This whole sharpie thing on my arm lasted a total of about 30 minutes. About 4 miles in, it was smeared all over my arm.
My niece and I had a good time getting pumped up for the race by putting race tattoos on our arms the night before. Of course I was planning on going to bed at like 8:30 the night before, but that didn't happen. I figured I'd gone to bed early enough the week before to have rested enough. The number of hours I slept the night before wasn't going to make or break my race time.
When I woke up Saturday morning, I had everything ready. I felt nauseous all night long, and actually threw up in the hotel before we left for the bus. (I was nauseous all week anyway) Saturday morning I ate a banana at 3:45 AM, considering I still had 3 hours until the start. I was worried, because all of my training had been in the morning and I never ate before. Everything I had read, said to eat something the morning of the race--so I did.
We loaded the busses at 4:15 AM, and had about a 45 minute bus ride to get to Guardsman's Pass, where the race started. The lsat few miles to the starting line were full of switchbacks. It was too much time on the bus, and allowed my nerves to really start accumulating. To make things worse, we got up there, and after about 30 minutes of sitting on the ground huddling in our electric blankets, they came out and told us that the race was going to be delayed by about 40 minutes. Keep in mind that it was like 40 degrees. Apparently one of the busses had a wheel go off the edge of the road and it got stuck. They had to shuttle down a few other busses to get all of the marathoners up there. That was a little frustrating. We ended up starting at about 7:10 AM. A few minutes before the race I drank a 5 hour energy (which I was also nervous about, because I never took any sort of caffene pills when I trained). The 5 hour energy gave me quite the boost out of the gate...
It was crazy to see all of the other crazy people about to run 26.2 miles, all in one small area. It was pretty cool I must say. I started out with the 3:35 pacer, and was planning to stay with her the whole time The 3:35 pacer was going to average about an 8:10 (flat) pace, and not necessarily go faster going down the canyon. I had decided that wanted to bank some time on the first half of the race, so I would have more of a cushion the last few miles. I averaged about a 7:30 pace the entire way down the canyon. It was fast, and it was also painful. There were a few parts where it was actually painful. Eventhough the first 16 miles were mostly downhill (with an occasional flat mile) I felt great. The only pain I had were in my calves, which were incredibly tight. I decided not to bring my own gels, since they would have aid stations about every 4 miles. I took one gel that I made last for about 8 miles. I had decided I didn't want to walk, not even through the aid stations, but that I would get my re-fueling from drinking sips of gatorade at each station, and just run through them.
My sister Rebecca met me at mile 14. She is amazing!!! We came out of the canyon, and I felt strong. I saw my parents and my friend from High school who were there to cheer me on, at about mile 18. I was feeling strong and still where I needed to be! We hit mile 21, all of a sudden my ankle started to feel incredibly tight. The tightness eventually turned into an excruciating pain. The whole time, I had been ahead of where I needed to be, and in that moment, I started to realize I was significantly slowing down. Mentally I started to break down. This was "the wall" that I'd heard about so many people hitting. My mind started telling me I was done for. At this pace, I would never be able to hit my time. I had been so on track, and now out of no where, my ANKLE hurt. Never before had I experienced any sort of ankle injury. I'd had sore ankles in training, but never ever had my left ankle hurt like this. My sister, being the angel she is, was able to get to my parents and get me some advil at mile 21. Mile 21-23 were HELL. I thought I was going to die. I started hyperventilating, and at one point I was crying, thinking I would never be able to finish. This was about the point where the 3:25 pacer passed me. (That didn't help.) At about mile 24, the 3:35 pacer passed me...I started getting my strength back in my ankle (thank heavens for those 3 advil, which eventually started kicking in at this point) around mile 24, and I was able to pick up the pace a little bit. The last two miles of a marathon are known as the "Death March"--I would agree with this term. It really was awful. At mile 25, I was back to about an 8:30 pace. I was feeling good, and like my adrenaline was starting to kick in once again. (The human body is an incredible thing.)
About the last about 5 minutes of the race, the most incredible thing happened... I was literally pushing through excruciating pain, and all of a sudden I couldn't feel anything. I just pushed, until I was sprinting through the chute. The people cheering and my sister chasing me with her camera filming me, was the most awesome feeling I think I have ever experienced!!!! Coming through the finish line was a euphoric moment!!! I was so so so happy. I didn't remember the pain I had been in just moments before. The high lasted for hours. I refused to take my medal off, because it was an incredible feeling of accomplishment, that was un-like anything I had ever experienced.
Here I am coming in--I was pushing so hard. At that point I really couldn't feel anything since I was so much just running off of adrenaline (literally).
My sister is incredible! It was like I had a personal trainer with me for the last 10 miles!!
I feel like now that I've done a marathon, I could do anything.
It was such an incredible experience.
My roommates came and were there cheering me on as I ran down the chute too. I am so lucky to have so many supportive friends and family members!!
Stephen, one of my best friends from High School even came to cheer me on!
There were moments I honestly didn't think I was going to make it (about the last 6 miles haha). Luckily, my sweet sister saved me in the moments where I was hyperventilating, and could barely lift my feet off the ground. When I was so discouraged when I realized I wasn't going to make my goal, she kept me going strong. I still finished well under 4 hours, and I'm stoked about it. I feel like having accomplished this, it's given me that much more motivation to do another marathon--and other hard things.
My awesome room-mates had this up on our door when I got home :) They are so sweet!
Now, let me now tell you about a little something called the POST-MARATHON blues. but yuck. this really stinks.
I woke up this morning and literally experienced pain in every muscle in my body--all at once. I immediately went to the river. The guy in his church clothes walking his dog, probably thought it was a little odd to see sitting there in the river. I sat for about 25 minutes, and just let the water beat against my legs. I think that should help...Also, I have a massage tomorrow, which I think will be a life saver. I haven't done anything today except lay here, blog, sleep, wake up and rub icy hot on my legs. Oh, and watch chick flicks. Some Sunday :/
This week I'll lay low on Monday and Tuesday, and possibly run a few miles on Wednesday. I'm in pain, but it was totally worth it.
Oh PS. it's probably pretty funny to watch me hobble around.
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