Well, we did it!
A couple of weekends ago my husband and I managed to eke our way through the marathon. (I had signed up right at New Year’s. I finally signed up for my husband about three weeks before the race, since he had kept saying he would do it and then kept putting it off.)
I’m really happy I finally did it (having quit mid-training a couple of times before), but I’d been hoping for a slightly faster time. On one hand, it’s too bad I didn’t hit the goal (well, the one I had beyond at least finishing the marathon). On the other hand, aiming for a better time might be the only possible reason I would run another one …
It was terrible during the race, but both my husband and I recovered pretty quickly I think. Sure, for the day after, the thought of stairs horrified me. And sure, my husband actually worked from home for a day because he works on the second floor of a building without an elevator. But two days after we were both doing okay! So that’s something.
My husband, by the way, is a much faster runner than me, and has never run a marathon either, but he tempered his pace to suit mine — which anyone who has run long-distance probably recognizes is quite a feat. He took breaks when I wanted them and started running again when I said so, which is really difficult in such a long race that requires such individual pacing. He claims it wasn’t so bad because otherwise he would never have had the stamina to keep it up at his pace. That might be true, but doesn’t really off-set how hard it must have been to run at my pace. And my mom pointed out (twice…) that I’m really lucky to have a husband like that. And I agreed. Twice.