Just a few minutes ago, I was sitting on the couch on the verge of my third full-on meltdown this week when it occurred to me that this time next week, I'll have FINISHED the bar exam. By 3:30 p.m. on Wednesday, I'll just be getting in my car for what will likely be the longest 2 hour car trip back to Wilmington-- back to my double sink full of dishes, my dog who hasn't gone on a long enough walk in weeks, my wedding-day diet, nightly runs, REAL food for dinners that don't come out of paper bags and waxy wrappings, board games and wine with my fiance, and time at the beach. I'm almost there, so close I can taste it (in between the Raisinets I'm hoovering at the moment.... stress eating, what?), but I'm positively more nervous and upset about taking this exam than I have been all summer.
See, the thing is, I might fail. REALLY, I might fail. Lots of people do-- I personally know one person who failed it 3 times, and another who's failed it twice. Very smart people, in fact, who have failed the bar exam. So, as much as I want to be so excited that it's over, I'm filled with dread that this is only round one in what could be a multi-round event, with me getting knocked out in the end. And, to add insult to the feeling of hoping I'll duck a roundabout to my teeth and make it through with just a couple black eyes (and an extra 5 lbs to boot), there is a lapis & champagne colored cloud that's fast approaching. I'm really nervous that on Oct. 14, in addition to having the normal wedding-day jitters, I'll be worried that my bridesmaids didn't have time to spread the word fast enough to remind guests NOT to ask me how the bar went because I've failed, and so some of the 242 guests on the invite list didn't get word. (Sidenote, if that happens, I think we may end up adding the full, top-shelf, all-you-can-drink, anything-you-want booze package back onto the menu. Who cares about the guests... I'll be the one who needs it!)
But, today, as my mind started to "go down the rabbit hole," as I refer to it, as the panicky feeling started rising from my belly to the back of my throat and the tears started to drip all over my highlighted portions of Limited Liability Limited Partnerships (yes, there is such a thing as an LLLP.... who knew?), I remembered my Mile-12 Meltdown.
During the Flying Pig, I thought I'd prepared myself for how hard it would be and I thought I had summoned enough grit and put in enough mileage to make it. It turns out I did, but the meltdown I had just after I crossed the Mile 12 marker almost cost me the entire race, because I almost let it stand in my way. It turns out, it defined my race experience and now it's helping me push through these last 6 days of studying.
I was having a really good run, feeling strong, just coming down out of the grueling Eden Park vertical climb and knowing the worst of the race was behind me and all I had to do was coast in. But, just after I passed the 12-Mile marker, my body stopped working. My stomach started acting up (any runners out there know exactly what I mean), and so I panicked... which turned into tears. Then, I was mortified that among all these "real runners" I was almost crying on a race course, and my pace slowed to a shuffle. I was convinced that my legs WOULD. NOT. RUN. one more step, and my knees picked that moment to start screaming.
Finally, I pulled over and stopped. Completely stopped, just standing there, wondering how I was going to make it the 1.1 miles to the finish line. After I became convinced that I was not going to puke in public, I looked at my watch, remembered the countless training runs where I was still a "2 & 1" runner, and gave myself one minute to walk. I remember telling myself, out loud, "You've got 60 seconds to get your shit together and put your big girl panties on and finish this thing." And I did. I took those 60 seconds, regrouped, and finished the race in under three hours, upright, and actually smiling when they took my photo at the finish line. About a half an hour later, I had a recovery shake in one hand, a beer in the other, a medal around my neck, and the most awesome feeling of satisfaction I had ever felt.
So... it seems I've got a little longer than 60 seconds to recover this time, but not by much. I have 6 days to get my shit together, put my big girl panties on, and finish this thing. Right now, today, I'm pulled over, stopped completely, and I'm staring at the little calendar on the bottom right of the computer screen and all the books on my table. I'm trying to remember how many flashcards I missed last night, and how many essays I can completely screw up and still pass. I'm analyzing my MBE quiz charts as if they held the secret to everlasting life, trying to convince myself that my checkpoint quiz scores are flukes and I will actually pass. The tears have subsided, at least for now (Dustin, if you're reading this at work, no promises they won't come back later), and I'm completely overwhelmed, but at least I've had the Mile-12 Meltdown moment and I am actually buying into the idea that I will make it the rest of the way in.
I guess that means it's back to the books for this girl. I'll see you on the other side...with a glass of wine in one hand, a Cosmo magazine in the other, and at least the feeling of having one bar exam under my belt to show for it.
To my law school friends, hang in there. We're in this thing together-- all the best of luck. Think of all the "Das Boots" you can drink when it's over. Cheers.
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