It has been one week since I ran the San Diego Marathon. I’ve gone on one run since then and am no longer limping around or complaining about being in pain walking up my apartment stairs.
But it still hasn’t hit me.
I’ve reread my post a thousand times; I’ve reread all the tweets, facebook comments and blog comments; I’ve sat and stared at my medal and bib and still, I don’t feel like I finished it. There is something missing.
In actuality, when I think about the race, I’m not even happy I did it. Something about the race, or that happened during the race is keeping me from enjoying and celebrating the fact that I RAN A MARATHON.
I wouldn’t say that I feel disappointed in how I went, though at the same time I think I might be. Ultimately my goal for the race was just to finish and raise money for the environment via World Wildlife Fund and I did. I didn’t hit my goal, but that’s alright because I raised a significant amount of money and that’s great.
I think it was this moment that has stuck with me and made me feel…lost over the race (although I apparently can’t spell and walk at the same time; haha):
I knew that at some point in the race I was going to have to walk, factored that in and was fine with it. But I never thought I was ever going to feel so defeated like I did at mile 18. I know that running a race like this is much more mental than physical but I never ever thought I would feel like I needed to quit like I did.
I can’t even explain to you the anguish that I felt at that mile. I wanted everything to end. I secretly wanted my body just to give out on me and pass out, so I could say that it wasn’t just my head that gave up on the race and actually my body. I wanted an excuse to finish right then and there. And I think that feeling, that “giving up and giving in” is what has held me from enjoying running a marathon.
I remember thinking about the race the day before and telling Whit that I was probably going to cry when I crossed the finish line. I could have cried about it right then and there just telling him it. I knew it was going to be an emotional experience because it’s been something I’ve been dreaming about for years.
But the second I crossed that finish line, NOTHING. The smile that’s on my face in my finishers photo is forced. Ok, I might have been smiling simply because the race was done and therefore the pain, but other than that, there were no emotions whatsoever. Now, I’m not a super emotional person like others, but I knew that I was going to feel something at the end, yet I had nothing. It bothered me as I walked through the corral and through to find my family. I knew something was wrong with my mentality when I finished the race.
I’ve been thinking about it all week as people have told me how proud they are and how I feel now that I finished a marathon and although I smile and say it was an experience, there is something empty about it. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s almost like it didn’t happen. Is that crazy or what?
I don’t know what to do about my emotions over it. A part of me wants to run another one just to see if I can get that feeling of accomplishment that I’ve been missing from this one, but I don’t know if I could do it again. I had feared failure before this race because I thought I might let all of you and my donors for the fundraiser down, but never myself.
What happened? Has anyone else run a race they built up so much for and then, nothing? I’m so lost over this race when I should be relishing in smiles about conquering such a feat…