Aftermath

Wow. That's all I have to say about the Marathon right now. Actually, that's not quite right. Let me modify that by taking off the first "w." Ow. That's about what I was feeling after crossing the finish line. Also a few miles before that. Try ten. the last mile was kind of numb. And I sprinted the last 50 feet. Then, when I got to the end, I thought, is it really over? I felt like I should ask somebody, just to make sure. But sure enough, other people were crossing over and stopping, too. So I just kept walking. And I walked straight to an open place on the curb and sat down. And then I did what my body really wanted to do, which was lay down, right there on the cobblestones. Did I care about the dirt and sand? No I did not. Who has time to think about these things when you've been running 26.2 miles? I was surprised, actually, that there weren't more people like me, gratefully taking the weight off their poor, overworked feet. And man, it felt good. A couple of people asked me if I was okay. I couldn't have felt better. I grinned. I put on my plastic blanket thingy, downed a bottle of water and some other liquid they were handing out. It wasn't beer. A bunch of people actually were handing out beer on the course. Somewhere in Golden Gate Park. They placed themselves right after the water station, dressed in Devil costumes, with a sign that said "beer." "You know you've been thinking about it!" A blond he-devil looked at me. "Nice try!" I said. He was wrong. I hadn't been thinking about it at all. In fact, until they turned up, I had completely forgotten that beer existed. And once I got past them I promptly forgot about it again. But I still thought it was funny. Only in San Francisco, I guess. So, back to the finish line. I did eventually get up off the sidewalk. Then I walked about 50 paces and sat down again. After some good sitting, and a little bit of child's pose, I got up and slowly hauled myself past the tables of more snacks and freebies from various companies trying to promote their stuff. Funny thing, but even after running that far without really eating, I somehow couldn't think about putting a lot of food in my stomach. I guess I had had too much water with electolytes. Or else I had forgotten how to chew. I ate something. I forget what it was. Then I had two bites of granola with yogurt. When I heard the girl say "free massage," I said, "Where?" She pointed to the big white tent. And that's about as far as my feet could get me.

After that, I was better, but it still hurt. I have never felt that much pain. But it was awesome. I wouldn't trade it for anything. It was quite difficult getting myself around for the rest of the day, though. I did not want to move. I did not want to locomote using the lower portion of my body. I was jealous of people in wheelchairs. Today was better, but I would have been quite happy walking with a cane. Stairs are a bit slower than usual. I felt like I should have been wearing a sign. "I ran the Marathon yesterday. Deal with it." But it really wasn't that bad. As long as I'm on level ground, I'm fine. And it comes and goes. I have to say the coffee helped. Or at least I think so.

But experiencing this makes me really glad that I don't have to deal with this level of pain every day. Because I know there are people who do. And let me tell you, those people deserve a medal just for being ALIVE.

My medal is staring back from the wall at me.
It says "San Francisco 2008."

I ran a Marathon.