Energy, energy, all around...

That's the start of a very popular pre-show theatre warm-up. It goes like this:
"Energy, energy, all around...it can bring you up...it can bring you down!"
The cast will warm up and then do this concentration exercise together, usually to enhance connectivity onstage. It builds from a whisper to a scream, but on the last repetition, you don't say "it can bring you down"...you replace that bit with a line from the show. Clever, eh?
This rhyme has been ticking away in my head recently, probably because we open Three Sisters this evening and also because I have a 20 mile run tomorrow that, for some reason, has made me very unnaturally nervous.
Granted, it could be pre-show jitters as well. I've had more than a few thoughts about tripping on my runs this week, having to then play a character with a mysterious limp. Feasibly, it could be that the nervous energy from this show is getting transferred to my running brain.
(For the unenlightened, a "running brain" is a special organ that encases your existing everyday brain during a long run, dousing it in a jelly-like liquid that emits small neuro-waves of unfiltered bliss, resulting in a feeling of capriciousness. Doctors are still mystified by this phenomenon; studies suggests a link between the running brain and month-long vacations.)

At times like this, I have to make a decision about either fighting off the nervousness and applying logic, or trusting my instincts and giving into the nagging feeling that something could go terribly wrong.
In the past, I would have trusted my instincts. And that sounds so completely off-kilter, I know. But, since I've started running long distances, I've learned to stop giving in to my instincts. It sounds weird, but when you're at mile 16, and your legs are getting tight and you're tired and you just want to stop and the left side of your brain is fighting with the goopy running brain serum, screaming at you to just stop running because you're not going to get there any faster, you're running out of water, you didn't have enough to eat for breakfast, and would you please just walk for God's sake...that's the moment when you have to turn off your instincts and just keep going. (I find that music is especially helpful in these moments. Humming usually does the trick. When it escalates to a full-blown rendition of Oklahoma!, you can bet I've checked out completely.) There is something to be said for stopping if you're feeling injured or faint, but that left brain negativity has a tricky way of making you think you're about to die, when really you're just melodramatic like your mom always told you.

Now, when all else fails, I can talk myself out of the nervousness by creating a Worst Things That Could Happen list. For example:
1. I'll go running on Saturday and fall and break both legs.
2. I'll go running on Saturday and get hit by a car.
3. I'll go running on Saturday and be dehydrated and tired, which will make me susceptible to the left brain guerrilla warfare.

Answers:
1. I'll just have to take it a little slower tomorrow and not get caught up in the speed game. If I break my legs, I'll just sit onstage for the whole show and never move, making a quite literal expression of the phrase "We'll never get to Moscow!"

2.Stay on the trail and look both ways before crossing the street. Also, wear handkerchief to keep sweat from blinding me.

3.Drink water today until I've peed my brains out, and then I won't have any brain left to fight me tomorrow.

3b. La la lalalalaaaaa laaaaaaaaaaaa laaa la la...