Meg and I are still in a complete fog. Marathons are harder than labour. Yes, I’m actually making that declaration. We both feel spent, and look like pieces of garbage. I had a facetime call today, I think the people on the other end were frightened. I told them I did not have a mask on-it’s just my post marathon face. I cried, yelled, cursed, walked, limped, shook, froze my ass off only to be totally pissed at the end of it all.
Oprah beat me! So did Alanis Morrisette. A couple of friends have been kind enough to send me pictures of Oprah with kinds words like: “she kicked your ass”.
This message was from Wizzy:
Another “friend” sent me this text:
The most distressing part is wrapping my brain around doing another marathon. I failed so miserably this first go. My goal was not to just check it off my bucket list, I wanted to do it in under four hours.
My next marathon has to be somewhere warm. I told Dylan I was doing Honolulu. Fuck the cold. Did I mention how windy it was?
Here’s my finish, what a knob:
Meg was in a world of hurt as well :
My favorite part is when everyone was asking where I was. I made those girls wait a long time. Sorry girls, I was hobbling to the finish line.
I didn’t drink for a whole 8 days-I think that’s what angered me the most. Well, that and the ghetto sweatshirt I found on the road and put on, it was disgusting, but I was desperately cold.