Confession: I am petrified about running Broad Street this weekend.
My 8-miler really did go well, with no post-run fallout. And thanks to Steph at The Bright Side, I have some buddies to run with on Sunday. And it's not like I haven't done this before.
But I'm still so nervous that I'm going to injure myself. No matter how many times I tell myself that I'm going to be conservative, and stretch my hips regularly, and walk the second I feel like I need to -- I'm worried that I'm going to be my normal stupid self, and "push through" because I feel like I "should." And end up unable to walk down the stairs for weeks.
I'm being silly. At least, I think I am.
I skipped P90X plyo last night, reasoning that (1) jumping up and down repeatedly is not going to help my let's-not-injure-my-knee goal, and (2) Sunday's race will be more than enough cardio to make up for it. I was going to hop on the Hamster Wheel of Death (aka elliptical) with my new Fitness magazine instead, but that didn't happen.
Sigh. So nervous. So silly of me. I figure that once I pick up my packet, I'll be stuck -- since I can't really wear the shirt without running the race, right? And I can't bring in my bib to add to my display here at work either, right?
Yeah. I'd be a real poseur then.