Last week, I ran a marathon.
I wrote a (too) long post with the play-by-play that I will put up later, but for now, I just need to put it out in the universe in writing. I haven't processed it yet. It doesn't feel real to me.
Maybe there were too many emotions, too many highs and lows, to put into words?
Maybe I can't believe that I voluntarily put myself through that much pain?
Maybe I can't accept that, hard as it was, as long and difficult as the training was, that it's all over?
So much preparation, anticipation, eagerness/dread, Gus and sunblock, sweat and tears, worn down shoes, and so, so many early mornings... all in the past now. My first marathon. I'll never get it back.
(Typing this, I realize it sounds like I lost my virginity. Funny, since during the race I couldn't stop comparing the mental game and various unpleasant physical sensations to childbirth).
Six days later and I can finally walk down the stairs normally. I still have a sharp pain in my right foot now and then, but it is fading every day. I have slept 8-9 hours every night this week, a rarity for me. And I have been eating, everything, like it's my job. Life goes on. I am recovering.
I am thinking a lot, too. Thinking about that 240lb girl who, just 9 years ago, would get winded walking across the parking lot. So many years spent miserable, misdirecting my energy, filling voids with food, not realizing that feeling good in your body means much more than a pair of jeans that fit. It means nourishing yourself, not feeding yourself. It means activity, not exercise. Doing what you love, not what you are obligated to do. Turning your passion and pain and energy into forward motion instead of standing still and letting it burn you up from within.
I did not discover these things through running. Knowledge and a willingness to change led me to running, and running has taught me to embrace all the best parts of myself.
My mantra over the last 6 miles: Fearless. Free. Grateful.
|Floating!! And passing the guys, because I can :)|