I like to think of myself as a retired runner these days. I came, I saw, I ran a freaking marathon, but now those days are over.
This weekend was the Brooklyn Half Marathon. Saturday morning I was bombarded on social media with race day pictures of smiling runners with their bibs. I honestly didn’t feel an inkling of jealousy or FOMO looking at those photos, I didn’t feel a burning desire to participate in the race with so many of my friends from the fitness and blogging community.
I [foolishly] entered the lottery for the 2016 NYC Marathon thinking No one gets in! If I get in, it must be a sign! Lo and behold my credit card got charged on lottery day and all I could think was Oh crap, I don’t want to run another marathon.
It’s been over two months since I found out I got into the NYC Marathon, and my thoughts haven’t changed.
While I had a really positive training experience last year, training for a marathon took a toll on me, my boyfriend, my family and just my life as a whole. I felt like I couldn’t do anything fun last summer because I was always tired or knew I couldn’t be on my feet all day when I had to run double digit miles every single weekend. I’m looking forward to being able to enjoy summer in the city without having the marathon as a creeping thought in the back of my mind.
I ran a marathon not because I love running, but because I wanted the bragging rights and to prove to myself that I could. I had literally no reason not to run a marathon and signed up before I could come up with a million excuses why I shouldn’t.
I now feel the opposite, I have no reason to run a marathon, except to say Hey, I did it again! The truth is, I don’t think I personally would be filled with the same sense of pride because let’s be honest, if I can do it once, I could probably do it again and PR’s don’t motivate me.
My marathon experience was amazing. I learned SO much about myself, what motivates me, the determination that’s hidden deep inside of me and only came out during those grueling long runs. I kept referring to it as “my marathon” because I really did feel a sense of ownership over it. Come race day, everything went perfectly. Part of me feels so grateful for that first marathon experience that I almost wouldn’t want to risk it by running another.
Everyone told me I would become a marathon addict.
Everyone told me that it’s hard to be a one-and-done marathoner.
Everyone pointed out the fact that I said I’d only run one half marathon, and then proceeded to run a few more.
Being a marathoner is a forever kind of thing. I will never not be a marathoner, if even I don’t run another mile in my life. For now, I’ll continue to enjoy life as a retired runner.
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