On Saturday, I ran my last race of the season. I trained well and felt perfectly prepared. I was pleased with the execution of my race plan and results. Most importantly, I had fun.
So why do I find myself moping around the house? Why do I feel like I have no purpose?
After a few days of meandering around the house, it dawned on me. I’m suffering from Post Race Depression. It’s fall in New England and I have no more races on my calendar. I haven’t even thought about what I want to do in 2016. I have no race goals. I feel like the leaves that I can see from my office window. One gust of wind and they are separated from the branches that have been their home since early spring. Now they are flowing freely having no idea where they will land.
Right now, I’m open to any ideas. Any wind that will provide me with some direction.
One friend thinks I should run a 50k to celebrate turning 50 next year. Others are suggesting another Half Ironman. My own son would love for me to do another IronMan distance race.
I’m mulling it over. Doing some research and hoping the wind will blow hard enough so that I’ll land somewhere that feels comfortable and just right.