In any endurance challenge there is risk. Heck, there's risk every time you get in your car. I am now an official member of Marathon Maniacs. With two marathons a mere two weeks apart, I can say with confidence that I was determined and focused and knew that I was going to do this because I wanted it enough.
Because I struggle with the concept of delayed gratification, I just HAD TO take the opportunity to become a MM member as soon as it was within my grasp. I didn't want to wait 'til the Fall or Spring and do this in a more rational way with 3 marathons in 90 days or something that is easier to wrap one's mind around. Nope not me... I had to take a chance and do my first two marathons only two weeks apart in June. After crossing the finish line at 5:09 (clock time- chip time isn't up yet) here's how I celebrated:
...and it gets better. My blood pressure was 74/40. The EMT said that most people aren't coherent when this low. So they coerce me into getting into the ambulance for an IV after I tell them that I feel like the ground is shaking even though I know it's not.
Once I get in there, they start the IV and hook me up to a heart monitor and note that my heart rate is 129 and holding steady. The EMT warns me that he has to call the hospital and that the doctor will most certainly insist that I be taken to the ER. He says he's going to let the IV infuse for a bit and see if my heart rate goes down. 30 minutes later, we're still in the mid/high 120's. What the hell? All the while I am chatting with the EMT and trying to explain to him why I run at all and why I did these two marathons in such a short span of time. It's rather challenging to explain this to someone who doesn't run at all and doesn't really see a difference between running 10 miles and running 26.2. He is either incredibly curious or in deep need for continuous conversation because he keeps asking questions. I still do not know which was the case. Since my heart won't slow down, he calls the doctor and I have to talk to him and decline medical treatment. Interestingly enough, mere seconds after we hang up the phone, my heart rate goes down to 84.
The IV bag is empty and we start discussing my release from this air conditioned metal box. We decide that as long as I feel ok when I stand up, that I can go. And I do.
I now understand why Marathon Maniacs also call themselves "The Insane Asylum". It doesn't mean we're ax murderer kind of crazy, it means we'll do something really risky and abnormal kind of crazy. My first and second marathons only two weeks apart. I'm insane. But elated. Now I need to choose my first ultra.