The day before

The day before a big race is always filled with butterflies.
I didn't think I'd get this way. A half marathon just might be my favorite race. Really, the pressure is off. I want a good time, something below an 8:30-per-mile pace, maybe even faster. But it's 13.1 miles. No one really asks what my time was when I tell them I finished one, save for my hardcore running buddies.
The time doesn't define the race.
Yet I've thought about it a lot today. I think that's part of the preparation. I know it's going to be tough and that eventually I'll be in a lot of pain. I also know I'm excited about it. Half marathons are fun.
Running is still new to me. It's only been three years. I rarely feel this way before a mountain, even one that's considered dangerous by some. That's so old hat.
A part of me, I guess, still wonders if I can do it. I always love to doubt myself.
I'll be up at 3:45 a.m. tomorrow to prove myself wrong.