My best worst marathon ever.

Signing up for a marathon is always a gamble. You bet that you will be healthy on a day months in advance, that you will be able to avoid injury training up to that day, that you will have trained to run your best marathon yet, and that you will be of sound mind and remember all the crap you need to successfully run a marathon.


June 5, 2011- Rock and Roll Marathon San Diego. Was I mentally ready to go through the checklist of things I would need to have the morning of the race? Nope. Had I gone through training without injury? Nope. Did I have a restful week full of good nutrition and a perfect taper? Of course not. This was not the time for setting a new PR. I knew that going in, and I thought I was okay with it. San Diego is a 6 hour drive, and I planned to sleep the whole way. Why I ever assume that, because I plan on sleep, it will happen, is beyond me. I slept long enough for it to make my neck hurt, and that was the best I could do. The expo was accomplished easily, and my packet was picked up. We got back to the hotel with plenty of time to relax, find some food, and for me to get set for the next day! So, what did I forget? I had no headphones or jacket for my iPod. . .hmm, I could run without music, that'd be ok. I had no socks . . . problem. I could try running without socks . . . uh, no I couldn't. My husband heroically took on the task of getting some headphones and socks from target while I fell into a deep, Ambien-induced sleep. I would be ready to tackle the marathon in the morning!

Morning coffee, some oatmeal, and a running outfit sent me in the right direction for starting a marathon. I left with an hour and 30 minutes to get to the shuttle. Traffic would be a nightmare, but I am a planner, and would never be late. . .traffic was a nightmare, and I was 15 minutes late getting on the shuttle. I laughed that it would only take me twice as long to finish the marathon. The arrogance of such a thought got the attention of universe, and it was determined to teach me some respect! I took my time getting to the start. Since it is all chip timed, I got to wait in line to use the port-o-potty, and then walk over to the starting corrals. I was in a much slower group, so I'd have to do quite a bit of weaving to get this thing done. Qualify for Boston, yes please. Crap, I forgot my Gu. . .Balls, I didn't put sunscreen on my face. . .eh, too late now, let's rock and roll!!!
Pacing myself for the first mile, I kept myself slightly under an 8:30 min/mi. I felt amazing. The temperature was perfect, and my music was motivating my progress. After the first mile, I went for it. I knew I could get that 3:30 time. I could feel my legs, powerful, ready to take on anything! Turned out the course was pretty hilly . . . no matter, I trained in Austin, and my last marathon had hills. I bumped my pace up again, blasting through 2 more miles at a sub 8 min/mile. I let myself drop back to an 8:10 after that to make sure I didn't burn myself out . . . ha ha. I hit mile 7- rather, mile 7 hit me with muscle pain from my quadriceps. That was unexpected. And there I was, ready to run another 19 miles with this pain. "It is no different than the pain you'll feel coming off that 112 mile bike ride", I told myself. And so, I ran on. I could not keep the faster pace, so I had to let go of Boston. That disappointment hurt almost as much as my legs.

Mile 20, the infamous moment when you separate the men from the boys! My heart became too heavy to run with anymore, and it was time to let go. I felt like I had failed myself. I believed I would not become an ironman. Yes, I cried. So many people are impressed by what I can do. My friends, coworkers, family, they wish me good luck and tell me to kick butt, and they know I am powered by discipline and a strong will. My discipline had been weak, my will was tapped out, and I faced the realization that I was going to let us all down.

Mile 22- I quit. I was ready to find the next medical aid tent and have them cart me off the course. What was the point of going on anymore? When I vocalized my intention to quit, the guy next to me said, "No, you can't quit." It surprised me. I forgot what that phrase sounded like when it came from somewhere outside my own head. I would walk, but I would not quit. The difference between walking the last 6 miles of a marathon and quitting seemed small to me. Anyone can walk 6 miles, right? And there I was, watching runners who had properly paced and hydrated zip past me as I felt the full sting of my failure.
Mile 24- Being present. My battery was getting low, and I had to turn off my music. And so my journey began. I came out of my self-focused pity party, and began to realize where I was, and who I was surrounded by the self-proclaimed "stragglers". We each had a story of what we'd wanted to accomplish today, and many of us were not going to make it, but it was indeed a beautiful day for failure. Walking, talking, singing along with the bands that played along the route, and being completely aware of the moment I was in without a rush to get on to the next agenda item, lead me to a peace of mind I had forgotten how to experience. The purity of the moment, and my ability to let go made me realize this marathon was never about Boston. This marathon was for me.
Mile 26- Only a mile to go, so, what the hell, let's get it done right. And I was off. My goal- run a mile. I could feel my quads, but my heart was light again, and the pain just didn't seem so bad. So I took off at an 8:30 min/mi pace, looking like I'd just started this crazy race over again at the last mile. I have never felt so good about a race. I have never been prouder to recieve a medal. And, I have never been in so much pain the next day. I found my limits, and I ran into them full force that day. I will be a stronger person because I chose to complete a marathon on June 5th 2011.