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IMG_0456It’s the hottest day of this year so far. I don’t even need my jacket pre-race (which never happens). I’m ready for this. The past 18 weeks of my life have pretty much revolved around the next 4 hours of my life. I. am. ready.

1-9.5K: Oh I’m loving life, I could do this 4 times, maybe I’ll even come in under 4 hours!

9.5K (THE 10 BLOCK HILL OF EVEREST PROPORTIONS): It’s ok, I can do this, I’ve run up this hill before.

Just under 10K: Hill DONE, it’s just easy distance from here, this is a breeze.

11K: s-t-r-u-ggling a-lrea-dy, oh WHY? It’s way too early to be struggling.

Somewhere around 15K: Um maybe 4h15.

Sometime later: 4:30

WHY IS THIS GATORADE SO WATERED DOWN?

Soon after: 4:45

NEED. MORE. GATORADE.

Steps later: 5

MORE.

34K: Oh. just. let. me. finish.

37K: WHY DOESN’T THIS WATER STATION HAVE CUPS LEFT?!?

39K: If I run, I get tired. If I walk, everything hurts. This is fun . . .

42K: SO. CLOSE.

42.2K: After the most difficult 4:40:58 of my life, THE John Stanton medals me. People are passing me things: water, a bagged lunch, bananas? I’m too quasi-delirious to really know.

Must. Not. Move. Every. Motion. Hurts.

I finally find my mother, who came to watch at the finish line. She hugs me and says: “Do you want to spend the afternoon shopping downtown?

Good one mom, good one.

After brunch and a shower, I finally get to lay in bed and wonder how I’m going to make it to school tomorrow. It feels like every muscle fibre in my legs is retaliating. I scroll through my phone as social media congratulations come in, reading them makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. I would go get my iPad to attempt studying, but it’s not within arms reach. Not worth it. I curse my kidneys every time I have to get out of bed as they try to clear out all that water I’ve had.

bmobrunch

I hear that completing a marathon is a great accomplishment, I hear that I should be incredibly proud of myself even if I didn’t come under my goal time. I thought that finishing would give me a feeling of unstoppable-ness, that I could do anything. Maybe that feeling will come once I get over the immense soreness. I’m told I’ll change my mind soon, and I do hope I do, but for now: I’m. never. ever. doing. this. ever. again.

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