happy thanksgiving from all of us here at the atlanta metblog.

this writer has plenty to be grateful for, including the opportunity to have had the forum to work on my writing and journalism skills (limited though they may be.)

whether you are with friends, family or celebrating this day alone, take a moment to reflect on what is good in your life.

and while you are doing that, please remember to keep our friends in mumbai in your prayers. you might even head over to their metblog and drop a message of support.

I bit the bullet. I have wanted to do a half marathon for a year or more, but things (work, family, kids, LIFE) kept getting in the way. I finally realized that if I didn’t just do it now, I would never do it.

I am doing it. i am running over thirteen miles. On Thanksgiving morning.

When i voiced my trepidation over Friday night drinks, my dear friend, fanatical and fast runner Nat, at The Negative Split, informed me that I should concentrate on the fact that i will be able to eat a whole turkey by myself at Thanksgiving dinner. Which I have to say does not sound half bad. Natalie, ever clothing-obsessed, also informed me that I will receive a medal, and that I am to not take it off on Thanksgiving Day, which should prove to give me some interesting family pictures. My children will show their grandchildren pictures of me wearing a medal at Thanksgiving dinner and the grandchildren will wonder when great-grandma went crazy. Obviously, the tipping point between passably sane and crazy was when I clicked the button to sign up to run thirteen miles. On Thanksgiving.

Perhaps you can tell I am nervous. There are hills. There is a wind tunnel effect downtown. A friend ran one year and people had frost on their clothing from the cold. What if it rains? What if I can’t empty my bowels before I start. What if I just have one of those terrible running days where I’m just not feeling it. What if I can’t sleep the night before? What if I oversleep?

Most importantly, how will I get through the night before Thanksgiving with my parents and without downing at least a whole bottle of red wine? This is unchartered territory. The possibilities for pain and disaster are endless. . . .

So, I beseech you, Metroblogging Atlanta readers who are just crazy enough to have run thirteen miles on Thanksgiving: I need your sage advice. I need your deepest Thanksgiving Half-Marathon secrets. I need your “how I made it” and “here’s what you need to do.”

In return, I think you will be getting a pretty giddy race report on Thanksgiving* Friday night.

*I will be in overdose mode from post-race Tryptophan and red wine ingestion and cannot guarantee Thanksgiving post.