You are two weeks out from the 26th California International Marathon. All your hard training is behind you, all those lonely, 20-mile runs endured, all that pasty Gu gagged down, those pesky shin splints and hamstring strains long iced over.

Now, blessedly, comes the taper.

The taper is that time when marathoners should exhale, kick their shoes off, put their feet up and seriously cut back on mileage in preparation for the Dec. 7 race.

By the final week, all but the most hard-core distance runners hoping to peak on race day have reduced workouts to half the duration – though keeping up the intensity. Interval work, by this point, mostly means consuming that elusive carbs-protein diet balance.

Bottom line: You should be rested, fresh, ready to kick tail for that personal best.

OK, so why is it you're so miserable and edgy, as anxiety-ridden as a Woody Allen character?

Simple. You're tapering. It's one of the primary, if oft-neglected, challenges that marathoners face. Only this one is much more taxing mentally than physically.

Think about it: Runners tend to be obsessive. You can't routinely log 50- to 100-mile weeks and not be. Telling these people to throttle down is akin to asking a Maserati to go 25 in a school zone. The runner's engine – or, in this case, psyche – revs in complaint.

Rich Hanna, race director of October's Cowtown Marathon and Thanksgiving Day's Run To Feed the Hungry, says those feelings are normal for experienced runners and the middle-packers he coaches for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society's Team in Training.

"They are twitching in anticipation," Hanna says. "They're hypersensitive to any little ache or pain. Anybody who sneezes in the office makes them run for cover. They don't want to get sick or hurt before the race."

This free-floating, pre-race anxiety seems common. Runner's World magazine recently ran the poll: "Do you like to taper?"

Results: 55 percent of 2,124 respondents answered that "I know it's good for me, but I always feel antsy," while 26 percent answered that "I love the rest and the free time" and 8 percent answered "I hate it."

Even Olympic-caliber runners share that emotion. Elite running coach Jack Daniels is quoted in the magazine as saying the final week before a race is when "you start questioning every facet of your training, lifestyle, sanity and reasons for getting up in the morning."

Sacramento marathoner Chad Worthen, winner of the 2008 San Francisco Marathon last summer, says he usually limits his taper to two weeks, "because it doesn't get you all that extra time to think, get sick, feel fat."

Perhaps what's needed, says University of California, Davis, professor of sports psychology Paul Salitsky, is perspective. Athletes need to train themselves for positive thinking during the taper just as they psyche themselves for those long, hard training runs that preceded it.

"It's really how you look at the world," says Salitsky, who works with UC Davis athletes. "If someone's a negative Nancy, they're going to be thinking, 'What can go wrong?' ask themselves if they're doing everything right. That can lead to a self-fulfilling prophecy.

"The other side, I work with athletes who salivate for the taper. These are guys putting in 100-mile weeks, and that last week, their feet are up, they're watching movies and thinking, 'This is great.' "

Moreover, New York sports psychologist Jenny Susser stresses that the taper can mentally make or break a runner.

"Training gives the distance runner the confidence," Susser says. "Resting does not. But as your body recovers, your mind starts to recover, too. So you need to do it. You've got to deal with inner dialogue. Mental toughness is being prepared for whatever your little voice is going to throw at you."

Susser, a former competitive swimmer, says tapering for her sport often took as long as seven weeks before a big competition – a period she called maddening.

"Even three weeks is a long time to bite your nails," she says. "So I understand what they go through."

Call The Bee's Sam McManis, (916) 321-1145.