It happens to me after every race. Three marathons are now behind me...now what? My knee no longer hurts, but I have no motivation to run. Zero. I've got a bad case of the post-marathon blues.
Maybe posting some pictures from Chicago will help. :)
Me being artistic in the park. [don't ask why we had luggage with us. hehe]
Another fun shot.
Matt took this one. Not sure where it is.
Why don't you take me to...Chinatown?!
Mile 21. I'm a little embarrassed to post this pic of me, but here it is. By this point in the race, I had hobbled from mile 13 to 21. My right was killing me, it was too hot, I basically felt terrible. I did, however, manage to smile AND to pose. All of that sorority party pic posing really paid off, didn't it? haha
"I trained in hot-as-hell Oklahoma, b*tches! This hot weather doesn't bother me." [Uh, don't know why I'm the only happy one here.]
Matt was mistaken about which pace group I belonged to. Hint: it wasn't this one!
I leave you with no ending picture of the finish line. I did manage to hop my way to the finish -- however, things didn't end the way I had anticipated. Here's a six word memoir account of my finish:
Asshole closed toilet lid in porta-potty.
That pretty much explains it, huh? haha
