The blues

At one week since the race, I think I’ve officially come down with the post-marathon blues.  I don’t have anything to be sad about.  I trained hard, I had a successful race and I can look back on the day with pride.  So why do I feel all bummed out?

I remember feeling like this the day after Barry and I got married.  For two years, my life was centered around wedding planning.  It was an enormous build-up to what equated to a mere 8 hours of celebration.  On the day after the wedding I packed away my dress and unpinned my fancy hairdo.  The cake had been eaten, the music played, the dances danced.  It was all over.  Sure, I had a wonderful husband to show for it but there’s something magical about your wedding day, right?

I guess the marathon is a bit like that but on a smaller scale.  For the last 18 weeks I’ve had this singular goal in front of me.  Most of the time, I couldn’t wait for it to be over.  I was exhausted from training and looked enviously at people around me who were able to live a normal life.  Despite all my moaning, there was still pleasure in that period of preparation.  On a tough day, I could envision the race and look forward to the happiness I’d feel when I completed it.  I miss that feeling.  Do you see how this marathon stuff can be addictive?  Nobody told me that my first 5 mile race was a gateway drug for all that followed.  Now I can’t seem to live without that adrenaline rush.  To phrase it in an extremely corny way, I’ve come down from an awesome, natural high and I need my next fix.

This morning will be my third post-marathon run.  Knock wood, I’m feeling good if a little purposeless.  Training for Chicago begins on June 8th.  I can’t wait to get back into the swing of things.