All of my information has been entered. The page has loaded, and an order summary reveals my intended commitment. All I need to do is fork over my credit card information, tell myself that dropping $100 on another race is for the good of the cause, and hit "submit".
It's a scary thing, this race registration.
You see, about a month ago, Megan mentioned to me that all of the cool kids were going to meet up in Seattle in June to run the Rock 'N Roll 1/2 Marathon there, and that I should join in the fun.
Normally, I'd jump at the chance to run 13.1. Normally, I wouldn't think twice about the money or the time or the effort. Normally, I would've registered exactly two minutes after finding out about a race.
But normally, I wouldn't be a mere five months post-partum with an infant in tow on the cross-country flight. Normally, I wouldn't be working my way back from what will probably be a nearly 0-mile per week base. Normally, I wouldn't be signing up for a race with a pocketful of nerves.
So I hope you see my cause for hesitation, the reason why that registration page is still sitting open just behind the window that I write this post in. It's lurking, quietly, waiting for me to make a move, to commit myself to a post-baby race like I've said I would.
It's not about the possibility of not running a PR. I'm not even considering that.
It's about me committing to an unknown world, a world that I've never even dipped a toe in, a world that will somehow smash together dirty diapers and dirty running shorts, 5 a.m. feedings and 5 a.m. runs, jars of baby food and packets of energy gel.
That, my friends, is what makes me frantic. It's registering for a half marathon knowing that I'll be running another race at that same time: the race of raising an actual human being.
Holy Crap.
So at the risk of upsetting every Type-A fiber in body in order to try and balance two parts of my life that I already love very much, I think I'm going to go hit "submit".