I just realized I had not blogged about my successful marathon attempt. Too much going on and the poor blog is neglected time and again. With each day that goes by--the marathon was 10 days ago now--it seems more and more unreal that I even did such a thing as run 26.2 miles. I remember each and every mile, but it still doesn't feel like me who was doing that. But do it I did, and in a better time than I expected: 4 hours and 6 minutes. When I made it to the halfway point in under two hours, I thought, "huh, well, that's good." When I was still on target to do a slightly under 4 hour marathon at 3/4 of the way through, I allowed myself to dream a little dream of running what, for my age group, would be a Boston qualifying time of 4 hours. But somewhere around mile 21 I really hit a wall, and that little dream slipped away. That's ok, though. I still did better than I thought I would. It was at about that point in the run when one guy running near me looked at my face and said, "If it didn't hurt, everyone would be doing it, right?" I started wondering why *I* was doing it. I asked myself that at several points during the training, too. But I always came up with an answer to that question, and so I just kept going. Four solid months of training (on top of all the other training I did last year for three half marathons and various other races) and there I was, at the finish line, accomplishing my big goal. I was happy. I am happy, even though it still doesn't feel quite real. Went for my first run since the marathon yesterday. Only 4 miles, but ouch. I'm still not totally recovered, although that might partly be due to the innordinate amount of heavy lifting/gardening I've been doing in the mean time. And even though it hurt a little, I was still happy to be running again. Why did I run another marathon? Because now I carry one more little spec of joy and strength and will and sense of accomplishment deep down inside me.
I just realized I had not blogged about my successful marathon attempt. Too much going on and the poor blog is neglected time and again. With each day that goes by--the marathon was 10 days ago now--it seems more and more unreal that I even did such a thing as run 26.2 miles. I remember each and every mile, but it still doesn't feel like me who was doing that. But do it I did, and in a better time than I expected: 4 hours and 6 minutes. When I made it to the halfway point in under two hours, I thought, "huh, well, that's good." When I was still on target to do a slightly under 4 hour marathon at 3/4 of the way through, I allowed myself to dream a little dream of running what, for my age group, would be a Boston qualifying time of 4 hours. But somewhere around mile 21 I really hit a wall, and that little dream slipped away. That's ok, though. I still did better than I thought I would. It was at about that point in the run when one guy running near me looked at my face and said, "If it didn't hurt, everyone would be doing it, right?" I started wondering why *I* was doing it. I asked myself that at several points during the training, too. But I always came up with an answer to that question, and so I just kept going. Four solid months of training (on top of all the other training I did last year for three half marathons and various other races) and there I was, at the finish line, accomplishing my big goal. I was happy. I am happy, even though it still doesn't feel quite real. Went for my first run since the marathon yesterday. Only 4 miles, but ouch. I'm still not totally recovered, although that might partly be due to the innordinate amount of heavy lifting/gardening I've been doing in the mean time. And even though it hurt a little, I was still happy to be running again. Why did I run another marathon? Because now I carry one more little spec of joy and strength and will and sense of accomplishment deep down inside me.
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