Suddenly, it was over. But before a kind volunteer could wrap a mylar blanket around me, I realized that it really wasn't. There were physical and emotional aftershocks to deal with. This really caught me by surprise. The months of training, anticipating, wondering and finally knowing that I could do it just spilled out into a fit of sniffles.
Mylar blankets are a poor substitute for kleenex.
While I scoffed at the idea at the time, after the race I realized that I needed at least a subway token in order to get home. I would gladly have paid someone a million dollars to drive me. As it turned out, I felt too nauseous to ride in anything, so I walked the roughly 2 miles to my apartment. Luckily, some friends who met me near the finishing area kept me company. Later, they told me that they were worried that I would either forget where I lived or simply curl up on Boston Common somewhere for the night.