The other night I sat at dinner with a few runner friends.
Over a few glasses of wine, the topic turned to marathons, as it is wont to do with a group of runner friends.
There was a lot of talking about how difficult training is, how difficult marathons are, how they’d all gotten slower while marathon training. How they weren’t sure if they had another one in the cards.
I have no idea what my post-Marine Corps race plans look like, but I can tell you I don’t think this will be my last marathon.
I love waking up on a weekend morning with a huge mileage goal in mind.
I love when I get home, and I’ve achieved that goal.
I love that somehow my body defies the odds, and that I’ve gotten faster for each marathon that I’ve trained for.
While the waking up early took a lot to get used to, I love getting to work with a 9-mile run under my belt.
I love looking at my schedule as a giant puzzle and making sure that the marathon pieces are the next pieces to be laid after the work pieces.
I love the crazy emotions I feel crossing the finish line: pride and happiness for finishing, but a little sadness that it’s all over.
I love that I can do this. I never thought I’d be able to run a half-marathon, much less a marathon, much less be training for my third marathon.
Oh, and I love carbs. Obviously.
Marathons: love ’em or hate ’em?