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Mom and Dad and Bum and I were good at traveling together because we had done it so often. This was the first time since the summer before my junior year that we were going on a road trip instead of a flying trip, and it hardly counted since we only drove for 5 hours, but we coasted down to St. George while Summer slept in the back and Dad talked to me about strategy and how to start out slow. I drank up every single one of his words, and I stared out the window a lot, thinking about the miles I would be covering the next morning.

We stopped by the expo center to pick up my packet and I was astounded at the immensity of the event. There were tables and booths and a whole center in the middle dedicated entirely to St. George Marathon t-shirts. There were 26.2 stickers and Goo packs and ShotBloks (we bought the rasberry flavor for my race the next day) and addidas shoes and hats and water bottles and every imaginable runner's accessory, all jumbled into one huge room with a bunch of antsy marathoners.

"I thought the Pikes Peak expo tent was huge. This is incredible!" I walked past a booth that advertised the Red Rock Relay and another that featured reflective wristbands for night running.

"Look at that guy!" Summer pointed to a man standing down the aisle from us, and I giggled. He fit every runner stereotype I ever knew. Bulging calves and close cut hair, a dri-weave tee hanging loosely on his gangly runner torso. he had a pair of sleek sunglasses on top of his tanned head, and he was munching on a protein bar. He talked to a woman I assumed to be his wife--she was a little over five feet tall, had calves to match his, and sported a swinging ponytail on top of his head. Runners. These were the people I would be spending the majority of my day with tomorrow morning.

We waltzed around the Expo center for awhile before shoveling some spaghetti in our mouths and driving to the hotel. St. George was dark by the time we were there, and I still knew nothing about the landscape where I would run. Our hotel sat overlooking the winking city lights and they seemed to shout out a reverent refrain.

"We'll still be here tomorrow! You will see us, as you come down the hill, the 26.2 mile long hill, and we will wave to you. But you might not be able to discern us then, so take this winking as the applause we want you to have. Good luck, Krista! Run like the wind!"

Now I thought lights were talking to me. This is why I try to avoid getting too nervous for anything.

Sum and I sat on the bed that night (the right bed, the one we always slept in whenever we traveled with mom and dad) and she squealed with anticipation.

"You are going to run a marathon tomorrow, Krista!! that is a lot of miles in one go!!!"