Understanding the emotional and physical crash after a race—and why doing nothing might just be your next PR move.
Let’s be real: You trained your butt off. You hit the start line, survived the chaos, and crossed that finish.
You did the thing. And now… you feel weird. Maybe even a little post-marathon blues'y.
One minute you’re proud, the next you’re cranky, and somehow you’re googling your next race before you’ve even washed your sports bra.
Welcome to the post-marathon hangover.
It’s that confusing space between “hell yeah, I did that” and “what do I even do with myself now?”
Your body’s tired.
Your brain’s still hyped.
And your identity? Kind of… hovering in limbo.
Let’s talk about what’s really happening.
During training, your system’s on full alert—dopamine, cortisol, and endorphins are having their own rave. Your brain’s hooked on structure, routine, and the constant reward of “check, done, progress.”
Then suddenly… silence.
No more long runs. No more “how many miles this week?” conversations. Just stillness.
And if you’re anything like most athletes, stillness feels like a punishment.
That antsy, emotional, slightly feral energy you’re feeling right now?
It’s biology, not weakness.
Your brain literally doesn’t know what to do when you remove the chase. It’s trying to find the next hit of accomplishment—and it’s panicking because rest doesn’t give it the same chemical fireworks.
This is where most people screw it up.
They fill the gap.
Sign up for another race.
Crank up their training again.
Convince themselves they “recover better when moving.”
Sure, Jan.
What’s really happening is that they’re avoiding the emotional detox that comes after a huge effort.
Because when you stop, you have to sit with it—the exhaustion, the pride, the identity shift, the “what’s next?” panic.
But here’s the plot twist: This hangover is part of the process.
You’re not supposed to bounce back instantly. You’re supposed to metabolize the experience.
So, what do you do instead of spiraling into your next training block?
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Give your brain some structure (without the pressure).
Replace “miles” with “maintenance.” Make a mini routine—mobility, walks, yoga, light strength. Your brain craves rhythm, not volume. -
Feed your recovery.
Sleep like it’s your job. Eat actual meals. Hydrate on purpose. (Coffee doesn’t count. Neither do margaritas. I checked.) -
Reflect instead of react.
Journal about what worked and what didn’t.
You don’t need to fix anything right now—just take notes for future-you. -
Reconnect with joy.
Run without data. Move for fun. Go chase sunsets, not splits.
Why rest feels like a threat (especially for Masters and Menopausal athletes).
Let’s get real: when your hormones shift, your recovery process changes too.
Cortisol stays higher for longer, your sleep can tank, and the old “bounce back in a week” timeline doesn’t exist anymore.
So, yeah—rest feels harder because your physiology has changed.
But that’s not bad news. It’s data.
You’re learning how to adapt to a new version of your body—one that’s more efficient, more attuned, and frankly, more powerful if you give it half a chance to recover.
Here’s the reframe:
Rest isn’t the end of your training—it’s the integration of it.
You didn’t lose momentum.
You’re absorbing it.
And if you can survive 26.2 miles of emotional damage and banana peels, you can survive a week (or three) of doing less.
When you’re ready to move again—move smarter.
That post-race fog is your sign to shift from grind to guidance.
If you’re feeling stuck in the in-between, I built The Menopausal Marathoner Guide exactly for this transition.
It teaches you how to train with your physiology, not against it—so your recovery, hormones, and mindset all sync up instead of fight each other.
And when you’re ready to fall back in love with running itself—without the pressure, metrics, or chaos—start with Project: Breakthrough.
It’s a plan unlike anything else: a little structure, a lot of intention, and zero guilt.
Perfect for rebuilding your rhythm, joy, and confidence post-race.
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Bookmark it or send it to that friend who’s already talking about their next marathon while still limping down the stairs.