Last week I:
• stepped into the shower and caught myself right before I skidded on a swath of soap.
• halted a full-on step on the stairs after my foot felt a poke from a toy from Burger King, preventing a tumble.
• caught my son inches from my groin after he leaped off the couch to "get me." He almost got me, all right.
I was mere moments from suffering some kind of injury that could have royally screwed my chances of running the marathon as I head into my last huge week of training.
The last huge week is a celebration. After I run 20 Saturday, I go into tapering. That means the hard training is over, and it's smooth sailing from there on out.
The marathon itself isn't really the hard part. It's surviving the training that prepares you for it. I've already said this, but the training basically ensures you'll be sick several times and that you've got a good chance of getting hurt.
I know five others preparing for a marathon with me this winter. Three of them got injured. Two of them to the point where they probably won't be able to do the race.
I've had my own issues with an old ACL injury I suffered in a mountain climbing accident 10 years ago. The heavy training has inflamed it. But ice and ibuprofen seems to be controlling it. Tapering will help with the rest.
Surviving all this, of course, makes you paranoid that something, surely, will fuck it up. As I am feeling great again - really great, after a month of illnesses and the sore knee - and the training winds down, that's where I am.
My house, of course, is a pitfall thanks to the kids. Yep. Pitfall. I won't be surprised if one morning I have to leap across the living room via the ceiling fan to get to the kitchen (and see crocs underneath and hear some encouraging music and get a shiny gold bar when I do make it).
I'll be celebrating Saturday.
If I don't trip over something plastic on the way in the door.