Apologies in advance

 If you’ve ever run a marathon/half marathon—or heck, any sort of race, ever—you’ve totally done this before:

Bored someone to tears with all the intricate details of every single second of your fitness endeavour. 

On the one hand, you should be proud of your accomplishments. You did it! You’re awesome! But on the other hand … does the rest of the world really need to hear about the nasty blister you developed around 14.5km and how you had to stop for a minute at the next water station to pop it just to journey on? No. No, they do not.

We’ve all caught ourselves doing this from time to time: humble-bragging about our various fitness-related accomplishments. 

Let me show you how annoying it is. This is going to be pretty unbearable:

Let me tell you about my race last Saturday. But first, I have to go into detail about my months of preparation, talk about the encouragement and support I received from friends and family, and give you a kilometre-by-kilometre assessment of my state of mind and physical condition during the race.

I hate to say it, but it's going to take quite a bit of your time.

Kilometre split times, cramping, hydration levels, chafing—you're about to hear all of that. 

PLUS, I'll be dwelling on one point around 17km when I considered stopping but then decided to keep going because I'd already come so far. There's a lot to cover, so make yourself comfortable.

I'll inevitably start with how I carbo-loaded the night before the race, which by itself will not be a particularly long or objectionable story, but let me assure you it will segue right into an excruciatingly detailed explanation of the diet I maintain to stay in peak physical shape. And that, in turn, will lead into my training regimen, my special lightweight marathon gear, and, unfortunately for you, a lengthy period during which I expound upon the health benefits of distance running.

I know this isn't the kind of thing you want to listen to—hey, no one does—but I will include several anecdotes about my running partner Esna, a person you don't know and couldn't possibly be interested in hearing about.

Believe me, if I could stop myself from talking about this, I would. But I can't, so I will tell you all about my personal best time, and you'll think to yourself, "She is flipping crazy!" 

But here's the truly awful part: Out of politeness, you will have to pretend to be impressed by that number, even though, to you, it will seem completely arbitrary and hold no meaning at all.

You'll also be hearing quite a bit about the sense of accomplishment I felt upon finishing the race. You're going to hate that, trust me. There will be detestable phrases like "I never thought I could do it, but I did" and "It truly was a life-changing experience" and "It's a huge commitment, but definitely worth it."

I can barely express how insufferable I'm going to be.

I'm so sorry; I know you've done nothing to deserve this, but right when you think I'm finished talking—just when you get your hopes up—I'll mention how this wasn't my first race, and then you're going to hear details of my three other races. I can't even imagine how horrible it will be for you to hear how I believe I've progressed as a runner, but by that point in, there just won't be any getting around it.

While it is tangentially related, I may launch into an agonizing digression on the merits of five-day juice cleanses at any moment during the conversation. I beg your forgiveness.

Worst of all, I'm definitely going to run other races in the future, so I'll have to tell you all about the various races I'm thinking about entering and the pros and cons of each course. Please accept my deepest apologies in advance because as excruciating as today's discussion is, it won't end here.

Every day during my weeks of preparation leading up to the next race, I will make you stop whatever you're doing to tell you the number of kilometres I ran the previous evening. Isn't that awful? No one should have to listen to that.

I'll also have to tell you that you should run one of these things, too. I honestly can't convey how intensely sorry I feel that these words will soon be coming out of my mouth, but I will actually say to you that if I can run, so can you.

Wow, I'm really, really sorry. I don't know how you'll be able to tolerate this.