Post-marathon

Oh heck, this’ll have to do for now.

So, how am I faring, post-marathon? Well, still wearing one of the three London Marathon t-shirts every day. Yesterday, I finally took the medal out of my bag (so that I could whip it out at every possible opportunity) and hung it in my room so it wouldn’t get messed up. Went for my first post-marathon run yesterday with Kristina at the park. Did two loops, ran approximately one, walked one. Felt good. I’m very pleased to report that I have no lingering injuries or aches (or even blisters!) from the marathon.

Now what? I never did just use my blog for marathon stuff only, did I? And now that I have no marathon to train for, this will probably be more about my day-to-day life. Just warning anyone who is reading this. But I do need to figure out what I’m going to do next. I’d love to run more 10Ks. But there just aren’t any in the area until possibly the fall. I don’t know, I need to do more research. So I guess I’ll stick to 5Ks for now. But my real goal is just to get in overall shape. Of course I’ll keep running. But I’m going to join a gym (and soon) and hopefully, by the end of the summer, lose about 30 or 40 lbs, get my upper body into shape, so that when the fall rolls around, and the longer races start up, I’ll be ready to go fast.

I’ve been thinking lately about summer in New Orleans. Well, I hate New Orleans, I hate the South, I hate heat, I hate roaches. I hate humidity. I really, really don’t want to spend another summer here. I really, really hope this is my last one. Hmmm. I suppose it’s one of those things that I have to make happen, though. I can’t just sit around and hope that I will somehow move away from New Orleans in the next year. So that’s my other goal. Get out of here! Of course I want to move to England. But after battling some huge 3-4″ cockroaches the other night (they won, I ran away) the point has been driven home. I gotta get out! My summers are spent living in fear of roaches. Okay, I’m a wuss. But we all have fears, and roaches are at the top of mine. (#2 – razorblades and other sharp objects. #3 – falling. this is why i don’t ski or ride bikes or rollerskate, especially downhill.) Unfortunately, yesterday evening was just lovely, which makes it slightly difficult to stick to my resolve. Mind you, only very slightly difficult. London was far more gorgeous, every time I’ve been, even during a visit I made in October of 2000, when it rained the whole time. Never mind. Rain can be nice.

This morning I had to go to the dentist. I was made to understand that this visit was kind of a preliminary bridgework visit. They’d look at my teeth again, make an impression or something for the bridge I have to get. But then, after I sat down in the chair, the hygenist came after me with a swab full of numbing agent, and I freaked out. Four hours later, in pain and drooling blood, I got to leave. Without one of the teeth and a crown I went in with. Yeesh. I feel violated. At least I got some good painkillers out of it. On which I’m writing this blog. Ha ha!

So let me recount my weekend. Friday night, Kristina and I went to celebrate my marathon victory. (Over the 500 or so people behind me, never mind the 35,000 in front of me.) When I got home from work, I made myself a nice, icy Martini. Then we had a nice dinner at our favorite Mexican restaurant. (and a margarita.) Then a beer at our neighborhood bar (where I got heaps of “congratulations” and “wow”s from the bar staff and friends. That was nice.) After that, we went across the river to my favorite bar in New Orleans (and a rare treat since we take the ferry over, so it’s kind of a pain to get there), the Crown & Anchor, an authentic British pub. Had some pints there and met my male alter ego, George. Eerie, it was. I’ve never met someone who is as big of an Anglophile as I am. It was really cool to talk to him.

Okay, now I need to stop. I am now feeling the effects of the Vicodin. Woooozy!