Up to that point, I was so frightened that it would hurt that much again. After London, the pain took 3 days to disappear, it took a lot longer than that for all the strength to return. For Budapest, I was out for a 2 - hour hike in the night around the city by myself that same night. I hiked around for another 3 hours the next day before having to get to the airport. It was funny with Budapest, because... I had to lie to my parents before I went. Due to such severe pain and suffering after the London (father called me everyday to check on me and to get me to describe how I felt and where hurt, he is a doctor), mother was absolutely against my running any more marathon again. So I lied and said, oh I am just running the half marathon, I want to see Budapest. In truth, how can I possibly go all the way to Budapest, see one of the most beautiful cities in the world, and do only a half!!?? No way. Afterwards, i was so excited that I had to tell them. So how did I do that without admitting that I had been lying all along? I called and said, "dad, remember I was running a half? When I went to registration, I heard that they still had vacancies in the full marathon, so I..." at that point, my father howled with laughter. When he was done, he said, "I can't, can't believe that you went and did that again. I can't believe that you did that again." Pride seeping into his every syllabus. He remembered, to the second, the time it took me to finish the London. He was like, so.. you're 40 minutes faster!!
Woody Allen says that, if you never fail, that is a sign that you're playing it safe. Who am I to argue with one of the best filmmakers and one of the smartest comedians too? I look at the photograph of me when I crossed the finishline at London. My eyes appear to be closed in the picture, I remember crystal clear what I was feeling then, I was blinking back tears. The marshalls there took a hold of me and, looked me in the eye, told me "well done." I couldn't even say thank you, I didn't dare to hug him, even though I was completely dry - I stopped sweating when I blew up at around 16th mile - for fear that I would just break down and weep.
The trickiest part, and don't let anyone tell you any different, is the tricks that your own mind plays on you. At least in my case that was true. I knew that I was going to finish. There was never any doubt that I was going to finish. I would crawl, I would roll, I would limp, hop to the finish. And hear the grandstand of people. But the pain sent a very different signal to your mind, it wanted me to stop. It wanted my mind to shift, to wan. I forced myself to sip some water that the St. John's Ambulence people handed me. One of them said, "I know this must feel so terrible, but you don't want to stop and give up, do you?" Of course not, I didn't have to think about it. I knew that it would be unthinkable. It would undo everything that I knew and believed in myself. I set off in a trot again, much slower, every step the pain shook my system. And at the finish, I realised that, if I could finish in this pain, what else couldn't I do? With that knowledge in mind, a person gets so much stronger as a result. But I didn't learn that much new about myself. I knew that I wasn't going to give up, and that was that. 
Just lifting up that arm was painful. But it was a photo finish, and it had to be done. Thankfully, 2 more successful marathons later, I now know that there are many more to come.
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