RunnersWorld.com, an infallible source of running goodness, requires the runner to run 347 miles from Day 1 to Day Five Billion. I ran almost all of them, excluding a very early recovery week, which I had to eliminate because of time constraints, and two runs which were dropped during the taper, because of scheduling mishaps. According to my running log, I ran just over 329 miles in the past fifteen-odd weeks.

Of course, the training really began back in January, when I bought a new pair of shoes and began running two-a-days on Wildcat Canyon Road until I realized short socks contibuted directly to profuse heel bleeding. Once that healed, I met Don, Julie, Katra, and Emily for an absolutely draining 4.5 mile run on the Ohlone. I think, if I remember correctly, I was hungover. I think also, now that I reflect back on that time, that I owe Don a couple of more breakfasts at Fat Apples. Anyway, as he has already mentioned, running through Spring really gave me a foundation for this training that was only partially negated by the extreme situations of the World Cup...

Anyway, as my postings go, this one isn't that much different, at least on a meta-level. I'm lying in bed, I just woke up, and my legs are...ok. They aren't that tired actually. I've found that the last few taper runs have really all been about keeping and finding my pace. Since my feet have been somewhat rejuvenated through rest, they just want to fly ahead of me. My job is to slow them down. There is a dangerous giddiness to that feeling, which is redoubled by its long absence through sheer exhaustion. I know tomorrow I won't feel this good. I know tomorrow I will probably cry. But I like to pretend that the fresh legs will keep me going. Which brings me to my three levels of goals, which are only loosely oriented around time:

Great Result: Finish without walking (4:15)
Totally Cool and I'm Happy With it Result: Walk some, but keep a mostly even pace. (4:30)
There is No Bad Result. I'm Here to Finish if I Walk the Whole Thing: (4:45-5:00)

Anyway, I went to the expo on Thursday to get my gear. I love marathon expos. They really try and foster a sense of community in the participants by asking all of us to blow equally huge wads of money on equally flimsy clothing. ("But it wicks! It wicks the sweat away!", you say.) Did that sound sarcastic? It was sincere. I think I identify through brand culture more now as a runner than when I was in junior high trying to get my mom to buy me Guess jeans. Which never worked.
Unfortunately, they ran out of Früh Kölsch jerseys, so I won't be receiving my free mini-keg of beer at the finish. That's okay though, I have much bigger plans than that, and 5 litres of beer won't even come close to cutting it.
It was actually not that easy to find the expo. The Cologne civic center is slightly larger than most German towns, so we ended up walking most of the way back home just to get around three of the buildings. Once inside though, we found everything pretty easily, especially after Tessa redirected me away from the Smart Car raffle and towards the things I actually needed to pick up. Like my number. (Speaking of which, I will go into detail later about all of the things included in the goodie bag. But Tessa was obviously most pleased with the single-serving box of Wheatabix. This somehow beat out a Sendung mit der Maus rainslicker. I'm only writing this because Tessa inadvertently called them "Wheatabricks", which is a far more apt name for the product than I could ever personally conjure up.)
Anyway, we got home and I've been doing my best not to leave the apartment since. I've labelled the six flights of stairs a health risk, and have decided to stay home and eat healthy food (there are much needed carbs and magnesium in banoffi pie.), while visualizing everything. I have the map downstairs in the living rom, and am trying to figure out the places most likely to cause the most pain. I also have printed out pace bands for my wrists that tell me my timed splits in that indecipherable mess of measurement, the kilometer.
I'll post my race number here later, so you can follow along or check up on my results if I'm too drunk or too dead to post by Monday. I think thats it for now.
Enjoy yourselves bitches. It's a celebration.