I signed up for the marathon late Tuesday.
I drove 3 hours the night before the race.
I rushed around and ate too late.
I slept in an unfamiliar place and didn’t sleep enough.
It was a cold morning – in the low to mid 30s – when the race started.
The course had a lot of hills.
My hamstrings felt like they were being ripped apart by the last 3 to 4 miles.
I ran with my phone in my hand for GPS because my watch recently broke.
This was the third marathon I’ve run. This is my best time. I felt the best, strongest, most prepared, and most confident. I also managed to stay injury free.
I qualified for the Boston Marathon.
I can do better. I can train smarter. I can better prepare. I can have a better plan. I can get stronger. I have more in the tank. I have more left to give.
For now, I’m going to recover and get healthy. I’m going to savor the moment and enjoy it.
Somewhere deep down I must love the pain. I love challenging my body and my mind. I love pushing myself. I love seeing what I’m made of.
Why else would I put myself through it?
It hurts so good. The feeling I got when I crossed the finish line made the blood, sweat, and tears worth it. And yes, I experienced blood, sweat, and tears.