Day two of Reverb Broads and todays prompt is another with oh, so very many options to choose from:
What is the stupidest thing you’ve done this year? How about in your whole life?
Seriously. Pull up a chair.
I’m not sure about my whole life. I’m 42 years old and have (hopefully) decades left to achieve something stunningly breathtaking in it’s stupidity. Practice makes perfect and all that. But as for this year? That’s easy. The one moment this whole year that I wish I could alter due to the utter dumb-assedness of me is the 48 hours during and immediately after this year’s marathon.
This year should have been great. It should have been chalked up on the side of victory and success and awesomeness, but noooooooo. Four years ago, at my first marathon we had so much fun, Hubby and I. I felt great. Well, no. From miles 11 through 16 I looked so rough that Hubby spent the entire time trying to talk me into quitting, before the scooter riding medics needed to be called. Ha on him! I got a second wind and thoroughly enjoyed the second half. I ran through the sprinklers at mile 18 (bad idea) and enjoyed a celebratory glass of champagne at mile 20 (excellent idea.) Even our finishing time was awesome– 5:59:58. A mere two seconds under the wire. The sweeps bus was literally right behind us, a fact I found hilarious.
This year, I was miles ahead of the sweeps bus and cut oodles off my time. But instead of celebrating at mile 20, I was actively crying because, never mind the fact that I was running a marathon, to my mind I wasn’t running it quickly enough.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I took the next day off of work and spent it draped across my bed, crying hot, angry tears into my pillow until my craziness become apparent even to me. Six months of training -SIX- down the tubes. Not because I didn’t hit my goal, but because I was too damn stupid to appreciate what I’d done.
Being the Virgo and first child that I am, I love shiny new starts and second chances, so I’m going to run the marathon again next year. Don’t roll your eyes at me! It’s going to be totally different. For one, I’m running this purely as support for an old friend. It’ll be his first marathon so this is 100% not about me. I’m just there to offer 26.2 miles of encouragement.
If you look closely, you can see the halo.
Some of you who know me, might suggest that my more temperate and reasonable attitude has less to do with personal growth and more with the reality of my knee, which, two months after the fact, still sounds like dice in a yatzee cup as I go about my day. You are totally wrong. To my way of thinking, if NOT running doesn’t help it, my running another marathon won’t hurt it.
Personal growth and denial. Whatever gets me across the finish line.