Running through my head

I've just returned from my pasta party dinner in which 600 Team in Training participants from the US and Canada got together, loaded up on carbs, and got uber-excited about tomorrow. They showed us a video of people crossing the finish line of previous marathons and (I am a HUGE cheese-ball for admitting this) I got misty eyed. It finally sank in that I am going to be one of those people tomorrow. I will have completed an endurance event and emerged on the other side of that finish line. It is an awesome thought in the most literal sense of the word.
More inspiring and breathtaking than that were the stories of survivors, children and friends of survivors, and people who lost their battles with blood cancers. A woman spoke to us about her experiences fifteen years ago as she battled Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. Losing her hair was the least of her concerns, she told us, her chemotherapy was so aggressive that she lost her fingernails, toenails, and her intestinal linings were blistering and peeling. This is gut-wrenching at any time (especially when that gut is newly filled with pasta and marinara sauce), but she drove home her story by telling us of a woman with her same name, diagnosed with the same disease only three weeks before her, who did not win her battle.
The only word I can call to mind is "humbling." These people are amazing. They have given me something to call to mind to overrun my self pity when I am on that hill at mile 20, or when I am freezing my butt off at five tomorrow morning, waiting for my start time.
I love you guys very much. My chip is on my shoes, my number is pinned to my singlet, and I am as ready as I am ever going to be. I will be thinking of you tomorrow. I will definately let you know how it goes.

Until then, stay healthy.
Jen