This can be described the same as the race: long, slow, and uncomfortable.
And here's a news flash: Spending 3+ hours slogging through 13.1 miles on foot is actually not the recommended treatment for Shingles. Who knew?!?
I'm still really glad that I didn't bail out on the race, though. I'm extremely proud of myself for getting through it and I'm looking forward to more events in the future. Alan and I are already congratulating ourselves for setting our own personal bars so low that next year should be an easy PR! I, in particular, will be looking to redeem the overall experience. We have a 5k planned for our upcoming anniversary weekend, and Emilie's Race for Pie to look forward to, and we're also looking at other races we might want to do in the spring (Big Lake Half Marathon, perhaps....?). So, while I cried at the chiropractor's office, and I haven't been back to work yet because I'm still eating ibuprofen and having trouble sitting for long periods of time, and still can barely type two consecutive sentences over the course of a half hour, and somehow took 20 minutes to drive home from Rite Aid in Old Town yesterday, I did not kill my desire to run. Which is saying a lot.
The race was not fun, but I love my medal and my awesome tech tee, which, by the way, can only be described as "anti-viral blue" for the horse pills I've been knocking back 3 times a day for two weeks now. Isn't it pretty? I have to go wash it now so I can wear it (and my medal) when I go back to work tomorrow.
Strange letters from my father
1 day ago