The Last Lap
It’s almost over. I’ll be done in little bit more than a week. I still have a lot of work to do before the end, but the end is in sight. It’s the last lap, the final push to the end.
When I work out — which I rarely do — just the idea that I’m close to the end is usually enough to inspire me to dig a bit deeper for some more drive, stamina, something. But these last laps, over the past few weeks have been psychologically and physically draining for me in a way that running or walking never could.
And the truth is, I made some bad choices. I didn’t balance well. I was wrong about some things. And my performance was off. A few late assignments, and one or two that just sucked. And now I have to pay the price.
What will the price be? A ridiculously harrowing last lap? An extra couple of laps?
At the very least, it looks like I’ll get screamed at by a couple of my coaches about my bad time in the last phase of the marathon. The locker-room scolding looms today: 4 p.m.
I don’t know what to expect. The last one liquified me. And it didn’t actually help much. I am afraid. I’m disappointed in myself. I’m sad. I feel guilty and I’m trying to forgive myself and move on. I need to look forward. I need to pull hard in this last lap. I need to envision the finish line. I don’t want to think about the footfalls of the past few laps.
My stomach hurts. I want to cry.
I don’t want to make things worse during the talk. And I have a big mouth that is capable of making things worse.
Accept and move on.
Listen, respond as little as possible.