I’ve been trying to distill my thoughts and feelings in to a blog for weeks now. I thought time to digest them would bring clarity to them, but I have given up on that happening. The marathon was a month ago, and a clear summary isn’t in sight.
I hate running. I thought I could train for this marathon, and I would beat my nemesis, running, once and for all. I finished the marathon. I finished in 4.75 hours. The average finish time for women is 5 hours. I am pleased that I finished, and yet I don’t feel the amount of satisfaction I was expecting. I naively thought this process would enlighten me. The truth is that I get more enjoyment and insight from reading a good book without extreme physical discomfort.
I had to quit the training plan 6 weeks prior to the marathon due to extreme hip pain. While I hate running, I love skiing, tennis, softball, swimming, biking, hiking, and volleyball. I deciding risking an injury for a sport that I hate wasn’t worth risking my future participation in the sports I love. I took a week off, and then ran 6 miles three days a week until the marathon. I had no problem doing the marathon. I didn’t hit the “runner’s wall”. I guess I felt frustrated that I suffered through all those weeks of training, when it seems that they were unnecessary. That was 120 hours of my life that I could have been reading good books. That’s so many Sundays spent running 15 plus miles instead of having brunch with my friends.
I suppose that’s really my conclusion. I did learn perseverance. I did learn that I can compel my body forward on just the strength of my mind. But I had to sacrifice a lot for those lessons. I had to sacrifice 8 hours a week to it. I had to sacrifice my well being since I experienced muscle soreness every day while training. In hind sight, I am glad I did the marathon, but I don’t think I will be doing anymore.