You know you're tapering when...

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“The last long hurdle,”

I said on October 19^th after a 22 mile trek through Philadelphia in rain so intense I felt lost in it. 

“The last hard run,”

I marveled as the sun came up over UPenn after a slow 12 miler on October 22^nd.

“The last big one until the marathon,”

I screamed coming up a huge San Francisco hill to complete a sunny October (30^th) 10 miler with Alcatraz at my back.

“The last challenge,”

I thought as I crossed the finish line of the 8.4 mile “Loop” Race last Saturday in 66 minutes and exhaled.

“The last long run,”

I said as I rounded out a 4 mile loop this Monday. 

As I sit at my desk, deep into week 2 of my taper, 5 days out from the Marathon, eating animal crackers and wearing fuzzy slippers, I can’t help but wonder whether I’ve got 26.2 in me.  Am I the same woman that gutted out 22 miles in the rain?  Have I lost my edge?  Ever present is a thumb picking, toe tapping, heel clicking nervous energy without an outlet.  I am jumpy.  I am irritable. I am constantly looking at the carbohydrate I’m about to put in my mouth and thinking “too much, too little, the right kind?” I am jumpy and restless and perhaps too eager to plan post-marathon races.  I stare listlessly at my running journal, longing for stronger performances and discretionary miles. 

I keep thinking, “it’s not me, it’s the taper.” 

And with that, I feel strength in my core and inherent trust in the method.  I feel steady in my yoga practice and loose in my hamstrings.   I am alert first thing in the morning and soundly asleep at night.  I am sharp and explosive, both in my tapered workouts and in my daily life, and I am grateful.  There is no pain or tension in my muscles.  There is nothing of concern in my tendons.  My lower back is stretched and ready.  My toes love my new shoes.  I am healthy.  Even in the uncharted, terrifying waves of the Taper, I feel powerful and blessed.

From pain to progress, everything suddenly seems equal when dropped at the feet of the Marathon.  22 miles becomes relative; and 4 miles just as relevant.  With the faith that warms me on January mornings, cools me in July, eases my pain and pushes me farther, I will own this rest and I will use it on Sunday.