I can’t believe I did it. Holy crap, I ran a marathon. 26.2 miles! And it was FUN?! Here’s a short story of the craziness….
The past month my runs (or lack of them!) were bad. After the half-marathon I pulled some muscle next to my calf and shin that took me out of running for two weeks. That was two long runs down the drain. My longest training run was only 16 miles. That meant 10.2 miles of unknown marathon miles. Scary thought.
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| The training grounds |
The week prior to the marathon I was very nervous. I felt like I was getting a lower leg injury again, which freaked me out. My confidence in running the marathon was waning. I was preparing myself for the possibility of being in agony and not finishing. Which would have been oh so disappointing. I needed this win.
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Norris and I out on a 15 mile run
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The night before the marathon, I carbed up (pizza, pizza) and went to bed early. 4:15 am wake up. Ick. I dressed, got a few bites of food from the hotel breakfast and got on the marathon bus out the front door. Or so I thought? A few minutes after sitting down the gentlemen next to me starts talking, saying how he used to do the full but now only does the half. Wait? What? The half? It took me a minute (I was tired) but then I realized I was on the wrong bus! Whoops! Literally the doors were closed and it was about to take off as I jumped out of my seat and told the driver I needed to get out.
Turns out the marathon buses were across the street! Remembering details at four am can be rough. Luckily I still had five minutes to spare, and as I cross the road one of my favorite songs is on the speakers “Forever Young” by Bob Dylan. I take it as a good sign the rest of the day will go better.
As I stood in line for the correct bus, it turns out the full marathoners got nice tour buses instead of school buses. Riding in S.T.Y.L.E before running in P.A.I.N. I lucked into sitting next to two marathon pros. One guy had run this race every year since it was started: 12 times. That is promising. He said I’ll love it and it will get me hooked.
The other guy, get this, is running his 371st marathon! He’s 61, started running 20 or so years ago. He once ran 52 marathons in 52 weeks and has run a marathon on every continent. He gave me tips saying take it slow, enjoy it, walk. I Googled him later, here’s a story about him: http://magazine.byu.edu/print.php?a=2738.
Along the way they both were showing me the course, telling me where the rough parts were and where the fun parts were. This later proved to be extremely helpful in preparing my mind for what was next during the run.
Around 6:00 am we arrived at the starting line or the porta-party. For those of you not familiar with race starts, it seems to be about two things: staying warm and going potty. To stay warm, they had fires to gather around. Smart people brought extra clothing to wear while waiting and take off before the race. Being a novice, I did not understand why this was so brilliant. Now I do. Note to self: bring a blanket next time while waiting an hour until the sun rises and the race starts.
Now the potty dilemma is a funny one. Since you ate and hydrated an hour ago and are aiting another hour for the race to start, it is imperative that you utilize the porta-potty because horror of all horrors is that, while you are running, you lose control. Not pretty. Thus, nearly 3,000 runners are competing for 50 toilets (or sometimes bushes).
And then it is time to start. Well sorta. Lining up takes 10 minutes. Then when the gun actually goes off, for those of us in the back of the line, it is another 10 minutes until we actually cross the finish line. But then we’re (finally) off!
Now my main goal was under five hours, so I was debating between running with the 4:30 pace group and the 5:00 pace group. A pace group is led by an uber-elite runner that runs a certain pace, keeps you motivated, and helps you out. I informally ran with the 5:00 pace group. Although it got annoying at some point as he would run faster and then walk, passing me here and there. But seeing how I wasn’t confident in my ability to finish, I decided to take it easy and not push myself. Those first 8 miles seemed slow.
The day was a perfectly sunny day, although quickly getting hot. The high was forecasted to be 75! The past few years living in Alaska I had discovered my weakness to extreme sunshine and heat. I knew I had to watch out. Luckily the sun was at my back. I stayed overly hydrated (but still never had to use a porta along the course!) with aid stations every two miles. I learned to walk through them- drink water, PowerAde, take a cliff shot, and often throw water on my head.
Around mile 9 is when I started getting my stride. I broke free of the pacing group, decided to move on just in case I needed to walk later to still get in under five. The best thing about starting out slow is that you get to pass so many people! It is awesome.
The halfway point was exhilarating! A band playing, people cheering. I started to think I’m actually gonna do this. The course twisted and turned. Views of the mountains, lakes, and streams. Then came mile 14, most of this course is downhill, this portion was not. Running into the sun, uphill. Lame. But that’s when I started using my phone and taking pictures, a nice distraction.
After that it was downhill. The next “milestone” was Mile 16. It’s scary going into the unknown. What is this going to feel like? How is my body going to react? Will I hit the dreaded wall?
Somewhere around Mile 17 my quads started to tighten up and ache. I had to stop and stretch here and there. But I was still cruisin, passing runners. One familiar runner even, #371. I’m sure this was just a training run for him, but it made me feel good to pass the seasoned marathon runner.
They say Mile 20 is when you hit “the wall”. The wall is a point at which you’ve expelled all your energy and it’s hard to push on. There is some course irony in that there was a retaining wall at that point in the canyon. Cruel? I’m not sure it was the constant intake of cliff shots, the water, the PowerAde, or the downhill, but I didn’t hit it. I actually was smiling and felt good. My legs were definitely in pain, but I could manage it, I could do this. Mind over matter. I was doing this. I was running a marathon.
Before leaving the canyon, around mile 23, one last sight: a waterfall. Didn’t expect that lovely surprise!
After that I saw my cheering crowd, giving me a boost and making me pick up my pace to get to that finish line! The last mile was grueling; the finish line seemed so far away. The last timing update within the last mile, told me I was close to finishing around 4:45. So I gave it all I had, pushing onward through the cheers and crowds. Then there it was: Mile 26.2. The goal that I had envisioned for so many years was within sight. With a few final steps I crossed the finish line. I had run a marathon.
Medal. Water. Food. Stretch. Pain. It’s all a blur after you finish.
As the aftermath of the run set in, I noticed how hard it was to sit up or down. I have to rely on my arms to pull me. Going up steps is painful, you opt to go sideways or backward. The next day, as the muscles settled, I encountered pains in places I never would have thought. But as crazy as it sounds, it’s a good pain, a feeling of accomplishment in pushing your body’s limits.
It’s nearly a week later and I’m feeling significantly better. I went to work and was able to tell all those people that had I told about my training that I had actually done it. Satisfaction in its purest form.
I have my medal hanging up, reminding me of my first marathon. What a great memory. Life goal: check. I can say I did it now. I have this feeling though that the story might not end there. That I might have just stirred something up. I’m already dreaming….what’s next?
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