One week out.

Kicked off my Blue Ridge Marathon training this morning. One week out from the race.

It went shockingly unwell.

I blame Fall Risk. She jumped up and did a last-second Spartan last weekend. Leading me to believe that I, too, can still do stupid shit like rhat, too.

I also blame GJB. For suggesting I register for the marathon. Five days ago. Less than two weeks out from the race.

And I blame Rogue. Who just sat there. And let it happen.

I also blame Beautiful Beastie. Who wasn’t directly involved in any of it. But it just feels right to blame her. Her vibes impacted all of this, I’m certain.

But what’s done is done.

I’m Blue Ridge Marathon official. So may as well do some training for it.

Headed out from Starr Hill. At a moderately not respectable pace.

1.3 miles in: sharp pain in my lower back and left hip. Cool.

No, I’m sure that’s fine. Just need to warm up the ole body.

2 miles in: right hip flexor starting to whine a bit.

Also fine. I whine. It’s my coping mechanism. Can’t fault my actual body for using the same method.

3 miles in: ok, there’s my right Achilles. A little surprised he took this long to join the party.

I’m not entirely sure how long it took me to reach Roanoke Mountain. The bottom of Roanoke Mountain, mind you. Because I definitely didn’t head on up to the top of it. Been up there enough times. No need to see it again before next weekend. But it was long enough for me to recognize that the 18 miles I had envisioned were not the best plan I’ve ever had.

Headed on back over to Mill Mountain. Where my back and left hip were finally lulled into silence. Or punished. Whichever.

But right hip flexor is being very clear that if I try to force her up another mountain. Or hill. Or…speed bump. That she will absolutely separate the entire way from the rest of my body. And she’s gonna take right leg with her.

That’s the point at which some dude started yelling at me “Let’s go! Only 20 more miles to go!!”

And…I mean, compliance. And susceptibility to the power of suggestion. My body knows me. And knows that the thought passed through my brain that maybe I could head on over to Peakwood…

And my body almost panicked. Until it remembered that I absolutely cannot find Peakwood from Mill Mountain on my own.

So let’s go ahead and make sure there are plenty of volunteers to guide me along the way next weekend.

I need to at least make it up to Peakwood. I’ve been promised snacks. And a nice spot to nap. And a ride back home afterward.

Assuming my body lets me show up for the race at all.