Well...sigh...it's over.
Never have I been so happy to say something was behind me in all my life.
This may end up highly cryptic and only meaningful to myself...but I have to release all of these thoughts whirling...whirling...whirling...in my head. My feet may have stopped running...but my mind has started a sprint that my emotions simply cannot keep up with any longer. I'll have to trust my fingers to get me where my legs have failed.
In true granola fashion, I'll not start at the beginning or end...but right in the middle...hoping the words will wind themselves around to one big happily ever after.
As I crossed the finish line I celebrated. I celebrated not because I was now one of the 1%, but because it was behind me...it...being the expectations...discussions...preparations...irritations...oh the irritations...my heart still quickens and I still want to slam my head into a car when I think of the many irritations (moving, illnesses, skipped runs, etc). I can say with much assurance that emotional disappointments and mental irritations can be the biggest wall one hits during 26.2 miles. My muscles fatigued, my feet hurt, my back ached...but my mind...oh my mind...always has...always will be...my biggest enemy.
As I crossed the finish line I searched. I searched for my husband. The one whose very presence calms me...anchors me...inspires me. He ran his first 5K that morning. All I could think about the last few hours( besides how bitterly disappointed I was becoming in what was shaping up to be a very boring and foot numbing run) was crossing the finish line so that my knight-in-a-lime-green-race-t-shirt could whisk me away from all the people...oh my...the people. I just wanted to get away from all the people. Crowds of people exhaust me more than running ever has.
As I crossed the finish line I learned. I learned that the expected sense of accomplishment of completing my marathon pales in comparison to the daily sense of accomplishment that I feel in the little moments of my life. I learned that I love my husband more than I ever imagined...that my children take my breath away more than any bucket list dream...that you can love something [running] so much that the expectations of what it will bring can rob it of all the joy...kill the moment...leave you empty...and very very very sore.
After crossing the finish line I realized. I realized that I have the best group of friends and family that any Granola could ever desire. I realized that some of my favorite moments during the race were the ones that I found myself utterly alone and very discouraged. It was in those moments that I reached out to the others around me who seemed to be in the same situation. It was in the moments that I felt totally empty that the act of reaching out to others was exactly what filled me up again...kindness of a stranger...unexpected act of compassion in a difficult situation.
After crossing the finish line I acknowledged. I acknowledged that maybe it was exactly what I had expected...it was hard...it was sacrifice...it was beyond all of my wildest imaginings. I acknowledged that my biggest hurdles to climb were my thoughts...my hurt feelings...my frustration. I am pretty sure I smeared them all on the streets of Memphis. I acknowledged that I will most likely never run that particular race again...for whatever reason...it was just too painful.
Now that I have crossed the finish line I can say that "marathoner status" has reminded me to simply look around...not too far back...not too far ahead...just right around. Look around...reach out...take it all in....the good and the bad...and keep putting one foot in front of the other...and to bring as many along with me as will come.
Everyone is a marathoner...whether they realize it or not.
