I woke up this morning, and over a cup of coffee, reviewed my calendar for today. Mentally going over 'to-do's', whens and also deciding the best time to get my run in today. I glanced to Sunday, Christmas, to see my scheduled mileage for my long run, and it hit. Nine weeks. Nine weeks until the Cowtown Marathon. Nine weeks of training have already passed. Even as I type this, I get a chill down my spine and goosebumps on my arms...and that taste in my mouth.
I started getting that taste as I finished my long run two weeks ago when I hit the Big 10. I got it again this past weekend. 12.93 miles, knees aching and could barely walk, I had that taste. The taste of accomplishment. The taste of desire for your hard work to pay off. The taste of crossing that finish line. The taste of that damn medal in your hand. Heck, I will probably kiss, lick and try to take a bite of that damn medal. The Cowtown Medal is one of the most awesome race bling pieces I have drooled over as well.