26.2 Miles of Awesome
Nov. 4th, 2008 05:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pyjamapantsMollysister reminded me today that I hadn't posted the long story of my marathon (oh, and it's long, alright). So, to entertain you as the votes start to trickle in, here's my account:
October 19th, 2008 may officially be the best day of my entire life. The weather was beautiful, though a bit brisk in the wee hours of the morning. There was hardly a cloud in the sky. And I ran 26.2 miles powered by four and a half months of training, a positive and determined outlook, the support of many, many family members and friends, an awesome group of coaches, and enough energy gel to power eight little league teams.
Honestly, I've been trying to figure out what to write in this space for over a week, and I'm not sure words can possibly, accurately capture it. But I'll give it a go.
The night before the marathon, all of the Team in Training members met for a pasta dinner. There were 125 people from Ohio running either the half or full marathon the following morning. Awards were distributed to top fund raisers. Collectively, all 125 of us raised $290,000 towards cancer research. Then a woman delivered a presentation that began with the words, "Statistically, I do not exist." Having survived Hodgkins disease, breast cancer, and leukemia, she travelled to our pasta party, inspired us, and thanked us for our hard work and fund raising. It was a very touching experience to say the least.
The morning started early at five AM. As expected, I slept horribly the night before. I do NOT sleep the night before really big long runs. Upon awakening, I asked my roommate, "Our massage is at nine, right? We're really here for a spa weekend, aren't we?" No such luck. Instead we were off to the showers to warm our muscles. Then we headed down for stretching with the team, and I scarfed down a peanut butter granola bar. We collectively headed to the start line, and before I knew it the race was about to began. A band was playing "(You Gotta) Fight for your Right (to Party)" at the start line. Let me tell ya, there's just nothing like screaming along to a Beastie Boys cover at 7:30 on a chilly Sunday morning whilst wearing a trash bag (to conserve body heat). Seriously. Doesn't that sound like the start of a really bad frat boy story? But alas, no alcohol was involved. Just me and 15,000 othernutjobs runners. Next time I hear that song, I'll be surprised if I don't break into a sprint.
I'd already called Scott while we were waiting at the start line, so when the race started I did what any sane person would do... I called my parents. They, of course, were asleep and not terribly pleased to be hearing from me, but they congratulated me anyway. (They should be glad I was a crazy runner calling at 6:30 CT rather than a drunk college student; the phone call could have accompanied a request for bail). Then I dropped my phone and nearly killed someone who almost tripped over me when I stopped to pick it up. A good time was had by all.
From there, it's really a blur through mile 12. I ran with the 5:30 pace group through mile six when I pulled ahead of them. The miles were punctuated with live bands; water/Gatorade stops; a mile with my coach Kathleen; a mile with my coach Terry; leapfrog with a TNT run-walker and my coach Linda; and, frequent updates from DH and cousins who were en route to Columbus to cheer me on. The course was packed through mile 13 with both marathoners and half-marathoners.
The sheer number of runners makes one very significant difference to me. Forget the enthusiasm of the fellow runners (which was awesome). Forget the hordes of people out cheering (which was awesome). Nope, the sheer number of runners means that statistically, SOME of them are slower than me. So unlike most training runs, I actually got to pass people. It was fantastic (bet you thought I would say awesome, right?), and I was grinning like a fool the entire time.
Yes, I smiled nearly the entire race. For one, it was awesome and I was really, truly happy. Every half mile or so, a voice in my head shrieked in delight, "OMG, you are RUNNING A MARATHON!!!!!!!!! Can you believe it?!?! You're RUNNING A MARATHON!!!!! And you're going to finish!!!! You're totally going to finish it!!!!!!" Who needs an iPod when you've got a voice in your head screaming like you've won the Showcase Showdown? Second, I was smiling because horrible pictures surfaced of me in total agony during the Country Music Marathon of '07, and I was determined NOT to look like I was being tortured the entire race.
Anyway, mile 12 came along sooner than I expected, and I was greeted by my cheer team; signs proclaiming that "Melissa Kicks Ass" and "There Will Be Waffles"; and a really horrible band (so the cheer team informed me; I heard approximately 45 seconds of them) that was happily churning out "I Wanna Be Sedated."
Then mile 13 came, and the half-marathoners split off to finish their day. It was then that I realized HOW MANY half-marathoners there were. I think I saw tumbleweeds on the course once they left. Downtown Columbus turned into a ghost town. Mile 13 also marked the first time that I stopped to stretch in the hopes of staving off some IT Band pain. I ran with my coach Terry again for a while and found out that the coaches would be meeting up with me again between mile 22 and 24.
Around mile 14, my IT Bands began yelling at me, and I began wondering "Who the hell thought it was a good idea to run 26.2 miles?" Right. That would be me. I survived a few minutes of mentally kicking myself in the ass (NOT what the cheer team had in mind with their "Melissa Kicks Ass" sign) before I realized that I had at least 2 hours of running left, possibly more if I kept having to stretch and take walk breaks. I could either be really damn miserable the whole time, or I could keep my mind occupied, enjoy the fact that this was MY day, and resume smiling. So I began dedicating miles to people and, in one case, things. This was unbelievably effective. I ran a mile for my parents (including a daylight phone call this time), my cheer team, DH's entire extended family, a friend whose Mom has foregone treatment for her third encounter with breast cancer, friends who donated, my coaches, our team's hero, and a friend's friend who is still in the hospital undergoing treatment for leukemia. And that last .2 miles? That was entirely dedicated to me. It really was an incredibly powerful way to keep myself going. Plus, I have the attention span of a goldfish when I run, so half of each mile was spent trying to remember what mile I was on and who it was dedicated to.
I also ran an entire mile dedicated to the energy gel that kept me moving: Chocolate GU. This stuff alone is reason to continue running. It has the consistency and taste of chocolate brownie batter. Imagine if you will... you're running through urban/suburban Ohio. You've been running for hours. You're hurting. You have very little in the way of creature comforts. Heck, your entire body is coated in gunk just to keep your body from chaffing. Your cheer team is miles away. But wait! Brownies! Someone made brownies, and they're letting you clean the bowl!!! How awesome is that? Why, yes. Yes, I do think I could run another mile. THANK YOU awesome brownie mix! I love you!
Just before mile 22, I met up with my cheer team again and took one of my last stretch breaks of the day while I hung out with them and scarfed the bagel they so kindly delivered.
Shortly after I left my cheering crew, I met up with my coach Kathleen who ran with me through the end. She made me run to earn my walk breaks. She kept me motivated. She told me about how after the first TNT practice, she didn't think I'd make it through the end. And so she celebrated with me that here I was, running a marathon. She pointed out runners on the course to focus on, and one by one we passed them. In short, Kathleen took over when the crazy, euphoric Showcase Showdown voice had packed up and headed home. Terry joined us again around mile 25, and the three of us headed towards the finish line.
The course was configured such that you didn't see the finish line until you rounded a corner roughly 0.1 miles from the end. I rounded the corner. I sprinted. I finished in five hours, fifty-six minutes, and fifty-five seconds.
It was absolutely incredible, and I can't wait to do it again. ;) Running (or walking) a marathon really is something that everyone should do. Keep in mind that before June I had a hard time running a mile, let alone 5, 10, 15, or 26.2. I couldn't have done it without my coaches and Team in Training. I couldn't have done it without the awesome runners on my team. And I couldn't have done it without everyone's support, especially DH's.
So what are you waiting for? Go here. Sign up. I'll donate for your run. Heck, I'll even send you Chocolate GU.
October 19th, 2008 may officially be the best day of my entire life. The weather was beautiful, though a bit brisk in the wee hours of the morning. There was hardly a cloud in the sky. And I ran 26.2 miles powered by four and a half months of training, a positive and determined outlook, the support of many, many family members and friends, an awesome group of coaches, and enough energy gel to power eight little league teams.
Honestly, I've been trying to figure out what to write in this space for over a week, and I'm not sure words can possibly, accurately capture it. But I'll give it a go.
The night before the marathon, all of the Team in Training members met for a pasta dinner. There were 125 people from Ohio running either the half or full marathon the following morning. Awards were distributed to top fund raisers. Collectively, all 125 of us raised $290,000 towards cancer research. Then a woman delivered a presentation that began with the words, "Statistically, I do not exist." Having survived Hodgkins disease, breast cancer, and leukemia, she travelled to our pasta party, inspired us, and thanked us for our hard work and fund raising. It was a very touching experience to say the least.
The morning started early at five AM. As expected, I slept horribly the night before. I do NOT sleep the night before really big long runs. Upon awakening, I asked my roommate, "Our massage is at nine, right? We're really here for a spa weekend, aren't we?" No such luck. Instead we were off to the showers to warm our muscles. Then we headed down for stretching with the team, and I scarfed down a peanut butter granola bar. We collectively headed to the start line, and before I knew it the race was about to began. A band was playing "(You Gotta) Fight for your Right (to Party)" at the start line. Let me tell ya, there's just nothing like screaming along to a Beastie Boys cover at 7:30 on a chilly Sunday morning whilst wearing a trash bag (to conserve body heat). Seriously. Doesn't that sound like the start of a really bad frat boy story? But alas, no alcohol was involved. Just me and 15,000 other
I'd already called Scott while we were waiting at the start line, so when the race started I did what any sane person would do... I called my parents. They, of course, were asleep and not terribly pleased to be hearing from me, but they congratulated me anyway. (They should be glad I was a crazy runner calling at 6:30 CT rather than a drunk college student; the phone call could have accompanied a request for bail). Then I dropped my phone and nearly killed someone who almost tripped over me when I stopped to pick it up. A good time was had by all.
From there, it's really a blur through mile 12. I ran with the 5:30 pace group through mile six when I pulled ahead of them. The miles were punctuated with live bands; water/Gatorade stops; a mile with my coach Kathleen; a mile with my coach Terry; leapfrog with a TNT run-walker and my coach Linda; and, frequent updates from DH and cousins who were en route to Columbus to cheer me on. The course was packed through mile 13 with both marathoners and half-marathoners.
The sheer number of runners makes one very significant difference to me. Forget the enthusiasm of the fellow runners (which was awesome). Forget the hordes of people out cheering (which was awesome). Nope, the sheer number of runners means that statistically, SOME of them are slower than me. So unlike most training runs, I actually got to pass people. It was fantastic (bet you thought I would say awesome, right?), and I was grinning like a fool the entire time.
Yes, I smiled nearly the entire race. For one, it was awesome and I was really, truly happy. Every half mile or so, a voice in my head shrieked in delight, "OMG, you are RUNNING A MARATHON!!!!!!!!! Can you believe it?!?! You're RUNNING A MARATHON!!!!! And you're going to finish!!!! You're totally going to finish it!!!!!!" Who needs an iPod when you've got a voice in your head screaming like you've won the Showcase Showdown? Second, I was smiling because horrible pictures surfaced of me in total agony during the Country Music Marathon of '07, and I was determined NOT to look like I was being tortured the entire race.
Anyway, mile 12 came along sooner than I expected, and I was greeted by my cheer team; signs proclaiming that "Melissa Kicks Ass" and "There Will Be Waffles"; and a really horrible band (so the cheer team informed me; I heard approximately 45 seconds of them) that was happily churning out "I Wanna Be Sedated."
Then mile 13 came, and the half-marathoners split off to finish their day. It was then that I realized HOW MANY half-marathoners there were. I think I saw tumbleweeds on the course once they left. Downtown Columbus turned into a ghost town. Mile 13 also marked the first time that I stopped to stretch in the hopes of staving off some IT Band pain. I ran with my coach Terry again for a while and found out that the coaches would be meeting up with me again between mile 22 and 24.
Around mile 14, my IT Bands began yelling at me, and I began wondering "Who the hell thought it was a good idea to run 26.2 miles?" Right. That would be me. I survived a few minutes of mentally kicking myself in the ass (NOT what the cheer team had in mind with their "Melissa Kicks Ass" sign) before I realized that I had at least 2 hours of running left, possibly more if I kept having to stretch and take walk breaks. I could either be really damn miserable the whole time, or I could keep my mind occupied, enjoy the fact that this was MY day, and resume smiling. So I began dedicating miles to people and, in one case, things. This was unbelievably effective. I ran a mile for my parents (including a daylight phone call this time), my cheer team, DH's entire extended family, a friend whose Mom has foregone treatment for her third encounter with breast cancer, friends who donated, my coaches, our team's hero, and a friend's friend who is still in the hospital undergoing treatment for leukemia. And that last .2 miles? That was entirely dedicated to me. It really was an incredibly powerful way to keep myself going. Plus, I have the attention span of a goldfish when I run, so half of each mile was spent trying to remember what mile I was on and who it was dedicated to.
I also ran an entire mile dedicated to the energy gel that kept me moving: Chocolate GU. This stuff alone is reason to continue running. It has the consistency and taste of chocolate brownie batter. Imagine if you will... you're running through urban/suburban Ohio. You've been running for hours. You're hurting. You have very little in the way of creature comforts. Heck, your entire body is coated in gunk just to keep your body from chaffing. Your cheer team is miles away. But wait! Brownies! Someone made brownies, and they're letting you clean the bowl!!! How awesome is that? Why, yes. Yes, I do think I could run another mile. THANK YOU awesome brownie mix! I love you!
Just before mile 22, I met up with my cheer team again and took one of my last stretch breaks of the day while I hung out with them and scarfed the bagel they so kindly delivered.
Shortly after I left my cheering crew, I met up with my coach Kathleen who ran with me through the end. She made me run to earn my walk breaks. She kept me motivated. She told me about how after the first TNT practice, she didn't think I'd make it through the end. And so she celebrated with me that here I was, running a marathon. She pointed out runners on the course to focus on, and one by one we passed them. In short, Kathleen took over when the crazy, euphoric Showcase Showdown voice had packed up and headed home. Terry joined us again around mile 25, and the three of us headed towards the finish line.
The course was configured such that you didn't see the finish line until you rounded a corner roughly 0.1 miles from the end. I rounded the corner. I sprinted. I finished in five hours, fifty-six minutes, and fifty-five seconds.
It was absolutely incredible, and I can't wait to do it again. ;) Running (or walking) a marathon really is something that everyone should do. Keep in mind that before June I had a hard time running a mile, let alone 5, 10, 15, or 26.2. I couldn't have done it without my coaches and Team in Training. I couldn't have done it without the awesome runners on my team. And I couldn't have done it without everyone's support, especially DH's.
So what are you waiting for? Go here. Sign up. I'll donate for your run. Heck, I'll even send you Chocolate GU.
