This past weekend I "ran" my first marathon. I put ran in quotes because with my official finish time, I don't feel as if I was running very much. 5:31:45. An hour over my goal time of 4.5 hours. To say I am disappointed in myself is an understatement. I am almost ashamed of my results. I know to some that may sound like I'm looking for sympathy, or to others it may sound absurd. But, it's the truth. I set out to do something, and I feel as if I did not accomplish it. As if I've failed. So, below is my race report on the 2011 Philadelphia Marathon, in an effort to put it behind me and move on. Both of my boys wanted to go to the marathon. And I wanted both of them there. So, my wonderful friend Erin agreed to come along for the ride and keep an eye on them during the race. Saturday morning we packed up Ruby the Rav4 and headed out for the trip. We made it down there with very little difficulty, considering my limited city driving experience.
My journey, trying to be an Ironman, while dealing with anxiety, depression, body dysmorphia, self doubt, and life as a single mom with two grown sons, a crazy ass dog, and a handful of cats.