These were not the feelings that I expected one week after my first marathon.

I thought that I’d feel like a king for a lot longer.

I thought that I’d be able to maintain a zen-like calm in the presence of frustration.

I thought that no challenge would seem to great.

I thought that I’d feel differently about myself.

I thought that I’d be treated differently.

During a five-mile run this weekend I realized that I’m still just Dave.

I thought that would bother me.

I thought I should have felt like so much more.

Marathon planning has consumed me for over a year. I was in awe of people who finished one. I’d go out on a 7 mile run and wonder how anyone could make it 26.2. The people who run 26.2 must have some super-human ability that I lacked.

Now that I’m one of those people, I realize that I’m not super-human. I’m just me. I put my mind and body into something and I accomplished it, but it didn’t make me any better or worse than I was a month ago.

I still take out the garbage. I still get frustrated when there’s a mess in the house. I still think Michelle leaves the thermostat up too high. I still have bad runs. I still have bad skin and my breath still stinks in the morning.

And I am perfectly OK with that.

… time to go turn up the thermostat. Michelle’s getting up soon and she’ll complain if it’s too cold down here.