Hardly believing it myself.
The night before I felt it could be the day when it’d happen. Maybe if I put everything in order before going to sleep and I set the alarm…
Waking up early Sunday morning I knew it was right. I put on my knee long Skins, a west, my water back pack and my now almost antic Asics. I started running. And I ran. And ran and ran. At 25k my hubby met up with fresh water and a long sleeve. I had really bad shaffing after wearing the west only and a long sleeve was a pure bliss. I ran thru sunshine and rain, fog and thinderstorm. I was out for over 8 hours… I meant to run 50 but took, as always, a wrong turn and ended up with an extra 4k. At 52 I turned off my Garmin and I walked the last 2 km home – with the biggest grin on my face. I cried and laughed and probably looked like a crazy lady in slow motion. A turtle would have left speed marks compared to me – but I don’t care. I did it.
Anyone who want it as badly as me could do it.
No shirt. No medal. Just pride and pain. Lots of pride. More pride than pain. All tho at work people were not supportive “Mark my words, running is bad for you”, no knees or limbs or whatever. I am healthy. I feel sane. I set a goal. I am fighting depression and a nightmare situation at work – but I did it.