Here goes..

..well, something. Quite a lot, really. Definitely not nothing.

Deep breaths.

Tomorrow is the day - the one so big and scary that I never managed to bring myself to even put it on my race schedule, though I've been registered for months. Almost my whole season has been structured around it, yet I've only really told a handful of people that it was happening.

Mrph..

Preparations have not been ideal, though I heard a quote years ago that I quite like: "Training to run 100 miles is like training to be hit by a truck." It's going to hurt, it's going to do a lot of damage, and it's going to a fair bit of recovery afterward.

Just miles and miles of this.

To make matters slightly more complicated, I don't actually have a dedicated crew or pacers. Of course Tanker will be his amazing self, helping me out when I pass by the aid station at which he'll be working...but he'll also be his amazing self for other people on course, and not chasing me to other aid stations. While the new format (from a single out-and-back to 3 laps consisting of one short and one long out-and-back per lap) means I'll see him and other runners much more consistently through the race, I do anticipate having long stretches where it'll just be me and my doubts, fears, and sore legs staggering along through the darkness.

I've only ever run through one sunset in a race before, and one sunrise...but never in the same race.

I have a couple of things working to my advantage:

1) It's on rail trail. Nothing technical, so less chance (NB: definitely NOT zero chance) I'll trip and faceplant, or turn an ankle due to a misstep. Much easier to just walk it in, too.

Though it won't be as pretty as this.

2) I have actually tapered for this. Like, I've only run 4 out of the last 11 days and those total less than 30km. As a result, some of the stuff that's wrong with me feels a little less-messed-up, though I'm still dealing with some ankle and hamstring tendinitis issues.

Some of my taper activities may not have been well-planned to advance healing.

3) I'm accustomed to - and actually quite enjoy - doing difficult things, regardless of whether or not I'm terribly good at them (usually not). The challenge of a hundred miles is what's really alluring about the whole thing, and what I may find out about life and myself along the way...even if the process is uncomfortable and a bit scary.

Like swimming through very cold water and strong currents to clamber around on slippery rocks at the base of a waterfall.

3) I am a stubborn goat, who often refuses to give up even when there is really clear evidence that doing so would be the more intelligent course of action. As long as there's nothing seriously broken, I'm gonna at least walk this damn thing in.

The sun will eventually come up, and so will the finish line.

There is, of course, no way to tell what may happen along the way. Will I start to hallucinate and wander off into the woods? Will the chronic sleep deprivation send me for a trail nap that sabotages my chances of making the 30-hour cut-off? Will my hamstring, my ankle, or my stomach go so far south that I'm unable to continue? Or will my resolve simply falter when faced with the daunting number of miles to go?

It's easy to be positive in sunshine - the dark hours are when doubts creep in.

No matter what happens, I'm grateful for the chance to find out what I'm capable of, for the excellent weather we're predicted to have (22-23c daytime highs, 11-14c nighttime lows, with low humidity and no precipitation? YES PLEASE), and most of all for the support of my incredible husband Tanker. He's the one with the constant rock-solid faith that I can accomplish my absurd goals, and is always ready to do anything it takes to help me along the way.

Like squeezing through cracks in billion-year-old rock to descend into a cave still full of ice in August.

If I were to be really honest, if I manage to snag me one of those fancy buckles I should probably hand it right over to him, as there's no way I'd have made the start line - let alone the finish - without him.

..but I may be selfish and keep it just for me, if I make it.

For better or for worse - see you on the other side of all this madness!