Marathon!

Holy shit! I did it.

So fresh - at the start!

That's pretty much all I can think right now.

That and, control freaks probably shouldn't run marathons... or at least, control freaks like me...

I had been thinking of running one, I've written about it before. It's part of a long list of things to do the year I turn 40. I sort of buckled to peer pressure though and signed up for one earlier than I originally planned. Originally planned June, after I actually turned 40. Ended up doing one in April, more than a month before I turn 40. No matter. I signed up, paid my money and set up a training plan. A very long and somewhat tortuous training plan. Which I didn't follow exactly. Some days, no matter what, you just don't feel like following the plan. Even a control freak like me will shirk the plan on occasion. Then feel guilty. And maybe a little dirty.

Finally, like all things, it actually came to the day. As I considered it a bucket list item, a one and done, I wasn't very nervous. I just had to not die. Literally.

And, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Mostly because I really had no expectation. The first 13 miles were a breeze. Yes, I said that. But then, oh but then, my left knee lost its mind and stopped bending. STOPPED BENDING. Because it's an asshole. I staggered along... an old woman on a bike asked me if I was okay. When a 70+ year old woman on a bike is concerned about your condition you know things are bad... or at least possibly bad.

I had to keep going though. I had trained for six months. There was no way I was leaving that course unless it was on a stretcher. In an ambulance. Worst case, hearse.

The poor husband was trying so hard at the check ins to be helpful - offering snacks and protein and energy things. But, honestly, I was so not in the mood. I was in the mood to stab someone. For sure. In that mood. Stabby. STABBY.

Around mile 16 that knee finally loosened up and and started behaving. I had a solid five or six miles after that.

Eventually it lost it's mind again and pulled my right foot into the insanity. I very slowly made my way to mile 26. The last .2 were brutal. Even with my friends cheering me on, I barely finished. But, I did.

More time than I wanted. But, it's a one and done thing. So who cares?

Right?

Oh, but the and then...

After I was showered and fed and napped.

I'm doing it again. But, better. Because now I have a baseline. I have what all control freaks need.

Metrics.

Done. With medal.