The Hardest Battle is with Ourselves.
Odd this. I was expecting the final call. And it came today.
I had planned this road race for a while now. And others - three and by their own choices - were joining me. It had been on my bucket list for a while.
I had some issues with my right foot. A deep burning in the right sole. But I recalled I had a similar issue in my running days. My podiatrist said it was a deep callous, even from childhood, and I thought of my days running shoeless on Sherkin Island in West Cork. Us kids would take off our shoes at the beginning of the summer and not put them back on until safely re-ensconced in the city once more.
It felt amazingly good to just be back in the racing fraternity (I use the term extremely loosely, racing being relative for an elder 'n all that!), going to my running store, discussing socks and sweats and being measured and walk-tested for new trainers, etc. I hadn't expected that renewed vigour and joy. And amidst the train-walking I found myself jogging a little from time to time. A huge surprise. Added to that was the honking and cheering from the passing village cars as I road-trained. Seriously.
And I can't say I was surprised that the co-racers were dropping out. Maybe I'm a pessimist at heart. One had completely underestimated what 10 miles was. Another had a leg issue. But there were still 2 of us in it. And we trained together a bit but mostly alone due to domicile distance. But I always felt she was going to back away even though she assured me she was in it, guaranteed. So I got the call today a blah-blah-blah call.
Expected as I said. But nevertheless.
I am struggling mentally with doing the race completely alone. Other festivals are on which demand the previously committed supporters' attention.
So the battle is with myself. And it's scary.
Any input would be greatly appreciated.