I was hoping to run it in 1:40 or so, but I knew that would be pushing it. My Half time was 2:14, which, if you divide that down to 10 miles,would put me at around 1:43. My finish time? 1:37:29 Pretty darn cool!! Brigid and I ran together and finished seconds apart (she beat me- she totally deserved it! That chicka ran like she stole something that last quarter mile!! WOO HOO BRIG!!!); Sarah crossed the line 10 minutes later, in spite of an old injury paying her a visit and causing her to stop and stretch at one point. YAY SARAH! AWESOME JOB!!! I was the 18,843 of 33,982 finishers (over 40K actually ran the race!), and the 8509th woman (of 19018 women) to cross the finish line; in my age group, 3700 women ran and I was 1611th to cross the finish line.
I'm pretty proud of myself.
Yesterday, I was shot. Spent. Totally wasted. When I got home, I just crashed. I showered and could barely stay awake (getting up at 3:30am and running a 10 miler, I guess, will do that to you). I dozed on the couch and at the dinner table (after Peter lovingly prepared dinner). He was on kid duty all weekend, since I had packet pickup on Saturday then spent the evening with Bobby and Maya's oldest godsister, shopping for her dance. Sunday, I was gone before they woke and didnt get home until 4pm or so (thanks traffic... Who thought scheduling a playoff game for the afternoon instead of night was a good idea when THE biggest 10 miler in the country was being run????) By the time the kids were in bed, I was sound asleep.
But I woke up at 5:30am and debated going for a run, so I'm either crazy or okay. :)
Run like you stole it...
Run now, wine later...
You may be slow, but you're lapping the people sitting on the couch...
Brig busted this treasure out: Tomorrow, you can be sore or you can be sorry. And Peter, as I was in the shower telling him that I was slightly sore but nowhere close to sorry because I am PROUD of myself, tossed in his college motto of "Pain is temporary but pride is forever."
True that, folks. True that.
I'm actually not that sore. It's more of a pushed-yourself-to-muscle-failure type feeling; I'm still teaching yoga tonight so, obviously, I'm not that unhappy. My legs know they worked hard but they could run today. They just aren't. (I'm not that crazy.) I did struggle to get Bobby dressed today (he didnt want his pants on and man, that kid is STRONG), but I'm doing alright. And mentally? Cloud 9.
I'm not sorry. Sore? A bit. But sorry? Not a chance.
Because, really, the pain that comes from running like you stole it (while lapping couch potatoes) is temporary but pride? The pride of finishing (with a side of 'wine'/'whine' after...)... that's going to last forever.
Just like the medal. :)