Waiting.

There came a point late in my pregnancy with Kyle, that I was bored.

We had bought and moved into a house in May. In early June, I had multiple baby showers where I got more than any one baby would need. By mid-June, we had the nursery ready to go, I had washed every last onesie and burp cloth, and I had written and mailed every last thank-you note.

All we needed was the baby part.

That's how getting ready for a marathon feels. (And believe me, I hate comparing running a race to giving birth to a person, but as I think about this, that's the only event that compares.)

The big event is Dec. 4, so next Sunday.

I'm not going to get any faster or stronger between now and then. I'm just running my miles and waiting for the race.

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So I mentioned last week about my worries for the taper. It all came to a head on Saturday.

I only ran 10 miles Saturday morning. And I had a pretty good rest of the day -- got my hair cut, we bought a new Christmas tree, went to eat, the Aggies killed Kansas, my house was clean, the laundry was done...no complaints at all.

But all day long, no matter if I was laughing at something one of the kids or Russ said, or relaxing with a book in the recliner, I felt like I was literally five seconds away from bursting into tears.

Taper + PMS = very bad things.

I weathered it by simply staying in that recliner for most of the evening. I woke up Sunday feeling like myself again.

This marathon cannot get here soon enough. If I've learned anything through this taper, it's how much I NEED to run.