It's true.
Five days ago I ran a Marathon.
My first Marathon.
Possibly my only Marathon.
I am honestly not quite sure what motivated me to sign up for a full marathon this year. A new challenge? A new feather in my cap? An item checked off of my bucket list? When did I even put "run a marathon" on my bucket list?
I have toyed with how to write about my marathon experience. I wanted to share my experience and it's truth for me. I am just glad I waited a few days to finally sit down and write this. I have been pretty overwhelmed with the varying emotions I have experienced since Sunday, post 26.2. I have wavered between feelings of excitement and achievement to feelings of disappointment and maybe a little depression. Is there such a thing as the racing blues?
I know that signing up for a marathon is not for the faint of heart. It is one hell of a time commitment. End of story. No joke. Choosing to make the commitment to train for a marathon was literally four months of scheduling my personal and professional life around midweek runs and long runs.
I think the only way you can be a marathon, mother-runner is if you are a stay-at-home mom, your children are older and self sufficient, you are self-employed and you have the ability to schedule yourself around your kids' schedules and clients' needs or you are truly Wonder Woman. The reality is, I struggled big time with penciling in 7-10 hours a week for training. There is absolutely no way I could have committed to this training if I had to clock in each day from 8-5, while shuttling two young children around. I would have either had to hire a live in nanny or run by the light of the stars. Even as it was, I took calls from agents and lenders while running, scheduled inspections and appraisals while running, sent last minute emails while stretching and I am pretty sure my kids' teachers think I only wear spandex and sports bras.
Training for a marathon is taxing on your body. The aches, pains, sore toenails, sweat and near tears remind you every day you are in the thick of this thing. Pretty quickly though, your body heals, your legs get stronger and your lungs feel so efficient. You feel capable. Maybe you can pull this thing off. Maybe your legs actually can carry your body 26.2 miles.This piece keeps you hopeful. Optimistic.
The real struggle is training your mind. As a mother-runner, the first thing to get over is the guilt of the time commitment you are focusing on yourself and not necessarily your family. The pressure of fitting it all in is rough. Self doubt is a killer. Running 20 miles by yourself is very intimidating. It takes a lot of self discipline to keep putting one foot in front of the other for three hours straight, all alone. No shortcuts. No stopping. You have to make yourself complete all 20 miles no matter how long it takes. It feels amazing when you finish your first 20 miler - for about five minutes. Then your mind reminds you that there are another 6.2 miles you are going to have to overcome on race day and that self doubt hits you once again like a freight train.
I found that music no longer motivated me, gave me pep in my step or drowned out the noises in my head. My mind wondered and I would start focusing on every little distraction possible. The sound my feet made while hitting the ground was like a heard of elephants. The swooshing sound of the water in my hydration vest was enough to make me go crazy. The realization that my fingers sweat when I run and feel gross in the palm of my hand was unnerving. Little tics scratching at your brain for hours, mile after mile. Sometimes you want to scream. I may have screamed out loud once (or twice) over my shoe laces not being equally tightened after stopping four or five times in the same mile to re-adjust and re-tie.
Regardless if I was ready or not, race day arrived. I nervously scooted out the door at o-dark-thirty Sunday morning and headed to catch a shuttle to the starting line. I sat towards the back of the school bus that morning in the dark. I watched the sun slowly start to rise in nervous silence. Cheerful and energized chatter was all around me. I just sat in silence clutching my hydration vest; hoping I had everything I needed for this thing I had gotten myself into. I felt so small surrounded by 40 or more "Marathoners." I was flooded with doubt. What was I doing here with this elite group of athletes? I was so over my head it wasn't even funny. These were real runners. They looked confident and relaxed. They were ready. These real runners.
A few girls started taking pictures of the sun rise, a selfie or two. I allowed myself to eavesdrop and started catching bits and pieces of the conversations these real runners were having all round me. They compared training aches and pains they were hoping wouldn't plague them during the race. They compared their nutritional preferences in gels and breakfasts strategies for race days. They were concerned about staying hydrated as it got warmer. Hoped the aid stations would be well stocked and sufficient. Compared preferred GPS tracking programs. Brands of running shoes. And I realized, I have been concerned with and going over all of the same things in my head this morning. The same things that these real runners were talking about.
The butterflies in my stomach were real. I was doing this. I was going to start and, God willing, finish a marathon.
My running buddy, Joanna, and I stood nervously stretching in our designated race corral. Ten minutes to go, one of the pacers started speaking to us. He welcomed us, gave us some pointers about the course and asked who was running their first marathon today. Joanna and I slowly raised our hands and we realized we were surrounded by 15-20 other first time marathon runners. I smiled. I felt the tension ease in my shoulders and realized we were in good company. I was so ready for this day.
It was a beautiful morning. I felt prepared and this was going to be the set of my amazing experience.
The first 6 miles Joanna and I set into our pace. About 30 seconds faster than I had planned but the energy was so amazing that it was truly hard to scale back. We remained consistent and were both feeling pretty good. But unlike our normal long run Sundays, I noticed we weren't talking as much. Both a little more in our heads. We took turns checking in with the other. We were both experiencing unexpected aches in our feet after a three mile stint over a very crowned road.
At the half way point, we were both in need of a pick-me-up. Our dear friend and fellow mother-runner appeared just when we needed that uplift in our spirits. Rebecca had brought Joanna's oldest daughter to the race and they were there waiting at mile 13 to cheer us along with some homemade signs.
It was AWESOME!
It was so unexpected. Seeing them standing there cheering for us all happened so quickly. Joanna and I laughed the whole next mile because neither one of us actually caught what any of the signs actually said.
Joanna and I have always paced pretty well together on our long runs. It is definitely easier to find those miles under your feet when you are running with someone else, finding them together. We agreed that we would start off tackling this beast together. But at that end of the day, we also agreed to run our own race. At mile 16, Joanna started slowing down and I could tell she was starting to have some trouble. I felt great. I felt pretty strong. At mile 18, I made the decision to steady my pace and move on, to run my race alone.
It was a pretty big decision. I felt like I was abandoning her. I just left her behind. I questioned my decision for about a mile. Should I have tried to be a better running buddy and give her some more encouragement for a little longer? What if something happened to her over the next 8 miles and she never finished? I felt selfish. Self consumed in my own goals not to help encourage her to finish hers. I felt guilty.
Some runners say that you have random emotional encounters with yourself while training for and running a marathon. I believe it! I have though about things, people, life moments and places I hadn't considered in years while training for this marathon. I have analyzed my own character, ambitions and self more than anyone could ever imagine.
I told myself over and over again that she would be just fine. She would finish. I would be there to cheer for Joanna at the finish line.
As if she knew when I needed her most, Rebecca showed up again at mile 20 with Joanna's daughter.
This time I saw her well in advance and I kicked up my heals and let the motivation wash over me. I was still doing well at mile 20. Just another 10K to go!
I knew that last 6.2 miles was going to be a wild card. Uncharted territory for my body. I rounded mile 21 and I was doing it. Running farther than I ever had run before. I had slowed my pace a little bit but I was still feeling relatively confident.
Less than a half mile later, I hit a wall.
My left side started to hurt and it was difficult to breath. I found myself breaking to a walk. I kept telling myself I was just going to walk a few seconds, work it out and start running again. But every time I tried to start running, my breath disappeared and my ribs felt like they were splitting in two. I was trying to push though the pain but I found myself walking more and more until finally, I admitted to myself that walking was all I could do. I wanted to cry. I didn't want anyone to see me cry, but I wanted to cry.
I was so close. Then bonk.
I knew everyone was there at the finish line waiting for me. I had obviously been overzealous in telling them what time I expected to finish. I knew the minutes were just ticking along while I was struggling and walking. I envisioned everyone checking their watches. Losing enthusiasm as the crowds thinned and all the elite runners and their families started going home. My family still standing there... waiting.
I just kept breathing and stretching and putting one foot in front of the other. Periodically testing my ability to run.
Our bodies are wired to have our minds give up before our bodies do. I knew I was struggling, but I wasn't broken. My mind was the only thing that needed an adjustment. An attitude adjustment. So I started thinking about one of my old youth kids from AHA that at 16 was just diagnosed with leukemia in September. I thought about my friend from high school's daughter who was diagnosed with cancer this spring. I thought about the struggles those little souls were facing every day. What was a side ache anyways?
At mile 25, I thought about my kids. I thought about my family and friends waiting for me and I forced myself to run again. I wanted them to see me run across that finish line. I knew the internal embarrassment I would suffer from walking across that finish line was greater than the aches and pains and my body's protests.
Did you know that at the 1908 Olympic Games in London, the marathon distance was changed to 26.2 miles to cover the ground from Windsor Castle to White City Stadium, with the 2.2 miles added on so the race could finish in front of royal family's viewing box. I find it ironic now that those final 2.2 miles were exactly what I needed in that final stretch to get my forward motion going again. 2.2 miles to pull myself together so my family could see me run across that finish line.
Do you know how hard it is to convince your body to run again at mile 25? It was hell. Plain and simple. But I forced my body to run. Okay, I am not sure it was really running. More like wogging. But it wasn't walking. I did walk. But I was doing more jogging than walking and before I knew it I was rounding the last few turns to the finish line.
I asked myself to find one last gear inside.
To give her hell one last time.
My body flat out told me to take a hike.
It may have used an expletive or two against me.
So, I accepted that wogging over the finish line was all I had left to give.
My family cheered. My kids ran out to hug me.
Handy Man was there! He was
My mom, Mike, grandma, and cousin Riley were all there with flowers and balloons.
That crazy friend of mine was there, still holding her signs!
I really appreciated seeing her face throughout the day. Just when I needed her most. My original running buddy. My sole sister!
A few minutes later, Joanna came across the finish line. She made it and I was so happy for her. So was my guilty conscious.
26.2 miles.
A marathon.
We did it.
Ya know, it's true when they say that everything you ever wanted to know about yourself you can learn in 26.2 miles. I don't run necessarily because I love the feeling of running. I run because I love the feeling of being healthy. I love feeling strong and capable. It is very empowering to me to do hard things. I like knowing that I am accomplishing and achieving a goal that many others can't or won't dream of committing to. I love knowing that every breath I take my lungs are expanding and adding days to my life. More days for dreams, laughter and love for my family and friends.
Sunday, I learned a little more about perseverance, humility, and limitations. I learned that I am a real runner - even if I had to do a little walking and wogging along the way.
Will I do another one? I am not sure.
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