But First - Recovery

There are certain things that one should not be required to do in the week after a marathon.

Beautiful location for a marathon

Seriously, nothing works like it normally does. Legs, body or brain. Everything is either sore or tired. Starting from the bottom up - feet hurt, two toes and toenails on the right foot (pretty sure they're courtesy of the idiot who almost wiped me out at a water stop darting in front of me), tight calves, twingey knee, super-tight hamstrings, achey hips, lower abs and stiff shoulders.

Then there's the brain. Yesterday I spent the day walking back upstairs to get the thing I'd forgotten to take down only to get distracted on the way up and forget again. Just what you want to do when all your muscles are tired. Another of my friends reported trying to spread butter on his toast with a spoon. Better than a fork I reckon.

But every day I'm feeling a little less tired and less sore. I can now sit down and get up without making very audible groans - which is good

because, apparently, it's not socially acceptable to make those kinds of noises in public toilets. Especially on school holidays when there's lots of kids around who think that noises of pain emanating from the toilet are hysterically funny. Hey cool mean girl, you run a marathon and I'll stand outside your cubicle and laugh at you next time.

There's been lots of these on the menu

This week's been all about recovery so far. Stretching. Rolling. Eating good quality food (when I haven't felt nauseated because I've felt nauseated a lot for the first couple of days). Drinking heaps of water. And electrolytes. A visit to the physio to release the muscle that was causing the ITB knee pain. Sleeping. Napping. Complaining about how tired I am so someone else will wash up the dinner dishes.
And I'm making plans. Working out a way that my body holds together a little better for my next marathon in October.

I had a chat with my eldest son on Monday night to pick his brains. His brains have useful information in it when it comes to recovery and injury. I'm kind of grateful to the kid who almost broke his ankle back when he was a teenager and made him interested in physiotherapy as a profession. And I'm glad that he didn't get into it straight away and had to get a degree in exercise physiology first. All those years studying are now paying off for me.

He gave it to me straight. I'm weak. Soft! Especially in the centre. I'd like to blame it on having three bouncing baby boys but if I'm honest I've always been soft there. I totally need to harden up and hit the gym to get my muscle imbalances sorted.

So I've made an appointment at the place he used to work at to get an assessment and a program. And I'm going to work hard.

But not quite yet. Because recovery comes first.