I’ll probably never run a marathon again. I don’t need to. I set a goal for myself back in December, and I achieved that goal. I’ll find something else to strive to achieve.
I said that. Actually I wrote that here when I recapped my journey from out of shape to marathon man. Yet here I am, having completed another marathon. So why did I do it, how did it go, and what is next for me?
I will answer each of those questions individually, but before I answer the first question, I need to give some honest background as to why I ran the first marathon. In last year’s post, I openly discussed my weight loss, my newfound good shape, and my desire to rise to a challenge or lofty goal. Those weren’t the only reasons. There were two other reasons that previously went unspoken.
My preparation for the 2012 marathon coincided with my third year as a substitute teacher. The job market continued to get bleaker and bleaker, and I did not know what the future held for me. I felt like I had been treading water for years. I wasn’t a total bum, but I wasn’t progressing either. With my sister finishing up her degree and my cousin finishing up med school, I wanted to do something special, something that required a lot of effort and determination. Put bluntly, I wanted people (friends and family, not just one or the other) to have a reason to be proud of me. So I trained like a maniac. And it worked. People started to focus on my drive and tenacity, and that began to become what I was defined by.
I also wanted to do something amazing because I wanted to reward myself. As previously stated, I was not working a full time job, and I felt like it would seem foolish to go on a vacation with things the way they were. I decided to run the marathon so I could justifiably take a trip out west thereafter. I felt like it was the time to make a big move on the Jannelle front, and a trip out there was that big move. As things turned out, my trip got turned upside down and I didn’t make it to see her. But my desire to see her was one of the driving points for me to complete my marathon.
So why did I do it this time? I had a full time job, and an “admirable” one at that. I wound up meeting up with her later last summer in Chicago, and shortly after that things hit a bit of a snag. What made me decide to commit to another marathon?
I am the type of person who needs to have something to strive for or look forward to. Whether an exciting event or a long term goal, my life feels more worth living when there is a purpose. A marathon is a lofty, concrete goal that requires a specific amount of work and endurance. I knew what it took, and I wanted to do it again for me. Not for anyone else. Not for their approval either. I wanted to prove to myself that I could do this in the midst of the stresses of a full time job at an alternative school and without a girl I was desperately trying to impress.
I was also displeased by the way the previous marathon ended. I flew through the first 20 miles and then hit a wall. I wanted to end this race more happily than I ended the previous one.
So my dad I trained once more. This marathon was in Dubuque, Iowa, and ran along a trail. Unfortunately for us, there was a massive thunderstorm right before the race started. A couple inches of rain fell, and it delayed the start of the race by two hours. By the time the race began, the gravel trail was slop, and the weather was nasty and humid.
I was unhappy due to the conditions, but I was fine in the beginning. The trail was bad, but I toughed it out. Unfortunately, at Mile 16, I twisted my ankle in a sinkhole caused by the storm. As I braced myself to stop myself from wiping out completely, I strained the calf and Achilles tendon on my right leg. I gutted it out until Mile 18 when I realized that I would not be able to complete the race in a run.
At that point, I had a choice, and both of them were a bit humbling: call it a day due to injury, or physically drag myself to the finish? I had come too far to quit, and even though I had 8 miles to go, I dragged my body to the end. I couldn’t run by the time I got to the finish line, but I still had a smile on my face. It took me an hour longer than last year, but I made it. I didn’t quit when I could have and perhaps should have.
As I crossed the finish line, I knew that was the last marathon that I would ever run. It’s just not worth it to me to put forth that much time and effort in training and allow my legs to feel like junk for the better part of two months. I am not done running, however. It is my new goal to get my 5k time down below 19 minutes. Once my body is fully recovered from this marathon, I wouldn’t bet against me. I’ve got the drive to do it.
So what’s next? I don’t know yet. I don’t need to run another marathon. Every day life is a marathon. I’m sure I will set some lofty goal for myself. I’m happier that way. I don’t know where I’m going yet, but I’m looking forward to getting there. See you at the finish line.
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