Post Marathonic Stress Disorder - WARNING! - Somewhat gross. (Especially the pictures.)

I believe that I have acquired a new and disturbing illness. The symptoms include aching muscles, pure exhaustion, sleepiness and an extreme case of the munchies.  

My legs are sore, particularly my thighs.

My buttock cheeks are screaming "ouch!" into the cool September sky.  

Most irksome and painful is my chafed upper thighs.  During the run, I was not bothered by them.  However, and just a warning - this is going to be disgusting, when I pulled off my shorts I noticed a small blood stain had soaked the crotch area.  Worried that I might have injured some of my most valuable assets, I glanced down to see a single drop of blood making it's way down my thigh.  I had chafed (Thank you Eric for helping me learn to spell that word correctly.) so badly that I had opened a pore or two and began to bleed on the insides of my upper thighs.   It was indeed the worst biproduct of my horrible disease.  Fortunately, my valuable assets were intact.  

Since the run I have had a constant urge to eat.  We celebrated yesterday by gorging on all the meat we could eat at the Rodizzio Grill.  I go there often to celebrate large accomplishments.  Nothing says, "I am awesome" like 3.7 ounces of red meat in my belly.  Unfortunately, eating this much meat two hours after running 26.3 miles is a little bit like feeding 5 pounds of jello to a cock fighting rooster ten minutes after a serious bout in which the rooster has been nearly torn to shreds.  The jello is just not going to sit well in that rooster's belly.  Furthermore, I believe that one of the dishes they offered us was in fact bacon wrapped rooster, which just made this entire analogy come full circle.  Sometimes I am amazed at my genius circular logic.  

While I am speaking about the meat palace that is the Rodizzio Grill, allow me to mention the time we went there to celebrate my birthday.  During this time, I had a blisteringly painful toothache that was in dire need of attention.  Unfortunately, my birthday was celebrated on a Saturday and believe it or not, dentists don't usually work on Saturdays.  With ever bite of Brazilian Beef or Prime Rib, I would cringe as a shocking pain would run through my molar and down my arm.  Despite my agony, I pressed on. I would not be denied of my meat! I had an entire bottle of OraGell, which I would apply every 3 minutes or so, or between every meat choice; whatever came first.  It would numb my gums sufficiently so I could gnaw the meat just enough to slide down my gullet.  It was a long and tedious meal, but I left that day with pig grease pouring from my skin and a breadbasket full of red animal flesh making a home for itself inside my intestines.  

Needless to say, I did some extra major damage to that tooth and we made an emergency call to our dentist.  He was kind enough to meet me at his office on a Sunday and drain the large amount of puss that had collected in my gum.  Ah, such fond memories - and I warned you in the title it would be gross!  

After my marathon meal as we traveled along 7th east my belly quivered and my eyelids drooped.  Exhaustion was setting in.  I slept for a couple hours, woke up and ate some more and then slept again.  I am not sure how my body is recovering from this trauma, but it is telling me that it needs food, and a lot of it.  I should have planned my Rodizzio trip for today.  

I am doing well enough now.  Just a little sore and tired, but I expected that would happen.  

The moral of this story?  It turns out there are several: Never visit an all you can eat, magical meat emporium 2 hour after completing a marathon or with a major toothache.  Oh yeah, and the word "chafing" is spelled with only one F.  The word "chaffing" is a word.  The A is apparently short.  Chaffing means to make fun of someone or something in a good natured way.  So, you may proceed in chaffing me for my chafing problem.   Finally, when running long distances in the rain, never wear a thin, white shirt.  You will see why below...

I leave you with pictures of my heroic return from marathoning, one of which I am doing 5 of my final miles on the treadmill.  (I definitely would have won any male wet t-shirt contest!)