Slow Victory

7 hours, 13 minutes.

That’s how long it took me to finish the marathon. But I *finished.*

I’m still processing. It’s why you got no post on Monday and only are getting this one now. I only just ordered my photos from MarathonFoto and as soon as I get them, I will scan and upload the two I chose, one of me running and one of me holding up my medal at the finish line.

Until then, I share this one with you, because after everything, it was the only place I wanted my medal to be. Laid at the feet of Nike Athena in profound gratitude.

Labor was still harder than running the marathon. For one, the marathon was over sooner, even at plus seven hours. But that’s about all I can write about it yet.

Like standing at the bottom of my first firewalk and realizing I’d gotten across unburned, here at the end of my first marathon, I am not the same person I was at the beginning of the marathon, anymore than I am the same person that stood at the head of that first fire.

And like that first taste of fire, I have to do this again.

It was fucking hard.

It was also fucking incredible.

I made it.

Originally published at Angela N. Hunt. You can comment here or there.