With just a few days before my eighth marathon, the nerves, fear, and subtle panic have settled in. This upcoming race will be different for a couple of reasons. First, every race is different from the previous and from the next race. No matter how identical my preparation might be, external factors have an impact. The weather, the terrain, stress from work. Whatever.

What I know already is the challenge ahead will come in the form of Blackberry Mountain. Yes, Mountain. One mile uphill. Not a gentle rolling hill, but a Mountain. I have incorporated hills into my runs for the last two and a half weeks, but am scared expletive deleted.

What I also know is that the race comes the day before Father’s Day, so Dad will be on my mind. And failing Dad by not finishing weighs more heavily on the mind and the heart.

Logic tells me that he, like any father, likely would be proud for merely engaging in the race. But life and death defy logic.

Logic also tells me that paying the registration fee, paying for lodging, and paying for travel for the sheer pleasure of pounding out 26.2 miles is asinine. Which is why I will choose to ignore logic.

On race day, however, I will have to choose how to process the fear of failing Dad. Will I run from his death and its impact on me and my family? Or, will I run for his life – the life lived and the life lost. And will I continue to run for the lives of the many children for whom the Comfort Zone camps can provide a home where they do not feel alone or “different” from other kids.

That, after all, is why I am running in 2014. Sure, I would run anyway for my own sanity and illogical pleasure. But I am sure Dad would be more proud if I ran with purpose and for others. I hope to remember that every step up Blackberry Mountain.