26.2

I completed my first marathon on Sunday and I have openly admitted to people that I am disappointed with how everything happened. Originally when I signed up for Rock N Roll San Diego back in July 2016, the person I was supposed to do it with was in shape and was continuing to train for the event. She stopped training something like a month later and on Sunday I got stuck with the consequences of someone who had no idea what they were doing and had absolutely zero understanding of what she had gotten herself into.

It was honestly a terrible experience and I am so disappointed with the fact that I had to walk almost 26.2 miles because someone else made bad decisions. And it wasn't like I could have left. She never would have made it and we would have had to wait the entire time for her to get the sag wagon back to the finish line anyway. So instead of leaving her and doing something that was beneficial for me both mentally and physically (all the walking caused me to have hamstring injuries), I walked for SEVEN HOURS with someone who whined and literally whimpered over the last six to seven miles.

Flat out, it sucked. It fucking sucked. I could have gotten in at least an hour faster if I had been solo. I would have had more fun. I would have been so much more positive because I was prepared mentally for what was in store. Miles 21-23 were up a brutal hill, but Miles 23-25 were downhill. We walked the entire downhill. She complained the entire time. It finally got to the point where I just stopped listening to the bullshit and cranked my music up.

I knew that her feet hurt. My feet hurt, too. I knew that her back hurt. She wouldn't shut up about it. I knew that she was tired. I was tired of walking so slowly through the course. And I was bored. You didn't hear me complain, though. No, I was the peppy motivator despite having blood blisters on my feet and despite having pull hamstring muscles. (To be precise, the MD that helped me at a medical tent said that my hamstrings would pull away from the bone if I continued moving the way I was. It was from the walking.) I didn't complain about all of the chafing that I was feeling, either. My arms and chest got rubbed pretty good, but my neck took the brunt of it. We leave for the Bahamas on Thursday and a huge portion of my neck is now trying to get infected. Not cute and not good.

The thing that is bothering me the most about this entire situation, though, is that I don't feel like I accomplished anything by walking. I don't feel like I should be proud of anything that I did on Sunday except for the fact that I didn't kill anyone out of frustration. I already threw my medal into my "medal box" of race mementos that I'll never look at again. It means nothing to me. Wearing my finisher jacket doesn't feel special.

And to be honest and not just be a negative Nelly, there were times during the race that I had some fun. Races for me are generally fun. The bands were spot-on and they were playing songs that I absolutely loved. And I had great music on my iPod, too, so in places where bands weren't playing I was totally rocking out. The weather couldn't have been more perfect and I am extremely grateful for that since we were on the course for so long. My mom cheered us on at the finish. That part was magical. And best of all was the chocolate milk at the end. Lots and lots of chocolate milk.

In September I will officially decide if I plan on redeeming my marathon race. I've heard amazing things about the LA Marathon, so I'd likely do it there in March 2018. And honestly, I think that I'm going to do it. Participating in a full was not that bad in terms of the miles. I can definitely do it again. It's just a matter of the venue. I don't think Rock N Roll is the best race for me, but LAM is considered one of the best in the country. I'm willing to try it. (And my mom is considering going for a full now, too!)