I mean, the high from the marathon was so freakin amazing that I can’t help but feel a little sad. It’s like the last bite of a warm cookie. It was so delicious that you are sad there isn’t any more. It was tasty like a rare steak, that is the perfect size. You want more. Or, the last bite of Mom’s mac ‘n cheese. So good. But all eaten. (Hm. I must be hungry.)
Of course, I’m not saying there aren’t more freakin amazing races to come, but the build up for this one was like the build up for the movie Avatar. It kept having preview, after preview, and then – WHAMMY! Awesomeness. (By the way, I use this analogy very loosely, cause I have yet to watch Avatar but you get my point.)
So, here I sit after completely a nice, but not that satisfying 4 miler. (P-Funk, Strawberry E, and others – no offense, the company is , as always, fabulous.) But I feel a little unfulfilled. I need another training plan and another race. I am a junkie.
Post marathon depression is a for real real thing. The interwebs say so. Now, I’m not gonna mow down a gallon of ice cream and wash it down with red wine, but I am gonna be a little wistful as I gaze at my Gasparilla medal in all it’s 4:08 glory (yeah, totally had to add the time in).
Then again, as Jay-Z says….”On to the next one….”