Last week, I wrote a post about the post-marathon blues. To be fair, I wasn't just suffering from post-marathon blues, but also from the post-friends-in-town blues and the return-to-normal-schedule blues. Things were rough, but I was doing everything I could to get over them. This meant biking, swimming, reading when I could, and looking forward to my next run- set for Saturday.
Well, Saturday I went out for my first post-marathon run and the last group run for this training team. At the end, I felt great. I was obviously still a bit fatigued from my marathon, but the run had gone well, and I'd had a good time. I felt connected with people again. Unfortunately, that feeling wore off within a few hours, and I was left more down than ever. So, I talked to one of my running buddies who I knew was planning to go out on Sunday, and we decided to meet up. Cue another 4.5-5 mile run.
I left that run feeling much more relaxed and calm, but I couldn't revel in that because I had to quickly shower and get to church. Hans was sick and was staying at home, so I asked him to please start the laundry in the washing machine and I ran out the door. I came home 2.5 hours later, and the laundry had just been started- meaning the clothes I wanted to wear were not only not dry, they weren't even clean.
I don't know why, but it was that one thing, that bit of dirty laundry, that made me lose it. I came home happy and relaxed (so I thought) and within ten minutes I was yelling at Hans about something as mundane as laundry. Everything I'd been feeling all week seemed to spew from me, and I even ended up locking myself in the bathroom and sobbing (overly dramatic, I know, but it felt right at the time).
Then, I stopped.
It wasn't that I wasn't mad anymore, I was, but I just didn't have it in me to keep yelling. I laid down on the bed and just hugged Cody (never underestimate the power of a dog in stress relief). I had to run something out to the kennel, so I went out there, and when I came home, I stayed quiet. I don't usually use the silent treatment, but I didn't have anything left to say. How much can you say over unwashed clothes anyway? Especially when said clothes were washed and dried by that point?
Eventually, Hans and I sat down and chatted. There was a lot more crying on my part, but things ended up quite nicely, and I wasn't mad anymore. Instead, I was exhausted...and hungry. Hans and I went and got something to eat, and then we came home and settled in for the night.
When I woke up Monday morning, something felt different. I went about my usual routine and felt pretty good. It wasn't until later that afternoon that I finally realized that I had ditched my funk. I still felt a little off, but I no longer felt overwhelmed or trapped. I was ready to jump back into work, and I could face whatever life dealt me.
I guess I just needed some sort of big emotional release, and unfortunately Hans received the brunt of that. Lucky for me, Hans is an extremely understanding individual, and he doesn't seem to think any less of me for it.
Today, I went running again. I went out at 5:30 a.m., just me and Cody, no running buddies. I took a similar route to one some friends and I ran during training, but this time it seemed different. I noticed the stars reflecting on a lake, I heard geese waking up for the morning, I listened to the sound of my feet hitting the pavement, and I simply enjoyed the time to myself with Cody as companion and guard.
Finally, I've ditched my funk, and I can keep looking ahead to what's next. This is far better than being stuck on replay of a single day!