Just now I was standing at the landing at the top of the stairs, looking down that ominous flight of steps, trying to figure out how I would get down. Scott said, "Do you need me to bring you something?"
He's watched me hobble around over the last 36 hours or so and seems to have an understanding that my legs hurt. He just told me, "I don't think I've ever seen you so disabled..."
Yep. That about covers it! He's watched me train for and race 2 Ironmans in the last 3+ years but recognized this as the worst of it. I replied, jokingly but seriously, "Yes. See, this is why we train. So we don't feel like this. See, the more you train, the faster you complete the race, and the better you feel the next day. Don't train enough, and you don't have your best race, and you end up like this..."
I'm am not seriously hurt or anything- not like injured hurt- I've just got some really really ripped up quads and hips from running too far too hard yesterday. OUCH.
In the back of my mind I was hoping that the e21 I took pre, mid, and post race yesterday would have alleviated this. While I still believe in that stuff, and while I actually think I would be worse off today had I not taken any of it, unfortunately it is not actually a replacement for training. Lol.
But in the end, I am quite happy to feel like this. Because it means that I accomplished my goals yesterday. Last week, when I wasn't sure if I would/could do that marathon, I wrote, If I go out there next weekend and actually run 26 miles, staying relentlessly positive the whole time, and feeling completely spent at the finish line, well, that would be goal accomplished at this point. I got thrown. And now I'm learning. I'm learning how to change up my plans and accept that I can only do what I can do. But I'm still going to try to do it the very best I can.
Somewhere around mile 18 yesterday, when I realized how badly I was starting to hurt, I kept telling myself, "This is what you wanted, Michelle. You wanted to put yourself here... in this place of hurt. Embrace it..." I also self-talked myself into the fact that everyone around me was hurting just as badly as I was, even though they were all flying by me looking quite light and fresh. I knew that as horrible as those miles were from 20-24, I was quite happy to do them because it meant that I was not watching from the sidelines. I was out there, doing the best that I could at that moment, and that is indeed what I wanted.
So with that, I embrace this soreness and my inability to walk without looking like I am handicapped. Ideally at some point before the end of the week the stairs wont look quite so ominous anymore, but whatever. I don't have to run again until I feel like it, mentally and physically feel like it, so it's all good!
OK, I just re-read this post and yep, I sound like some sort of psycho endurance athlete... Ha!