The Aftermath

Jill was waiting for me at the finish, a very welcome sight, but her face told of her own sufferings. She finished her Half in 3 hours and change, and was rather disappointed with how it had gone. Personally, I don't think she had anything to be sad about. She got her medal too, and did something that she'd never done before. I wished she were happier, but as the day went on, I think she did start to realize the achievement more and feel better about it.

Also, she was in much better shape than me. I somehow made it back to the car and drove back to the hotel, but after a few hours of leg stiffening, I simply couldn't put any weight on the right leg at all. Fearing I would have a very hard time making it through three airports and two flights the next day I finally decided I had to seek help. An urgent care facility was open close by, so we went and spent two and a half very long hours in a soulless facility filled with coughing children and bored orderlies. The doctor, who it must be said didn't exactly do a thorough examination, determined it was "probably a torn muscle", said he saw it in marathoners all the time, and sent me on my way with a prescription for hardcore ibuprofen and a pair of crutches.

The crutches certainly helped keep weight off the leg, so they were a relief, and finally, at around 11pm, we got back to the hotel room and went to bed, knowing we'd have to be up, for the second night in a row, by 5am the next morning.

Here's a tip for you. If you want to get through an airport quickly, go on crutches. Fake it if you have to, but seriously, take note. I had been dreading the trip, but it was just about the smoothest travel experience I'd had. Assistants were only too willing to provide wheelchairs, which, in addition to getting through the airport quickly, also get through such nightmares as security lines in double quick time. No-one cares when a person in a wheelchair jumps the queue. On top of that, the check-in woman upgraded our tickets to give us free TV on the flights, and even changed our seats on the first flight to the first row, making it easier to disembark. It was awesome.

So I made it home, damaged but alive. I fulfilled my dream, though not quite in the way I'd hoped, and yes, I think in time I would like to try again, good health permitting. I won't run another one unless I feel 100% at the start line though. It's now Wednesday, three days later, and I can still put almost no weight on the leg. In fact, if it doesn't improve in the next couple of days, I will seek a second opinion on the extent and cause of the injury.

That doesn't mean I regret pushing through and finishing. As I've mentioned before, I might do more marathons, but I'll never do another first marathon, and it has been my experience that mental scars are more difficult to recover from than physical ones. If I'd dropped out, I'd be forever regretful. The way things did go, while I have allowed myself to occasionally second guess some of the decisions I made during training, I'm satisfied that I did everything I possibly could have done on the day of the race and pushed myself beyond the limits of which I felt capable.

I think with the passage of time, and after my leg heals, I will grow to cherish this experience every bit as much as if it had gone perfectly and I'd registered a sub-4 hour time. I've proved I can do it the hard way. I've proved that I have the character to complete a bad marathon as well as a good one. I've proved that it means more to me to hurt myself succeeding than protect myself failing. I believe it has been a life changing event.

I will probably post another one or two entries with some final thoughts, then likely will wrap this blog up. Writing this, like running, has been a very personal experience that I expect few, if anyone else, will have been interested in, but on the off chance someone did stumble across this at some point, I'd be curious to know what you thought and if you'd shared any similar experiences in your own life. If not, well, as with the running itself, it's something I think I'll enjoy looking back over and remembering what turned out to be a very cathartic time of my life.