Many runners go through this PMS after a marathon; a Post Marathon Syndrome.
After months and weeks of training, after all the excitement and the cheers I’ve experienced before the marathon come the time to show off the medal. This feels great but it last for about a week. I felt like I was 6 inches taller. But then, come the PMS, I lose focus on the next running event which is one week away. I don’t mind, it’s only a 10k race. It will be fine but I have yet to go back out and run again, I haven’t run in 3 weeks (or have I, I am not even sure). I also have a 50k cycling event that I really must focus on. I need to be ready for that. Add to all this the fatigue and lack of sleep, the things that must be done around the house and with the family; I feel lost. I know it will pass but still, it’s a hard time.
It’s been three weeks and I only feel drained. This is a bummer since I really should point out how outstanding the Boston Marathon experience was. I’ve went through the worst training period I could have imagined, even a few days before the race, I’ve had to visit the ER because I was having an allergy spike. The night before the event, Jacob cried a lot and I felt bad for not helping my girlfriend with it. Nonetheless, it was my fastest yet and it made me grow inside.
I was running faster than what I planned, I fought the urge to walk all along the second half. There was a battle in my head, that I was ahead enough, I could walk and rest a bit, but my mind said no fuckin’ way, keep running. I crossed the finish line almost 30 minutes before what I had planned. I was ecstatic. When I got to the Hospitality area for the Abbott group, I was received with applauds and cheers. It felt great.
Along the course, I’ve cried. Maybe the tears didn’t roll on my cheeks but there was a moment when I taught about my dad who passed away 16 years ago. I caught myself wondering if he is proud of me now. This doesn’t make any sense since I don’t believe there is anything after we die. Anyhow, I realized that I am not sure if he was ever proud of me. When he died, I was 25, my girlfriend was pregnant, I was working for a small salary in a programming company that was going nowhere. No big achievement, still going out and drinking too much, not saving any money for hard times, living pay-check to pay-check. Nothing really good to build on. So I realized that I missed the opportunity, too late, it’s gone. I’ve also realized that it was pointless for me to wish for such approbation. I started thinking about my daughter, and how proud I am that she is growing up fairly well. Then, it stroked me, I should be working toward making her proud of her dad, like I was of mine. My dad was probably happy with how I was slowly turning and he’d be happy to see me today.
A few days later, while I was waiting for my daughter at a water-polo game, I wrote a few guidelines that are meaningful to me.
- Make sure that what you do makes you proud of yourself
- Make sure that the ones who rely on you can trust you and are proud of you
- Do something that creates a legacy for the future
Is there a plan for all this, not yet, but I’ll figure one out.