There are exactly 19 days to what I feel like will be my first marathon. Sure, I’ve actually done two before, but I didn’t train for either, trotted along with no regard for time and even stopped for beer at various points along the way. My best time was four hours and forty fun minutes. This time, it’s much, much different.

This time, I’ve terrifyingly publicized my goal of attempting to qualify for the Boston marathon, which means I have to actually run FAST instead of my usual Chatty Cathy pace. This time, I don’t get to stop for beer. My goal time of 3:45 seems as unlikely as climbing the Empire State Building and slaying King Kong with a plastic spork. However, I’ve tried my best to adhere to the training prescribed by John O’Neill of Colorado Running Company and I’ve almost put in more miles in the last few months that I have in the last two years. I’ve celebrated some successful runs around town and even earned some cheesy hardware as proof. However, to be honest, I’ve felt very lackluster during my training. My pace always seems slow and my body typically feels tired and sore most of the time. I credit some of this to my chronic dehydration and make at least small attempts to up my water intake and finally settled upon a vest that I can use during my long runs. (Previous attempts at both hand held and waist belt water bottles have only led to childish tantrums on the trail due to my perceived inconvenience and discomfort.)

At this point, I don’t feel like a talented runner. I feel like a 43-year-old woman trying to overcome the perils of age while simultaneously trying to juggle a career, volunteer obligations, two teenagers, two elementary aged kids (including my very difficult Reactive Attachment Disorder diagnosed step-son), five dogs, a husband, ex-spouses and a fish tank that’s still screaming to be cleaned. In other words, just like everyone else, I’m juggling LIFE. I find myself flopping out of bed at ungodly hours and sometimes staying up later than I’d like in order to slog out the prescribed miles for the day – sometimes I'm good, but other times I struggle to keep pace. I become grumpy around 8:30pm if it appears I won’t be in bed by nine. Honey Stinger gels have become my best friends and a tower of neatly folded running clothes permanently occupies my dresser since there seems little reason to put them away just to drag them out again – day, after day, after day. There are days my sweaty shoes haven’t even had time to dry before I’m pulling them on again and strapping the Tom Tom GPS to my wrist as I head out the door.

After so many months of training, I do feel that somehow I’ve lost a little of myself in the quest. I am still looking forward to the challenge and am tremendously grateful for all the support I’ve received and continue to receive from my family and friends – however, I believe the bottom line is that I am simply scared. I’ve lost that bit of confidence that says I know I can do this. I know to others this seems odd coming from a seemingly tough woman who has flown helicopters, jumped out of planes and even appeared on the American Gladiators re-make television show. Though I’m typically bold and assured in almost every other facet of my life, for this one goal, I am simply terrified.

I’m terrified of disappointing others, I’m terrified of hurting my body and most importantly, I’m terrified of simply not achieving my own goal. I am the antithesis of every speech I’ve given to my children over the years regarding effort, confidence and achievement. Believe and you can achieve. Hard work beats talent. Never give up on your dreams. All of those thoughts and more are hard to internalize when you have to apply it to your own life under pressure. To grab another popular phrase, I suppose I’m having a hard time seeing the forest for the trees.

I know that I need to see the athlete and I need to see myself crossing that finish line in time and then crumbling into a happy, crying mess. I know that I need to respect the work I’ve done and trust the directions of my coach. I know that I need that confidence back but the closer the race gets, the more my stomach tightens in a knot and the fear takes over. It is a struggle to push that aside and charge out the door each day.

Now, I certainly don’t write these things to gain your sympathy or pity. I write about them because I know that I’m not alone. Having been around runners for over twenty years, I know that the self-doubt is common. I know that frustration is common and I’m not the first or last person to question their ability and training leading up to a big race. I know that I have to take a deep breath, know who I am not only on, but most importantly OFF the running trail, and just get the work done. In hindsight, I believe that I’ll look back and appreciate the journey, respect the ambition and be forever grateful to those who pushed and inspired me along the way. Because after all, if you're currently struggling with this same situation - remember that nothing that’s worthwhile ever really comes easy.