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7 months.
1 week.
October 27th, 2013. The day I became a marathoner. One year, seven months and one week after I first started running.
It's difficult to know where to begin. I've been MIA for awhile with the weekly marathon training blogs, but I assure you I spent the last six weeks semi-compliantly training (I am incredibly bad at the taper, I will admit). I have been spending a lot of time in my own head, trying to sort out the loss of my father and the loss of my job. My runs continued to be my safe space, where I knew where I was going, what I needed to do, and I could go on autopilot which was a blessed respite from the rest of my life. There were days when it was monotonous. There were days when I just didn't feel like running. There were days when pouring rain gave me the delicious excuse to skip a midweek five-miler. But there were days of pure joy. Adrenaline? Maybe. Knowing my goal was just within reach? Absolutely!
Jamie and I disagreed where our first marathon should happen. I am a fanatic for Spirit of the Marathon and desperately wanted to run Chicago, where the documentary takes place. I don't travel well, and Chicago is comfortable for me. Jamie, as always, had bigger plans. She wanted to run Marine Corps. I've never been so happy to be wrong.
"Go big or go home," Jamie reminded me dozens of times. Riding the Metro at 5 am on race day, picking up more and more racers along our way to the Pentagon drove home the fact that this indeed was big. We watched the sun gently come up and after a few nervous portapotty stops, we made our way to the starting line. We watched a crew of paratroopers flying gigantic US Flags drop right in front of us, and the singing of the Star Spangled Banner had an incredibly poignant meaning, surrounded by hundreds of US Marines in uniform. I was ridiculously teary hugging our support crew goodbye and walked with Jamie to her gate in the corral. I cried, thinking I just didn't want to do this (pure jitters), and Jamie barked at me to get going, which was what I needed. Get your head in the game, Kid.
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| Jamie & I book-ending Team Dreamer-Schemer Support Crew |
I started the race with an ambitious goal for myself, and that was to beat Oprah's MCM 4:29:15 time. During my first half marathon (the Grand Rapids Marathon), I was passed at about mile eight by the Oprah pace team. I did math in my foggy head and knew if I didn't keep up with them I wouldn't make my 2:15 goal, so I pushed along behind them, finally passing with about a half mile to go and beat my goal. So O has a special place in my heart, and although I knew it was a long shot, it was my stretch goal to beat her time.
From trying to leave the starting gates, I knew that my goal was going to be difficult. The streets were unbelievably congested with runners. I simply couldn't make my way through the people to get a jump on my pace. Some women next to me were discussing their strategy, that it's good to start in a faster gate than you intend to run because then you can slow down. They're lucky it was early in the race because if it had been mentioned later I may have become violent with them. Not to mention the hills. Good gravy the hills!!! You climb 200 feet in the first mile, and another 200 in the second. I train in a flat as a pancake neighborhood and on a bike path along a lake. The total gain over the entire course was 1500 feet. This was just cruel.
I will avoid a mind-numbing blow-by-blow account of each mile (but you can check it out here). We started near Arlington National Cemetery, which starkly reminds us of the sacrifices made by soldiers and their families. We made our way through Rosslyn and ran along the tree-lined Potomac ablaze in fall colors. We crossed the Key Bridge into quaint, adorable Georgetown and made an out and back through Rock Creek Park. I finally crossed the first 10k mat, which I knew was reporting to all my friends, family and facebookland and that gave me a giant boost of confidence. My eyes were peeled the whole time until I finally saw Jamie coming toward me. I knew this was the one and only time we would see each other and I was bursting with excitement! We gave quick hugs and took off in our respective directions hollering "I love you"s (hey, running is emotional!).
Crowds of spectators were thick throughout the course, holding signs that either made me laugh ("The NSA would tap that") or cry ("My Dad is my Hero"). The hand-cyclists had a tough time making it through the hilly beginning, but every near by runner was cheering them on. I gave pats on the back to runners pushing carts for people who couldn't run. There were marching bands, real bands, and people with generator-powered boom boxes all along the course. USMC soldiers handed us our water, and a proud moment was a rare female Marine giving me an Oorah, Gatorade, and salute. Highlight! Occasionally I would pass a group of Marines in formation running in uniform (including boots) wearing full packs that weighed 125 pounds, and saw first-hand the expression of Band of Brothers. They stuck together literally through every step (here I go crying again).
We had been warned that there was a stretch of the course through the Potomac Parkway that got a little boring owing to being less visited by spectators. They were right, but it was a nice change of pace from the craziness of the earlier miles. It was serene and I finally crossed the 20k mat (and I felt "my people" cheering for me) and shortly after, the half way mark. The thing is, by this time, you're starting to feel it in your legs and then you realize, holy hell, I'm only half way. I always LOVE the half way point, but that Sunday it was a cause for fear rather than celebration. Running is as much mental as it is physical and I was starting to crumble. Luckily my legs knew just what to do and I got out of my own head for awhile. There was a stretch of the parkway devoted to fallen soldiers, and their photos were on signs about every six feet along the way. I looked into their eyes and became overwhelmed with gratitude for what they sacrificed. There was then a stretch of people holding US Flags and I started to perk up again.
We made our way past the Lincoln Memorial, passing the Washington Monument (dressed in scaffolding for earthquake repairs) to the National Mall where the most insane group of running spectators I have ever seen was assembled. These people upped the spectator game, handing out their own candy, bottled water, mini cans of Coke, tissues, and beloved Vaseline. I still hadn't seen the Team Dreamer-Schemer Support Crew (Jamie's parents and boyfriend) but I did see some Hawkeyes whom I happily gave a "Go Hawks!" Hey, they're MY people too!! My only regret was that I should have made them sing "In Heaven There is no Beer" for me...oh well, next time. Once the Capitol building was in sight I could hardly contain myself! Adrenaline was pumping, back down the Mall.
Unfortunately, the adrenaline was fleeting and I started to crash after the 30k mat (18.6ish miles). At the 20 mile mark we approach the 14th Street bridge back across the Potomac. This is the second gauntlet on the route and I was nowhere near not beating the time limit (at which point you are removed from the course and get a big fat DNF). I took my first walk of the day. It was a collective decision among many of the runners, the mile long bridge was void of spectators, it was sunny, and starting to get very hot. I finally reached for my ipod and hoped some music would cheer me up. My legs wouldn't move and by the 22nd mile, there were not enough expletives in the English language to express what I was going through.
In marathon training, especially for beginners, we never complete more than 20 milers. To reach the 20 mile point and think, "I've never run farther than this and now I need to run for another hour (plus)" is beyond daunting. I had a bit of a mental collapse. Add in the fact that you've now used all your glycogen stores and your muscles feel like lead, well, it's a tough haul. The course takes you through Crystal City where there's a family festival with brightly colored banners and peppy people telling you "You're almost there!" and you want to scream "Bullshit!!! You get your ass out here and try this!!!" (that's the cleaned up version). I remember the roads were painfully uneven, and at this point you feel every bump and crack in the road. Oh, add in the fact that I KNEW every toe on my right foot had blistered and I hardly had enough room in my shoes for them. I had my worst mile. I walked. A lot.
A voice in my head told me "This is when you find out what you're made of, Kid." Not sure who's voice it was. But it was loud and clear. And I thought of my Dad, and decided to dedicate the 24th mile to him. I thought of how he would have been down at the Co-Op Monday morning telling anyone he could that his daughter ran a marathon in Washington, D.C. if he was still with us. I thought of how hard I had to push myself to get out and run again after he passed away this August. Somehow I kept going.
I turned a corner and for the first time, I saw "my people." My sweet friend and hostess for the weekend, Bridget, was standing on a corner, wearing her beloved Dallas Cowboys gear (ballsy for someone from D.C.) and snapping pictures! I stopped to hug her and she made me keep going (P.S., let a runner stop, even for 15 seconds, for a hug...it gives us more of a boost than you can know). Graciously, my blisters popped and the release of pressure was amazing. I suddenly had some spring in my step!
I decided to dedicate my next 2.2 miles to my future. I spent time dreaming about all the things that lay ahead for me. I smiled again. I didn't look at my watch, and I just ran with everything I had. I looked ahead and saw a familiar pink sign with black letters and knew that the Team Dreamer Schemer Support Crew was waiting for me! I started waving my arms in the air from way down the street and was overcome with tears until I passed them, all smiles and a thumbs up to let them know I was all right!
At the MCM, the finish is at the statue of Iwo Jima. A poignant aspect of the memorial is that it sits atop a hill. You hear over and over "Take the Iwo!" and the streets are lined with Marines giving high-fives and telling you to run the hill. When someone in the USMC tells you to do something, well, you do it! Finally, 4 hours, 41 minutes, and 36 seconds after I started, I crossed the finish line. I was congratulated by a long line of Marines, shook their hands, and thanked them for their service to our country. I didn't beat Oprah, but I beat something much bigger: the desire to quit when things got really, really bad.
Then came the finest moment of glory, a USMC soldier draping my medal around my neck, and saluting me. ME?!! Through tears, I humbly thanked him for his service to our country and for being there that day. I looked deep into the eyes of that young hero and thought, who knows what mission is ahead for him? I said a quick prayer to keep him safe, shook his hand, and walked my first step as a marathoner. And not just any marathoner, a Marine Corps Marathoner.
Q: How do you know someone has run a marathon?
A: Don't worry, they'll tell you.
