5.5 in Southie with Caitlin

Ah hah!

Today marks the day that I finally hit 26.2 miles--total. In the 15 days since the marathon.

It's REALLY hard to believe that the marathon actually happened. On Wednesdays's run with Caitlin, though, I realize it wasn't just me. She told me she hadn't felt very strong running since the marathon. (Check.) She told me her legs felt tired and heavy. (Check. Check.)

We agreed that though we'd heard from so many people that recovering from a marathon took time, and we'd been surprised at how quickly we were both able to get back on the road. It was only on Tuesday, I think, that we both considered the term "recovery." Maybe it's not recovery in the sense of recovering to just run--maybe it's that even though we're able to run, we're not running as strong yet.

Which, frankly, is ok. Wednesday was a slow 5.5 miles in Southie, past water shining with the summer sun--something I missed on the dark winter nights of training. Monday was a bit faster, solo 4 miles around the Charles, where I marveled at the number of runners coming out of the woodwork. The previous Saturday a lovely 4-mile run at Ponkapoag, the Thursday before that, a blistering 4 miles on the river, sandwiched between a slow mile or so on either end.

For now, I am remembering the pleasure of running. The slow, languorous enjoyment of just running. I walk when I went I want to walk. I lengthen my stride and speed up when the mood strikes. No worries of distance, of being too tired or too energetic for the next run. Just running, by myself, with friends, with my beloved. On streets, sidewalks, dirt paths.

Soon, of course, I'll sign up for a short and blistering race, and get myself back into some semblance of training, but for now, ah... the bliss of easy, casual miles.

Because pretty soon, I'll have "recovered," and then--well. Then it's time to run again.