Miles: 1482.0 | An early alarm and marathon ambitions give way to exhaustion as my body refuses to cooperate—racing heart, heavy legs, stomach pain, and mounting anxiety. A delayed start means letting go of the big-mile goal, and hiking becomes an exercise in patience rather than grit. A call home confirms what I’m feeling: overtraining, dehydration, and stress catching up all at once. I move slowly, take frequent breaks, and manage 12 hard-earned miles, learning (reluctantly) that sometimes progress means honoring limits instead of pushing through them.
I woke up to my alarm at 5. The pressure was on. I woke Miles up and we ate breakfast in our tents. I tried mentally preparing myself for the day, but with the little sleep I got the night before everything felt impossible. My heart hadn't slowed down at all. My legs were stiff. My eyes were heavy. I needed to go back to sleep. But I hated chickening out from a challenge. I felt like I'd been shying away from a lot of challenges lately: bigger miles, faster paces, night hiking.
I told Miles how I felt. That my racing heart hadn't calmed down. We decided that I would go back to sleep for a couple of hours. Starting later meant that we wouldn't be able to complete the full marathon before dark, though, so we had to forgo that plan. I laid down and finally fell asleep again. When I awoke again later I had a horrible stomach ache. I got up anyway, I couldn't stay here all day.
We packed up slowly and started walking. I hiked alone for a while and Miles went ahead. My body hurt terribly and I couldn't walk to fast because my already pounding heart would start moving faster and caused a pain in my chest. I started thinking that something might be seriously wrong. I had never felt like this before. Never. [TMI WARNING] I stopped after a couple of hours to go pee. That's when I realized I had gotten my period that morning. Just to compound my already crappy state of being. Mother Nature really had it in for me, I thought.
I finally got cell service on a hill. I called my dad, an EMT, and told him my symptoms. He said he thought I might have over-trained myself. It can take up to four days to go away. Usually, he said, they would probably recommend I rest for a couple of days with minimal active recovery. I didn't exactly have that option. I needed to make it to Salisbury at least to ensure that I had enough food. I started crying. I wanted to be at home in my bed with my cat so badly. Feeling sick on trail was by far the worst feeling in the world to me.
I walked on and plugged in a podcast. I managed to make it 12 miles. I had to take a lot of breaks, though. Breathing was hard.