The Philly Marathon is less than a week away. That means that little voice in the back of my head has started to add two cents to every mental monologue.

That little voice says, “Go, look at the 10 day forecast. It’ll probably be snowing or sleet and freezing cold. You’re going to miserable. There’s no way you’ll get through this.” I avoided looking at the 10 day forecast but finally caved. Guess what? As of 8 p.m. on Tuesday night, the forecast is calling for partly cloudy and 45 degrees.

That little voice says, “You had a stomach bug last week. You couldn’t eat for three days. There’s no way you’ll do this.” It’s true. I had a terrible stomach bug, but I’m making sure that I eat well and get a good night’s sleep every day. I’m refueling and filling my batteries to be ready.

That little voice says, “Who do you think you are? 26.2 miles? There’s no way you’re going to do that. You aren’t ready. You haven’t done enough work.” Instead, I listened to the voice of my friend Natalie. She said “Patricia, you should do the 8k on Saturday and the marathon on Sunday.  That’ll be good prep for the Dopey Challenge.”  So it’s true.  I’m signed up for two races in two days.

That little voice likes to try to convince me that I’m not good enough or fast enough or smart enough.  It doesn’t really matter what the situation is, that little voice has something to say.

In short:  that little voice is a dick.

So I’ll ignore that little voice.  I’ll stick my fingers in my ears and la-la-la until it stops.  I’ll let other voices drown it out.  I’ll speak in my own voice instead.