is brutal. Agonizing. Nothing I had read or heard even remotely prepared me for how difficult it was. I knew to expect a great deal of physical and mental discomfort, but I was unaware of just how unbearable those last 5 miles would be. It is an act of God that I finished that race, and even more so the way in which I finished it, which really was pretty miraculous for all parties involved. In my next blog post, I will reveal just what that means, as well as rehash all 26.2 miles in gory detail.
I still have not fully wrapped my mind around the fact that I ran a marathon. I ran a marathon. It is unfathomable, and it almost feels like a dream/nightmare when I think back on it. Did I really do that?
Two days later, I am still in a world of pain; every fiber of my being hurts. Walking is difficult, the act of sitting makes me grimace, and going down stairs nearly brings me to tears. Even sleeping hurts. Once I am a bit more removed from the pain I might feel differently, but as of now, I declare that I am not running another marathon. I’m told my feelings on the matter will change as I regain mobility and forget the discomfort, but as for now, I am hurting, and I am not inclined to even entertain the idea of putting myself through another round of torture.
For now, I’m taking a mini running break. I am instructed not to work out for the next week, and that is exactly what I’m going to do. I will resume running at the start of the new year, but as for now, I *plan* on giving my body some solid recovery time. And I must say, it’s a nice change of pace.