In just about six weeks, I will run the New York City Marathon... six weeks until I experience a race that I have wanted to do since I started running marathons. It's a landmark race. Iconic. Something so much bigger than just me.

I look at this picture, and my stomach fills with butterflies. The bridge. The people. The start of a journey I never thought I'd take through New York City.

It will be my first real time there... and what a way to do it. Intimately. Through her streets, with her people there cheering me on through each mile.

Do I have fears going in? Absolutely. The late start time has me wondering how I will fare through the middle part of the day, as opposed to my usual morning marathons. Will my mind be clear after 5 hours of waiting, or will I work myself into a frenzy of doubt and anxiety? Will my body be able to push out 26.2 after being awake that long? Will the weather cooperate?

And yet... at the end of the day, it will be the highlight of the second half of my year. Bookending my racing year on either end of the country has a symbolism to me that feels right. Capturing the crap of the rest of the year in the middle, and allowing the marathon to pull my pain and disappointment out of me... and leave it there with my sweat, tears and blood.

Oh yes. There WILL be blood. Blood pumping through my veins. Carrying my strength and endurance with me through the city like a weapon against the world. Carrying my pride with me to remind me that I earned this race. Carrying the blood of my family, my people with me, reminding me that I am not alone and I have them pushing me through the pain yet to come.

I'm ready for this. I'm excited to experience this. I can't believe it's already here. 3 more weeks of actual training, and then it's time to taper down to the race. Wow.