You know that feeling when you’ve been writing a blog about running for almost a year in anticipation of your inaugural marathon and then after running that marathon can no longer think of anything interesting to write about and consider just posting photos of your brother’s goldendoodle on the internet instead?
No, you don’t know that feeling? Uh, me either. Moving on then.
As many of you may be aware, 10 days ago, I ran my very first marathon. It was emotional, it was invigorating and – apparently – it was proof that I don’t keep my eyes on the road.
As much as I rocked the race itself – coming in a respectable 3,198th place (no, you don’t get a podium slot for that) – I rocked recovery even more. For the first week after the race, I followed Hal Higdon’s “Zero Week” training plan like it was my job. That is, assuming my job is to sit immobile in a chair for 14 hours straight stuffing my face, which – oh yeah – it kind of is. Find an abbreviated version of his recovery recommendations below:
Monday: No running today! No exercise of any kind! Take it easy. (If you insist.)
Tuesday: No running! (I might have fought this, but – hey look! – a hurricane. Guess I’ll stay indoors.)
Wednesday: No running! And don’t substitute cross-training in a mistaken belief that it will help you maintain fitness. … You earned this period of rest. Take it! (Fine. But I’m taking a walk around the block and you can’t stop me.)
Thursday: Okay, you’re cleared to run again, but don’t overdo it. (I didn’t.) Two miles of gentle jogging … sounds about right for Zero Week. (It was.)
Friday: Now is the time to cross-train. The best cross-training discipline for a recovering marathoner is simple walking. I recommend bringing your neighborhood goldendoodle along for the ride. (Wise words, Coach.)
The week after the Marine Corps Marathon, I did exactly what I was told: I relaxed, I re-hydrated, I re-fueled, but now, I’m re-al bored.
I know I knew life before marathon training, but life after it suddenly seems downright dull. Plus my blogging ideas are suddenly flowing slower than a Manhattan-bound L train. Oh. Too soon?
So, dear readers, help me out here. Assuming I don’t run right out and register for another marathon (odds are 60/40, but I’m not a betting man), what should I start doing to pass the time and maintain this new caliber of fitness I’ve achieved? Swimming? Yoga? Competitive eating? (The latter is something I could totally get behind. 26.2 chicken wings? Count me in.)