It’s almost a week ago, and my legs are still a little bit sore. Not nearly as much as they were, but I can still feel they’re tired.

Last Sunday I took part in Cork Marathon.

I only did the half marathon, but it’s still the longest race I’ve been a part of – ever. I’m a little bit proud. I still feel like I could, or ought to, have done better, but if I’m to be honest I was spent when I crossed the finishing line.

It’s not realistic of me to think I could have done better than I did considering how exhausted I was towards the end. The last two kilometers went purely on will power. The brass band playing at the last bend before the end perked me up a bit and pushed my strides a little longer, but that took the last ounces of energy I had.

The walk home was slow and dull. It’s a good thing I live only a few hundred meters from where the race ended or I’m not sure how I would get home. I got there though. I did my stretching, showered, ate, and then slept for two hours.

The rest of the day I didn’t do much at all.

It was tough, and the last quarter was really boring with all the flat straight roads, but knowing me I’ll do it again next year anyway.