So I may have mentioned a few (or 20 or 30) times that I’m running the ING New York City Marathon this Sunday. In a mere 48 hours, I’ll be on my way to the airport, and yesterday I began to freak the frack out. Not because of the race – I’ve done the work for that; all I need to do now is show up at the starting line – but because of what I need to do at home before I leave. I’ve begun making lists and checking items off.
Here’s just part of my list:
- Buy Cliff Shots and Cliff bars for race day – check
- Buy inexpensive sweats to wear to the start and discard as I run – check
- Pick out and wash race-day clothes – check
- Pick playlists for the race and sync my iPod shuffle – check
- Select knitting projects for the trip - nope
- Buy a few new tops to wear on the trip - nope
- Leave detailed instructions of what needs to happen each day for B – nope
- Leave signed waiver and birthday present for Lily to take to a birthday party – nope
- Buy groceries for while I’m gone – nope
- Set out Lily’s ballet clothes so she and B can find them Saturday morning - nope
- Wash, fold and put away laundry so the family won’t go naked while I’m gone – nope
- Clean the house so it’s not extra disgusting when I get home – nope
Just looking at this list and the undone items makes my stomach hurt. B keeps reassuring me that he does in fact know where the grocery store and washing machine are, but I feel this ridiculous sense of obligation to make sure everything is as taken care of as possible before I leave.
For the next two days, I’ll be frantically cleaning, folding and shopping. Or I might just become so paralyzed by it all that I do nothing but sit on the sofa and stare into space. It could go either way.