Well, congratulations. You’ve completed the Dublin Marathon! You’ve officially paid a fair chunk of change for the privilege of exhausting yourself and destroying your kneest. It’s a marvel, really, 26.2 miles, probably without a single pub stop. Not even a Guinness. Who says you can’t do anything if you set your mind to it?
But now, you might be feeling a bit lost. The marathon’s done, the medal’s on the shelf (or stuffed into a drawer), and your family have stopped pretending to care. You’ve achieved something meaningful, but so what? What’s next? Don’t panic. We’ve got a few ideas to keep that adrenaline going. Spoiler alert: some of these are painful. But clearly that’s your thing.
1. The Ultra Marathon
It’s the natural next step, right? You’ve done 26.2 miles, so why not go for 50 or 100? It’s basically just like doubling a marathon, except with extra suffering and fewer toenails. Ultras are where you swap roads for trails and water stops for hallucinations. You’ll learn to eat mashed potatoes out of a ziplock bag and call it “fuel.”
If you thought 26.2 miles was bad, just wait until you hit mile 60 and start talking to trees. You’ll tell your friends that you “found yourself out there,” but really, you just lost your sanity somewhere between checkpoints. And the best part? You get a belt buckle instead of a medal, as if your reward for crippling fatigue should be a fashion accessory you’ll never wear.
2. Triathlons
Because clearly, you didn’t suffer enough. Why limit your self torture to one sport when you can ruin your entire body instead of just your legs? Triathlons involve swimming, cycling, and running, so now you can experience exhaustion on land and sea. Imagine getting a cramp in three disciplines at once while trying to look like you know what “transition zone” means.
Triathletes are a rare breed who call a 4 a.m. swim “refreshing.” You’ll spend thousands on a wetsuit, another few grand on a bike that’s lighter than your dignity, and you’ll still finish behind the guy wearing a €40 Decathlon helmet. Just make sure not to drown in the Liffey. There’s no runner’s high down there, only shopping trolleys and broken dreams.
3. “Retire” Into a Local Running Group
Nothing says “I used to be an athlete” like joining a running club where everyone wears compression socks and talks about split times like they’re stock prices. Saturday mornings will now be dedicated to comparing Garmin data and pretending you enjoy tempo sessions.
These groups are filled with lovely people who somehow turn every chat into a therapy session about taper anxiety. They’ll add you to a WhatsApp group that never stops pinging, and you’ll soon discover that “social run” means running so fast you can’t breathe, let alone speak. But you’ll have friends, a post run coffee habit that costs more than your rent, and a sense of belonging that only comes from mutual delusion.
4. Enter the Spartan Race
If the marathon was child’s play, the Spartan Race is its deranged older cousin. You’re not just running anymore, you’re crawling under barbed wire, hauling sandbags, and pretending to enjoy it. Mud will become your skincare routine. But don’t worry, once you’ve scraped every last bit of skin off your knees and been electrocuted a few times, you’ll get another medal to add to your collection of things you probably won’t remember after you wake up in accident and emergency.
5. The 4x4x48 Challenge
Now we’re entering the realm of full madness. Run 4 miles every 4 hours for 48 hours. It’s perfect if you enjoy sleep deprivation and mild hallucinations. You’ll start strong, confident, even smug, and by the fourth run, you’ll be a broken shell of a person whispering to yourself about oatmeal and ankle pain.
This challenge is designed for people who think a normal marathon is too mainstream. Somewhere around mile 60, you’ll be convinced Goggins himself is behind you shouting, “Stay hard.” By hour 40, you’ll resemble a zombie with a Fitbit. But when it’s over, you can post about it on Instagram and wait for the flood of admiration and thinly disguised concern.
6. Take Up Competitive Eating
After months of burning calories like a furnace, why not reverse the process? You’ve earned the right to sit at a table and eat until your soul leaves your body. Competitive eating is perfect for those who miss the thrill of discomfort but prefer it seated.
You’ll swap gels for chicken wings, Vaseline for napkins, and finish lines for food comas. Sure, your friends will be concerned, but you can always say, “It’s just another endurance sport.” Except this one ends in nausea instead of chafing. Think of it as carbo loading, but with no run afterwards and no self respect either.
7. Write Your Memoir
Every runner thinks they have a story. Unfortunately, most of them do, and they’ve all written it. Still, why not join the club? “The Courage to Run 26.2 Miles: My Story” will look great on the bottom shelf in your parents’ spare room, next to the old board games no one plays. Think of it as your chance to immortalize yourself in a way that only a niche group of fellow masochists will ever understand. Writing a memoir gives you the perfect excuse to relive your marathon glory, frame it as personal growth, and pretend you didn’t cry on the South Circular Road. You’ll convince yourself you’re the next Murakami, but you’re really just another exhausted soul trying to find meaning in shin splints.
8. Sign Up for a Spring Marathon in Europe
Let’s be honest, the end of one marathon is just the beginning of Googling another. Europe’s full of spring races, so you can suffer all over again somewhere prettier. Malta in February, Barcelona in March, Rome in April, or Paris if you enjoy crowds and croissants at mile 18.
In Malta, you’ll dodge vespas and humidity like a local. In Barcelona, you’ll breeze past the Sagrada Familia still covered in scaffolding. In Rome, you’ll trip over cobblestones while pretending to admire the Colosseum. The medal will look exotic, the pain will feel the same, and you’ll once again swear this is your last one until you sign up for another in June.
9. Do Nothing
Now here's a revolutionary idea: just... do nothing. Embrace the radical notion that after voluntarily running 26.2 miles, you've earned the right to sit down, maybe forever. Consider treating yourself to a Netflix binge or a deep, satisfying nap that lasts a full calendar year. You’ve reached the peak of athletic achievement, so relax, let your running shoes gather dust and treat your legs to a long, guilt free relationship with the couch. Remember, it’s okay to stop! In fact, it’s probably healthier to stop. Plus, you get to enjoy the smuggest “I’ve already run a marathon” attitude when your friends mention their latest 5K. Whenever anyone asks if you’re training for something, just shrug and say, “Nah, I’m retired,” as you settle in with a bag of Tayto and the cozy knowledge that you’ll never have to subject yourself to marathon induced chafing again.
Conclusion
So, what’s next for you? More pain, more medals, more slightly alarming life choices. Whatever you pick, just remember this: everyone already thinks you’re a bit mad, but that’s what makes you interesting. After all, anyone can go for a walk. You ran 26.2 miles through wind, rain, and emotional damage, and you came out smiling. Sort of.