The Emotions Of An Angry Jogger Days After His Third Marathon.
I’m all over the place mentally at the moment so I thought I’d share this with you to try to take the edge off it all.
It isn’t all negative by any means. There are lots of positives in there but I just feel strange now.
- I’m feeling regretful – Again I find myself asking if I could have given any more in the marathon especially in those last few miles. My biggest regret was at the finish line where the photographers were asking us to smile. I was fucking livid. I felt like a pregnant woman being asked to grin for the camera at the tail end of a 5 hour labour and was close to flipping them the bird. I honestly wanted to fucking kill them. I made sure to give them my best fucking glare.
- I’m feeling hopeful – I know I haven’t ran my last marathon. In the past running the marathon has felt like the end for me. Miles 18 to 26.2 are never fun. You go through so much physical and mental trauma that you find it difficult to justify doing one ever again. But this time was different. I finished Paris with a little left to spare and was even up for the idea of picking another one to run the next morning.
- I’m in pain (but it isn’t that bad!) – I forgot to pack my Sudocreme for Paris and I’ve paid the price. My nipples are OK for once but my inner legs are like a fucking war zone. They are so badly chaffed that the individual little bumps scabbed over within 24 hours and it looks like I’ve burnt myself next to my twat with a clothes iron.
- I’m feeling fragile – I really want to run again but I know my body isn’t ready for it at the minute. It’s frustrating. I know if I go outside now I’m likely to pick up a niggle which will put me out for weeks. Running is my way to let out steam and if I can’t do it then shit gets weird. I have daydreams of going about my day-to-day life dressed as Mother Teresa, collecting money for the local bowling team’s annual Wankathon.
- I’m glad it’s over – This is a big one. I’m glad that my marathon is over and it wasn’t a complete disaster. I might have been disappointed by my time, but at least I didn’t elbow any fellow runners in the head. I enjoyed the experience too (mostly). And I got a personal best!
- I’m experiencing lots of self doubt – I can’t run very well, I can’t write very well and I’m running out of shit to write about. I can’t really advise others on how to run well when I’m fucking plodding along, can I? I really need to up my game!
- I’m relieved I got home OK – I’m fortunate that I didn’t miss my Eurostar on the way back into the UK. I didn’t leave the post-marathon area at Avenue Foch until 3pm. My Eurostar home departed at 5:07pm and I had to check-in half an hour before hand at the latest. What was most frightening was having to queue for the subway back to my hotel. It took at least half an hour in the end and then I had to fucking run again to the hotel to order a taxi (which ended up costing 25 euro) to Gare Du Nord to have a chance of actually catching it. I caught it by 5 minutes. The stress was fucking unbearable at the time. I had nightmarish thoughts of missing the train and having to spend the night in a ropey B&B in Calais run by Eric Cantona’s 7 foot tall sister.
- I’m thankful for the experience – I’m glad I had the opportunity to run the Paris Marathon it was a well organised event. Being able to travel to Amsterdam and then Paris/London was a real fucking privilege. Most people don’t get on holidays whereas I never seem to stop having them.
- I’m embracing my unhealthy addiction to running – If you’ve ever ran a marathon before then you’ll know what it’s like to rebound, get excited and to want to enter all of the races. I’m at that stage at the moment. I’m planning an autumn marathon and I’m thinking about Munich and maybe Dublin in the same month. I might have flunked Paris but I’m not fucking giving up now. There’s no turning back. I have to get the 26.2 right.
- I’m emotional for no reason at all – I might be having my period now. I just want to lie around tonight and do nothing but watch Lassie episodes, eat Chocolate Digestives and weep.
Fact : Lassie was a cunt in a dog suit.