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In this episode of How the F&^%$ Did We Become Runners, Robert and Ange officially enter the emotional hangover portion of marathon life — you know, the part no one warns you about. The finish line confetti has settled, the medals are collecting dust, and suddenly there’s… no plan? No spreadsheet? No coach yelling “hydrate”? Just two former Dublin Marathon legends spiraling because the glory days of training are over.
Robert copes by casually dropping (every five minutes) that he went to Paris and ran seven miles there — did he mention he went to Paris? Paris? Meanwhile, Ange took a week off to rediscover what “rest” feels like and is easing back into running like a responsible adult, which frankly feels rude.
Together, they wade through the sadness, the weird aimlessness, and the uncomfortable truth: nobody talks about the gaping void that appears after a marathon. The hype train stops, the adrenaline dies, and you’re left asking, “Now what the fuck do we do?”
Spoiler: they don’t know. But they’re going to complain about it — and maybe laugh through it — with you.
By Angela Anderson ConnollyIn this episode of How the F&^%$ Did We Become Runners, Robert and Ange officially enter the emotional hangover portion of marathon life — you know, the part no one warns you about. The finish line confetti has settled, the medals are collecting dust, and suddenly there’s… no plan? No spreadsheet? No coach yelling “hydrate”? Just two former Dublin Marathon legends spiraling because the glory days of training are over.
Robert copes by casually dropping (every five minutes) that he went to Paris and ran seven miles there — did he mention he went to Paris? Paris? Meanwhile, Ange took a week off to rediscover what “rest” feels like and is easing back into running like a responsible adult, which frankly feels rude.
Together, they wade through the sadness, the weird aimlessness, and the uncomfortable truth: nobody talks about the gaping void that appears after a marathon. The hype train stops, the adrenaline dies, and you’re left asking, “Now what the fuck do we do?”
Spoiler: they don’t know. But they’re going to complain about it — and maybe laugh through it — with you.