Prelims, year 3

I'm not even nervous at the line. Not even a little bit.

I know I should be, because you never know what's going to happen, but I'm just...not.

I don't think there's any way that I don't make the final. I expect it not to hurt, which is stupid. Unless you're world class, running in high 4:0x range isn't a cakewalk. It can sting.

68, 70. We're walking, which is dangerous.

You never know who can be there on a kick. Someone takes it hard with 500m to go. Fine, let him go. Top 4 make the final and I don't need to run a 60.

3 follow him. Damn, maybe I do need to go.

Cutting around the turn we really are moving. I'm trying to relax in 4th, but there are two on my shoulder. Kicking around the final bend, we finish up right at 4:10, with a 59/60 last lap. Yes, that stung. More importantly, I hope my foot holds up. Plantar fascistic has been biting for over a week now.

Tomorrow, Finals.