Damn

It took me a good 4 hours to catch up on everything. As the sombrero-ed naked mole rat rubber toy is my witness, I will never be Internet-less again!!

Anyway.

48 hours ago, I was struggling up Summit Avenue in St. Paul, watching the 4:30 pacer go by, and vowing that I would not see the 4:45 pacer pass me. As we now know, I didn't. Go Team Me.

I now understand what it mean to not be entirely in control of one's voluntary muscles. I walked 1.25 miles home last night, and there was a point where I was genuinely afraid for my right knee, because my thigh muscles were on the verge of complete failure. I've had joints go out before, but not like that. Not because their support system failed.

Other than that, however, I feel good. It sucks to walk, true, but I fucking ran a marathon. I've had a hell of a lot thrown at me over the past two years (unemployment, father figure taking ill and dying, hardhard breakup, having to move out of my apartment), and it didn't let up until about three weeks ago. And I ran a fucking marathon, and I turned in a hell of a time for a first-timer.

I'm under no illusions that the next marathon (L.A., hopefully) will feel this good. I'll be in a strange city, on an unfamiliar course, and the novelty will have worn off. It will be harder, much harder. Doesn't matter. I'll do it.

Never before have I pushed myself this hard, either physically or mentally. Thing is, the mental game took place long before I even lined up in the starting chute. Once I was in place in front of the Metrodome, I had no choice but to keep going forward. Literally. All the way through the run, even when I wanted, desperately needed to throw up (I never did), I had no choice but to continue. My brain gave me no other option. The training, though, that was the mental game. That was the "I must run 10 miles today. But I don't want to. But I must." game in full force.


So, I have a new and exciting challenge a head of me: training for the LA marathon. Why is this such a challenge? Here's why:

1. The novelty of "I ran a marathon" is gone. I've run a marathon now. What bragging rights does one's 2nd or 3rd bestow? (Apropos of nothing, I saw a sign that was cheering on a guy's 87th marathon. I don't quite grok, but good on him if it's true.)
2. The aforementioned training mindgame. "I don't wanna run. I'm tired. But I must. But whyyyyy?"
3. The fact that the weather's going to turn nasty in about a month, and stay intermittently nasty until well past 3/7/04.
4. I can't afford a gym membership, so I'll have to squeeze in runs when I can, and do a hell of a lot of aerobics when I can't.

I'll do it. And it will be fabulous.

(Note: I finished this post 48 hours after I came across the finish line. I yelled as loud as I could when my feet went past that line....)

New GIP, and a note:

I'm not sure I like the tan line or the way my hand looks, but there's my tattoos. That's my back.



I haven't been able to break the marathon down in my head. I really don't remember much about it. I remember the start, I remember most of the times Zach met me (he was a wonderful support, meeting me every two miles or so with water, Gatorade, oranges and CLIF shots), I remember seeing Carl, and Carolyn, and David and Tina. I remember stopping to stretch my quads and my hamstring cramping up in protest. I remember the sheer number of little kids putting out their hands to give the runners high fives. I remember pumping my fist and cheering on the two guys who sprinted past me to the finish line.

But I don't remember running Minnehaha Parkway. I don't remember the West River Parkway. I barely remember most of Summit. It's odd, because I can remember most of my training runs. Weird.

Anyway.


edit: Ah, hell. Just check out the three new icons at the bottom. (Ewan's a repeat, but so pretty. Kind serenada gave him to me....)