Passing Through the Running Event Horizon

I've been watching a lot of science stuff lately on Netflix. I've become enthralled with black holes. The idea of mass so concentrated its gravity can consume anything that gets close to it, and crush it into something infinitesimally small. Not just matter, but light. Science isn't really sure what is in the centre of a black hole. It can't be observed. Light can't escape its gravity. Nom nom nom, hmmmmm light.

I've watched a few documentaries where they explain what they believe would happen if you got sucked into a black hole. Of the many fascinating facts that swirl around black holes is the concept of the event horizon. That point where there is no turning back. This is the point at which nothing can escape. Prior to this point things can theoretically turn around and escape. But once you reach this point it's game over. You're going to experience spaghettification and just end up squished with all that other mass. And this is where even scientists will engage in speculation and fantasy. Is there another universe in there? A worm hole to another dimension? Or just some unbelievable amount of mass squished into something the size of a pinhead.

I think when it comes to running my first marathon I've passed the event horizon. That period in my training where there is no turning back. I'm in free fall. No longer able to escape. Hurling toward a great unknown. This body has never been beyond 32k. And it's frightening. Last post I was talking about walking a tightrope between excitement and fear. Well I've fallen off and am clearly headed toward fear. Oddly afraid I can't stop, even though I started this process. I ran toward this voluntarily. Not just voluntarily, but with enthusiasm. Yet lately when someone or something reminds me it's only x days away I feel the anxiety hit. It's not overwhelming. But it is unpleasant. And it's not needed and it must be addressed. If I have passed the event horizon I want to be excited. I want to celebrate the final moments up until the gun goes off at the start line. I want to enjoy this. That's one of the reasons I write this blog. Focus, focus, focus. Concentrate.

A fair amount of relief came at our clinic talk tonight. The speaker was Stacy Chestnut. She was an incredible inspiration. She has run over 40 marathons. She is a Boston qualifier and a bona fide Ironman competitor. But it wasn't her impressive running resume. It was her spirit. Her passion. And she hit all the right notes with perfection. She impressed upon me the importance of just finishing. Being proud of just finishing. No one is going to care or remember your time. They are going to remember you ran a marathon. Genius in its simplicity. She talked about staying positive. And then she reiterated staying positive. Suffice to say her talk had a very positive effect.

I left the clinic calm. Relaxed. Grounded. Ready to be excited again. Confident. Looking forward to the final journey to the start line. It would be futile to try and stop light from passing the event horizon, and would be futile to stop me from making it to the start line at PEI.