I was hurting, but I did it.
Crossing the finish line at the 2013 Portland Marathon, I couldn't believe what I had just achieved. It was my first (and possibly last) marathon. Ever.
I finished six half marathons in the previous year, completing most a little outside the two-hour mark. Before that, a dozen and a half 5K and 10K races peppered my calendar throughout 16 or so months. It wasn't until I completed marathon training that I finally considered myself a runner. Not a race winner, by any stretch, but I was finally comfortable using the term runner in the same sentence as my name.
After each half marathon, I would say, "I'm never running a marathon." Well, never say never. In 2011, I was "never running a 5K," either.
I learned a lot during my marathon training. I learned sometimes you cry for no reason whatsoever when you're out on a long run, listening to your favorite pop tunes. I learned that you must always know where the next park restroom is located before you pass up the last. And I learned you can't eat whatever you want, even if you did go on an 18-mile training run earlier in the day. That sounds so insane to me now, running 18 miles.
As I got further and further into my training, I realized I was putting on a couple of pounds here and there. I figured it was OK. Running 40-plus miles a week, it's hard to keep track of calories in vs. calories out. I was focused on my running health and reaching mileage milestones much more than how I was refueling.
That is where the problems started. I probably gained 25 pounds during my training process, which is not uncommon for some people. But I didn't stop there. After the race, I returned to my pre-training schedule of a few miles here and there and some visits to the gym for strength training. What I didn't change was my "refueling" process.
Fast forward to now, nearly 40 pounds later. All of the work I had done in 2011 to melt off almost 80 pounds has been disappearing in front of my eyes. Or my mirror, rather. I didn't realize until I joined this DietBet that my excuses were standing in the way.
"I can't believe I just ran a marathon," I would say, huffing and puffing during a casual uphill walk.
Then it hit me. I didn't just run a marathon. I ran a marathon almost 10 months ago. I had been resting on my achievement.
So, here I am today, much heavier and much more out of shape (especially running shape) than I would have imagined just a year ago. There's no time to look back and focus on what went wrong. It's time to look ahead, find new goals and get myself back to a happy, healthy weight.
Next up: A nearly 5-mile road race this weekend. Let's hope I don't faceplant into a bowl of pasta after crossing the finish line.