and then life just kind of keeps going...

The funniest thing about the Day After Little P's Big Marathon was that it was very Monday-ish. Sunday was such an amazing, self-defining, liberating, mind-blowing day, and then…

I got up Monday morning, hobbled around a bit, and went to work. A few people knew about the marathon and congratulated me. But then I had two meetings, including a phone conference, wherein I felt stupid. I fixed a mistake I made, making two more mistakes in the process. I fixed those. Apologized. Fielded irritable phone calls and emails (inspired by my mistakes). Felt bloodeebloodeebloo. Took myself to Palmer's Deli for lunch. Got cursed at in the parking lot by a man in an SUV who was trying to back up while I was trying to forward in. And felt generally confused and space cadet-y the rest of the day.

A thousand times I wanted to say, "Hey! But… But… I ran a marathon yesterday! I ran a marathon! Aren't you going to cheer for me and offer me jelly beans? I'm 628! I'm 628! Don't you recognize me?!"

Maybe I should have worn my medal. And my race bib.

But I guess this is the way of things: Life just kind of keeps going. Victory, defeat, grief, elation, whatever… Days open and close at regular 24 hour intervals, and you don't really have a choice but to jump back in the stream and flow again. I actually felt kind of sad yesterday. Maybe that seems ridiculous, but it's true. Yesterday I felt very blue.

Before the marathon, I ran the Dam to Dam 20K at the end of May. I started training for that in March. I've recorded my training schedule in my planner--penciled in the miles, highlighted and checked them off when complete, made notes about how it went. So, since March my weeks are filled with these notes.  Then, October 17 it said MARATHON in red pen! After that…. blank.

I was looking forward to training being over, being able to just work out however my body feels like working out. I was looking forward to letting go of the constant preoccupation with what I was eating and drinking, how late I was staying up the night before a run. I was looking forward to picking up with my weight training (I really like muscles. I do.). But now, here I am, and… eh.

March to October is a long time to be so constantly (CONSTANTLY) focused on one task. Now the task is over, and I feel a little lost.

Sunday, after the race, I felt scattered, like I couldn't focus very well on conversations. I felt that way yesterday, too. But I just chalked it up to fatigue. I wonder if it's actually because the task is complete and my brain is trying to retrain itself, find another focal point. Hm. And, I don't mean to be whiney. I'm just examining this strange emotion that I hadn't expected to feel. That's all.

Humans. We are strange machinery. We are.