Let's start with the disingenuous sunny side of the whole debacle:
- I completed my 7th full marathon!
- I didn't give up, even through the heat of Honolulu, blister, chafing and plantar fasciitis!
- What an accomplishment!
- Wow wow wow!
- Happy happy happy!
- Positive positive positive!
That's enough.
Crossing the finish line this year, I felt the least proud I have ever felt at the end of a race. There was no reason to imagine it was going to end well, considering I'd only trained up to ten miles. And yet, at the starting line, under the dark, humid skies of Honolulu, surrounded by tens of thousands of athletes, I couldn't help fantasizing about finish line triumph.
There were a few good moments. Miles 1-10 were pretty fantastic, actually. But a few miles later the walking started, and before long it transitioned into limping, with some mild whimpering to accompany the sound of my dragging feet. And it wouldn't be a marathon without my customary emotional breakdown around mile 25, when I start thinking about all of the people who love me in this world, and then I start to cry a little, and then it gets hard to breathe because crying takes too much oxygen. Thankfully, my go-to mantra, "Buck up, Princess," is the world's most effective method of shutting down hyper-emotionalism and getting back to business.
This marathon was a slap of necessary, but kind of mean honesty. Girl, you suck at this right now. And you're going to keep sucking at this if you don't actually run. You have no business imagining you're going to do well just because you're super good at positive visualization.
Thanks, marathon. And so the real triumph is not the marathon I did last weekend, but the fact that I packed my gym bag, left it in my car, and headed straight to the gym after school on Tuesday, instead of taking the 4-20 weeks of "rest" that I usually take around the holidays.
I'm signed up for a half marathon on New Year's Eve. I'm in training.
- I completed my 7th full marathon!
- I didn't give up, even through the heat of Honolulu, blister, chafing and plantar fasciitis!
- What an accomplishment!
- Wow wow wow!
- Happy happy happy!
- Positive positive positive!
That's enough.
Crossing the finish line this year, I felt the least proud I have ever felt at the end of a race. There was no reason to imagine it was going to end well, considering I'd only trained up to ten miles. And yet, at the starting line, under the dark, humid skies of Honolulu, surrounded by tens of thousands of athletes, I couldn't help fantasizing about finish line triumph.
There were a few good moments. Miles 1-10 were pretty fantastic, actually. But a few miles later the walking started, and before long it transitioned into limping, with some mild whimpering to accompany the sound of my dragging feet. And it wouldn't be a marathon without my customary emotional breakdown around mile 25, when I start thinking about all of the people who love me in this world, and then I start to cry a little, and then it gets hard to breathe because crying takes too much oxygen. Thankfully, my go-to mantra, "Buck up, Princess," is the world's most effective method of shutting down hyper-emotionalism and getting back to business.
This marathon was a slap of necessary, but kind of mean honesty. Girl, you suck at this right now. And you're going to keep sucking at this if you don't actually run. You have no business imagining you're going to do well just because you're super good at positive visualization.
Thanks, marathon. And so the real triumph is not the marathon I did last weekend, but the fact that I packed my gym bag, left it in my car, and headed straight to the gym after school on Tuesday, instead of taking the 4-20 weeks of "rest" that I usually take around the holidays.
I'm signed up for a half marathon on New Year's Eve. I'm in training.
Honolulu Marathon, 2015
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