I’ve been running the last couple of days. So no days off since the marathon. Nothing huge or particularly fast. But running all the same. They’re called recovery runs for how they help with the body. But in my case the recovery has been every bit as psychological as it has been physical.
That I was, and still am disappointed with my race isn’t news. It’s “olds”, if such a word can be minted for the occasion. Also “olds”, if you will, is how much I really love to run. I have been running these last couple of days not because of some egoistic urge or maniacal drive for that elusive PB, but simply because it really does my soul good.
This morning I took my finisher’s medal out of my nap-sack. It was the first time I looked at it since hastily packing it away immediately after the last race picture was taken. What I’ve come to realize is that this medal doesn’t necessarily symbolize the loss of a PB unless I choose for it to be so. Rather it symbolizes as well as summarizes who I am in general. Who we all are as athletes and as people. How much we have each overcome to be precisely where we are at this moment in time.
There will be other races for me and other opportunities for us all.
Today is when we start to build toward them.