I have wrapped my feet in moleskin and Vaseline and carefully put on just the right foot covering. It would be a lot more exciting if I was about to take the stage and dance with the Baryshnikov, but instead, I’ll be standing in a parking lot for several hours, then literally in a corral, then walking my fastest (and everyone else’s slowest) for four hours, hoping desperately to make it to the finish line while there still is a finish line at the PF Chang’s Rock n Roll Marathon in downtown Phoenix/Tempe.

Not very sexy.

It gets worse. I’ve started and by the time I’m done, I will have crammed the following into my sports bra (thank goodness for big boobs):

my iPhone; two more pieces of moleskin; a baggie of Advil (I won’t say how much, too much, it’s crossed the line into “performance enhancing drug,” I fear — and so do my kidneys); four packages of Gu, the “Chocolate Outrage” flavor; some money; my Shuffle; a house key; lip balm.

I’m wearing my lucky socks (unfortunately, they are dirty) and my favorite pants, which I did wash. A tee shirt since it’s supposed to approach 80 today (just my luck) and an old turtleneck I can discard if I feel too encumbered. Unlike one of my “teammates”, I did not shower, do my hair and put on makeup, but I did put on some coverup over my sunblock, and I’m wearing a necklace Annabelle made me last night.

I think I’m going to throw up. Wishful thinking.

There’s been a lot of talk about the next marathon — and this one hasn’t even started. I’ve made it clear this is my last. Though yesterday afternoon I promised Sophie that when she’s ready for one, I’ll be by her side.