This old Ironman has met his nemesis of the marathon kind and its name is Boston. Never shall I say I don't respect the distance or the hills of this famed course. However, it's clear them thar hills don't respect me and for the second year in a row they handed me a Continental Army sized butt whipping.
But, more on that in a later post.
The short of it is I finished the race and set a personal record but, at a price. My barely healed and pre-race achy knees are now wrapped in ice compresses along with my right ankle. I paid a visit to the medical tent for an IV, serum sodium test, and massage. The doctor released me after warning me to increase my salt intake for the night.
Thank you to all that followed me online today. Also, a special shout-out to fellow tri-blogger Six Two Three Tries for greeting me on the course with a smile, a hug, and a hand written sign. You rock girlie!
Again, more in a later post.
For now, I'm going to get cleaned up and enjoy dinner, a glass of wine, and a desert the size of my head.