Once I was past bag check and had gotten to an open piece of asphalt I sat down for a second after the marathon. My medals were around my neck, I had taken off my visor and ears and it took me about 5 minutes to get my body down onto the ground. When I finally did, all I could do was start sobbing. Uncontrollable ugly crying.
The man sitting next to me was totally unsure of what to do with this situation and asked if he should go get a medical person. I assured him I was ok and my sister was coming over to meet me so not to worry.
I couldn’t stop myself. It was like bizarre convulsions that were simply beyond my control. I did the same thing after the first Dopey Challenge, this uncontrollable just… wave of something. The exhaustion from the early mornings, the miles, the nerves, the anxiety… After I got my medals and sat down, I guess the uncontrollable sobbing was just my way of expelling all of it. A cleansing of sorts, if you will. I never know I’m going to make it until the minute I cross the finish line.
A lot of people are former college or high school athletes. Sports were always a part of their lives. For me, each marathon weekend (which is my actual runniversary) is like a revelation. A “holy shit I just did that” moment more so than any other anything. I still kinda can’t believe I could do it, that I was able to accomplish that for the third time. It still boggles my mind a lot.
But it’s done, and I finished, and a big part of me still can’t believe I’ve now done this 3 years in a row.
For the sake of my sanity, though, Kellie’s going to need to run with me next year.