Saturday night, everyone in the hotel is staying up late, kids are running up and down the hall, it's 3am, and Mal has barked loudly every 30-60 minutes. I was sure my marathon was toast.

We talked about my race plan, how I shouldn't have PR'ed my shakeout run, the importance of writing things down (or, I suppose, these days anyway, typing them out).

The rain isn't even raining. It's a permeating mist that just exists everywhere simultaneously in the predawn dark. Luckily we're already back inside with coffee.