I haven’t run in two weeks because of a twisted ankle, I can hardly breath because of the pollen, my feet are blistered from a 30-mile backpack trip earlier in the week, which didn’t do my knees any favors, either. And this morning at 8 I’m going out with more than 100 other runners on the inaugural Mountains-to-Sea Trail 12-mile Challenge. That’s 12 miles on the rocky, rooty, twisty, turny Falls Lake section of the Mountains-to-Sea Trail.

I should be concerned. (Did I mention that I haven’t run 12 miles since New Coke’s 15-minutes of fame?) Yet, I’m as excited as I would be for a race I was prepared for. And therein may lie the answer to why, at 53, I still race.

Or, more accurately, participate in races.

If I truly viewed this as a race, as a traditional win-or-lose competition — as I viewed football and basketball games in high school — then I would be concerned. I haven’t the strength or experience to compensate for minor injuries. And based on the seemingly prepared runners who showed up yesterday afternoon at packet pickup, a hobbler ain’t going to be competitive in this race. Fortunately, for the last 10 years or so the only competitive urges I’ve had are with myself: Can I set a new PR, can I hit my target number?

As a 17-year-old football player, I could no more imagine running 12 miles, let alone doing it through the woods, let alone doing it at age 53. (Just the notion of being 53 would have been beyond comprehension.) When I stand at the starting line this morning, I’ll have no expectations, not even (today at least) for hitting my target.  I just want to finish.

And if my body parts are mostly happy at the end, so much the better.

I’ll be reporting live from the inaugural MST 12-mile Challenge starting around 6:30 this morning. Follow the action on Twitter at JoeAGoGo.