Joe and I did the “Marathon Shuffle” for three days post race, literally limping our way through the streets of Paris. We felt every mile we’d run in muscles we didn’t know we had but considered our sorry gait as a badge of honor, nonetheless. Going up stairs was tolerable but coming down was agonizing. I had to grasp railings for dear life wherever I could find them as I tried to take as much weight as possible off my tender thighs screaming in pain. What were we thinking when we headed up the steep incline to Montmartre (with the attendant steep descent) the day after the race? But the kids really wanted to visit and so we soldiered on. While I was prepared for some serious post-marathon aches, I wasn’t quite ready for them to last for so long or for the onset of the inevitable lowered immune system cold that followed a couple days later.
As my Parisian hobble continued, I tried to keep in mind what my dear friend Cathy emailed me right after the race. She suggested that from now on I always refer to ANY injury, even if not the result of running as a marathon war wound. “Yes, that’s my tricky knee -- I injured it running the Paris Marathon,” or “Oh, that sore shoulder – ever since I ran the marathon in Paris it’s never been the same.”
Three days after the marathon, the four of us flew out of Charles de Gaulle headed for Greece. We needed a good, long rest and couldn’t imagine a better place to recuperate than the whitewashed Greek Islands. Lying on a beach eating Greek salads and saganaki in the sun is our simple plan for recovery. Mykonos, we are yours.
Pictures of our adventures: http://gapyeargirlgoestoeurope.shutterfly.com