Thursday evening: My sister and father fly from Newark to Orlando after text message regarding whether or not her flight will get in early and if it’s possible to go to Ruby Tuesday’s in Newark’s Terminal A, my sister will board the plane.
9:30am: I will call my sister repeatedly to make sure she got what she was supposed to at the expo, exclaiming “How many wristbands did you get?” and requesting photos of the merchandise. This request will be denied.
9:45-4:30: I will look plaintively from clock to clock wondering if it’s 5:00pm yet. I will play the Disney playlist on my iPhone and occasionally chime in to sing about how I can go the distance. When I’m feeling motivated, I will pretend to work and have instant message conversations with my colleagues about articles we find funny in the Onion.
4:30pm: Now I am hiding in the bathroom with my away message on my computer so no one will come find me to do something that will make me stay past 5:00pm.
5:00pm: I slip out through the staircase so no one sees me leave, as I rush out I tell the guard to have a good weekend ’cause, you know, I’m not rude.
5:30pm: I settle down to have dinner in my apartment, spaghetti and squash, because so help me god I’m not eating junk food at the airport and paying through the nose for it. Plus, unlike my family who is flying JetBlue I don’t get any free snacks like those delicious caramel popcorner chips or free television. I’m on the pioneer version of a plane.
6:00pm: Frantically search for things I forgot to pack and chastise myself for forgetting to shave.
6:30pm: ride the metro to the airport. It claims it’s only 15 minutes, but I don’t trust them; planning out alternative strategy to run there, good thing I’ve got my sneakers.
6:45pm: Arrive at the airport. Okay, so they were right.
7:00pm: Wait on security line and ponder whether or not the new metal detectors really will give me a tumor.
7:30pm to 9:00pm: Wander aimlessly around the airport and have scathing interior monologue about how I should’ve come later and that I can’t eat anything because I ate before I left.
9:00pm: Using all my mental faculties, will the plane to leave on time. [My family will be at the Very Merry Christmas Party whilst I am having a distinctly un-merry time.]
12:45am: Standing in the Orlando airport, the Magical Express looses some of its magic when you’ve been waiting, like, 30 minutes for it and there’s no one else there and you’ve really got to go to the bathroom but you don’t want to miss the bus.
1:30am: Arrive at the Beach Club with 21 hours to spare before the Wine and Dine.
7:00am: Sister calls about getting her breakfast for when she comes back to the hotel from the 5k.
7:15am: Sister calls to complain she is cold. Tough–she didn’t wan to pack a trash bag like I told her.
7:30am: Sister calls asking me to read the menu at the Boardwalk Bakery to her so she can decide what she wants for breakfast.
7:33am: Turn off cell phone.
10:30am: Again explain to sister what I mean by “taking it easy” and “not eating heavy,” precluding me from eating at Le Cellier Steakhouse for lunch, but we end up going to MGM.
10:45am: Sister calls me a drag and again says how much she dislikes me ever since I started running.
12:00pm: 10 hours and counting to Wine & Dine, Beaches and Cream for lunch. Father overjoyed by orange creamsicle ice cream, trip overwhelming success until he gets it and says, “Eh, it’s okay.”
1:00pm-6:00pm: Hang out by pool alone with phone turned off. Blissful, peaceful, awesome.
6:00pm: Back to the room to prepare. Put on costume, arrange hair. Look myself in the mirror and say: “Don’t Stop Believin’. You can go the distance. Swift as a raging river.” Head to the bus totally psyched and ready to do this thing.
8:00pm-9:00pm: Aimlessly and awkwardly wander around staging area, interior monologue wondering why runDisney YouTube guy doesn’t want to interview me and telling myself I never liked him anyway.
9:00pm: Go stand in my corral because it feels less awkward than wandering. Totally congratulate myself on moving up one from Disneyland. Tell myself how awesome I am.
9:45pm: Get all psyched again! Antsy dance and faux stretching– I don’t know what I’m doing but I saw Deena Kastor do it on Spirit of the Marathon when she won Chicago so it’s gotta work, right?
10:15pm: I’M MOVING!
Awesome running ensues and I totally break all personal records.
1:00am: Race is done, it’s time to party! I get my chocolate cake from Terra booth and eat it on my slow moving journey through time.
1:03am: Yell out, “THANK THE PHOENICIANS!” ’cause this ride is just that awesome.
1:15am: stand in front of the geodesic sphere and just think about my awesomeness.
2:00am: Head back to the hotel. I think it’s entirely possible I’ll pass out.
2:15am: Get back to room and debate the pros and cons of showering.
2:30am: Go to sleep… with medal on.