My Running Journey

Post-marathon depression is a real thing, I don’t care what anyone says. It’s been a jumble of emotions these past few days. One minute I’m overcome with happiness that I did it (!!!!), the next I’m bitter it’s over.

I highly considered leaving the next part of this post out and just skipping to explaining how I got into running (because even re-reading it, I’m getting annoyed with myself), but I must stay honest and so it stayed.

I hate that I’m even going to say this, but right after the race I gave myself a really hard time about my “finish time.” I’m aware I’m the only one who cares. We trained to finish in around 4 hours and 20 minutes and right before the race, Hadley and I both said we knew it could actually happen. Mind you, our real goal had always been to simply finish. It was going to be our first marathon and Boston is one of the toughest courses (if not THE toughest!). The 4:20ish thing really came out of nowhere, it was something we just realized we could do after the pace of our long runs stayed consistent. Anyway, you know how it is once you get something in your head.

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