So I will always swing by the Trak Shak to pick up my race packet before heading to Things Remembered for the engraved gifts for authors who have contracted for 5, 10, 20, 25, or 35 books total.
I will always stay up late the Friday night before, going over my race strategy (don't stop; don't walk; don't fall down) while taping together bouquets of silk roses for the authors, one for every book they've contracted this year.
I will always wax poetic about how making a success of this strange career is exactly like being a long-distance runner. The applicability of the metaphor is endless. You need to write/train every single day and get in the habit so it doesn't hurt anymore and you don't even think about whether you're going to do it--you just do. College-age people made of rubber will pass you, finish, turn around, and RUN BACK TOWARD YOU while you are still struggling on mile 4 like they JUST CAN'T GET ENOUGH RUNNING, and this will make you angry. But you need to find your own pace and quit worrying about what other people are doing. If it's not fun for you, it's not worth it.
And finally, when I get to the luncheon, I will always eat as much as I want.