Done With It
Disappointment with my marathon time notwithstanding, yesterday was my real finish line. And it felt pretty good.
I managed to think about virtually nothing from 11-12 as my unbelievably named Oasis Day Spa masseuse, Miles Golden, kneaded and pounded knots out of me. Somewhat surprisingly, the bulk of the damage is above my waist. Apparently, I carry stress in my shoulders and neck.
Afterwards, at just a few minutes past noon, we saddled up to the bar at Atlantic Grill. With the brilliant glare of fall sunshine pouring in the windows, we dined on oysters and beer, lobster salad, sushi, and champagne. We capped this decadent lunch with a visit to Crumbs for cupcakes and cookies. Divine.
After a long nap (punctuated by web surfing for a mid-winter vacation destination), we took in “Prime” (which was just ok), and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Mint Chocolate Cookie (which was, as always, excellent).
Back at work, now, I feel as though I’ve been away for a month. It’s difficult to adjust. And it’s difficult to talk with people about the race. I am reticent to discuss my disappointment, and reticent to spin my success. Everyone — including you, Dear Readers — has only kind words for me, which I appreciate. I wish I could focus on the success of just finishing. I wish I could relish in the accomplishment of bringing myself back to marathon shape in three short months (waking up all hung over and injured in the back of The Nadas bus in August, while fun, was definitely my physical low point).
But I can’t.
I want to heed Cameron Crowe’s advise (via Kirsten Dunst) to allow myself ten minutes to feel sorry for myself, then move on.
But I can’t.
I want to heed my buddy Ben’s excellent advice:
“Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could; some blunders and absurdities have crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.”
— Emerson
But I can’t.
And maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe that’s what keeps me aspiring to do more, and do better. Or maybe that’s what makes me just a little bit fucking nuts. Not sure. Lemme get back to you on that.
