The night before (Antarctica Marathon Part VI)

4:00PM: Oh, shit.

The Marathon Tour team has returned from King George Island after mapping out tomorrow’s race course. And now, Thom wants everyone in the dining room for pre-marathon prep. We spent all day thinking about the upcoming race, drinking water, and carb loading. (Thanks to the kitchen crew, we had a pasta buffet for lunch, and we’d have a lasagna buffet for dinner.) It’s the moment of truth.

5:15PM: Oh, fuck.

Before coming out here, I was told to add an hour to an hour and a half to my typical marathon time. We were just given our moment of truth. A few descriptions of the course, courtesy of Thom:

“There’s a steep hill covered in one foot of snow.”

“The mud, it’s like quicksand and can rip of your shoes.”

“Watch the person in front of you when they run through the mud and ponds. Either do what they do, or don’t.”

“This route is for all of the trail runners who love mud.”

“STAY OFF THE MOSS.” (Scientists measure the moss and will file a report if they see shoe prints.)

“After the race, quickly change and leave in a zodiac. You’ll get hypothermia if you stick around.”

8:00PM: Ok.

My bottles are labeled with my race number and name, and filled with Osmo and Gatorade. The many layers of New Balance clothing are laid out — with Body Glide topping off the pile. My bag is packed with a change of warm clothes for when I finish the marathon. (I’ll finish, right?) Tomorrow I’ll empty Stingers into the pockets of my jacket (absolutely no wrappers are allowed on Antarctica. I’m hoping the Stingers will freeze in my pockets and not become a gooey mess.)

I haven’t run since Buenos Aires. I did some light yoga and wandered up and down the ship trying to get in steps.

R: “Why are you nervous? It’s not the end of the world...”

L: “But Antarctica is the end of the earth.”

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII