Since You’ve All Been Wondering…
So here’s the thing, so people stop asking: No, I’m not doing the marathon thing anymore.
It was probably a shite idea from the start, let’s be honest. No one will my complete inability to give up happy hour and cigarettes (to say nothing of cheese and Skittles) (which go GREAT together) was ever really going to be able to do a marathon with only 6 months to train myself from Couch Champion to Marathon Staggerer.
With these daunting odds against me, about 3 months into my efforts (when I was up to pretty good mileage of 7 and 10 milers on the weekends), I hit a perfect storm contributing to my demise, broken down thusly:
a) Plantar Fasciitis, which I have illustrated in Fig. 1 (60% contributing factor in the quittage).
Fig. 1
b) A new relationship, which is a time-suck (albeit a terrific time-suck) (and with a damn chef for crying out loud, hard to work the motivation to run when you’re being served bacon-potato-cheese scrambles for breakfast, as in Fig. 2 (17% contributing to quittage).
Fig. 2
c) Supreme, total, and in every way laziness, which had been battled aside for a couple months when the mileage was low and I was riding high on all the rampant praise and support from friends (”You’re doing a marathon?? Oh my, I wish that I was that committed, I can hardly get out of bed in the mornings!”), but which has slowly taken hold, aided by couches and salty snacks (23% contributing factor to quittage, as per Fig 3).
Fig 3.
Well, there you have it.
For what it’s worth, I’m going to think about paying the minimal fee to transfer my registration to next year. A marathon is still something I really want to do, since my sister seems to enjoy them so much, and believe it or not, I really do like running! I just was struck down in this particular effort.
Sigh.
You may begin shaming me.
Seriously, I am/was proud of you. I really thought you were gonna do it. Plantar Fascitis can be dealt with, a good chiropractor, an ultrasound machine and a bucket of water. As a real (I finished 2 days ago and am now a doctor…) chiropractor, I hate the idea of using an ultrasound machine, but seriously, me and one of those will end any vestiges of the PF. Get your ass back out there and be a manimal. I need to get my ass off the couch and do some sort of activity.
Football started today and I have had 9 beers, ordered $60 worth of shit on amazon (which happens when I drink), morning sex, and a whole steak. TOmorrow, Paisner and I watch 2 MNF games and I sleep on a roll-away bed in his hotel (hopefully). Get your shit together.
I participated in my first marathon this weekend… as a sleepwalker. I’m not familiar enough with these things to know if that’s common, but it was so sweet, I could send in my money and stay in bed! And I’ll get the t-shirt in the mail! That’s my kind of marathon. So no shaming from me.
I feel partly responsible for the whole marathon thing, but you did much, much better than I did. I think it’s absolutely admirable how you did. I never even really started. However, I am at least exercising again, and will also pay the fee to transfer my registration to next year. What happens to a dream deferred? Well you never know. Hopefully we’ll see each other there next year.
Also, having suffered plantar facitis during my brief bartending career, I can vouch fo the fact that this is almost impossible to fight through if you’re running. Get a night splint, keep in shape on an ellipitcal machine and try again next summer.
You should be proud of yourself. Considering that the first guy who ever ran a marathon in ancient Greece effing DIED, it’s good you readjusted your goals. So no shame from me, and I doubt anyone else.
And holy crap those eggs look good.
Ack! You were my excuse for not running the whole thing! Now do I have to keep up with Brooke?! That’s not going to happen.
WHHAAAATTTTT????? No more Team Spite??! But but but…this is the reason I signed up for MCM AGAIN. For the 3rd summer in a row!!
Ok we are still 4-2 Support vs Shame. I am looking good! Lauren, Diana, I know, I KNOW. No one feels more mad than me about it.