but who is counting...right?
Oh yes...yes, yes, yes. I have decided to take on another marathon. Why? Well...I have self diagnosed myself with a mental disorder not yet named (not yet named because my mental disorder keeps me from thinking of a good name at the moment) , and I have decided that my ultimate goal is to run the Boston Marathon in 2009. So...this gives me something to train for, something to look forward to, and inspiration to keep in shape over the next 2.5 years. What this also gives me is insanity, knee pain, and less time. As I sit in my chair my knee is still swelling from the marathon I ran just 8 days earlier, yet I still feel the desire to do this again.
So whats the game plan? More running, added weight training; a new ab circuit, a stronger deodorant, speed training, and a lot of Ben Gay on ice.
I have debated all day on whether or not to write down the events of my first marathon so soon, because I am still feeling the after effects of what a 26.2 mile run really does to a person, and I didn't want any of the actual realties of the whole day to get overshadowed by my "day after" strife. But, as a mom, you take your time when you can get it, and while the children are being occupied by a mind bending toy, I thought I would get it down.
I have to say that even though, yes, running/walking/crawling 26.2 miles to a finish line takes a long time, it seems like it happened so fast....I barely remember anything about the actual physical running. It can be compared to having a baby, really. You wait, anticipate, plan, dream, get anxious for several months, and then in one day (or approximately 4 and 1/2 hours) its over. You are left wondering what all the worry was about as you waddle your way back to the car.
Heather, Michael and I journeyed to Bar Harbor on the October 13th to pick up our running bibs. Once at the convention center, I quickly realized that running had apparently become very high tech, right down to the armskins (leg warmers for your arms) and the nipple guards (those are just what they sound like). Heather was accosted by several odd people wanting to say off handed remarks to her (as they often do)....like a man who must have been over the ripe age of 100 years who told her randomly that she was on Opium. After many similar encounters, we ate Mexican food in Bar Harbor...a town known for is fresh, Maine seafood (I don't know what I was thinking). Finally, we hit the trail....mapping out the 26.2 mile little stroll we would be taking the next day. The first thing I noticed were the hills. There were a lot of them. They were big. They were long. The next thing I noticed was how long it took us to DRIVE 26.2 miles in the car. A long time. A really long time. Finally, we also got lost. NOT a good sign. We drove home after we found the end line. I bought a pair of Smart Wool running socks in Elsworth hoping they would be my "key" to a successful marathon. I can tell what you are thinking... Could socks be linked with success? Well...I didn't have enough money for the nipple guards, so I went with socks, okay?
I had a hard time falling asleep that night, but before I had time to think about that, the alarm when off the next day at 5:15 AM. I must have gotten up in some kind of denial, because I was pretty calm. As if in less than 3 hours, I wouldn't be doing anything at all but sitting on the couch watching cartoons. But, I must have snapped out of it as we rolled into downtown Bar Harbor because by the time I got there, I felt like I was going to vomit or laugh too much, or cry. I couldn't decide. The guy got on the loud speaker and talked for over 30 minutes thanking this person and that person, and his mother, and his wife and his teachers in high school, and his dog Skippy who had taught him the fine art of "loving" to run. The gun went off and I deliriously started to run in a dream like haze. I did this for several miles where I wasn't even really aware of my legs or my body. The views were pretty, my songs were keeping me going at a good pace, my socks were fabulous, and I was keeping with the pack. On Miles 12 to 13 I turned down my MP3 player and started listening to conversations incognito. One couple was planning what to do next to their "fixer-upper" of a house, women discussed the growing up of their children, and then I realized that someone was talking to me. "Is that your house?" he said as he pointed to a house bigger than any building I had even stepped into, with high hedges and gargoyles, and a golf cart at the front security station. "Yeah...buddy...thats my shack. You should see my summer home." I said as I ran next to him. We both chucked....and we were both out of breath to say anything else to each other. I wondered how these other people were keeping up such lengthy conversations with their partners because I could barely speak niceties to the person next to me. Mile 13 was inspiring because as soon as I crested the hill, I saw my darling husband (and Ethan...a friend who braved the October chill in support). A quick hug got me happily through the next several miles. At mile 16 I noticed some serious tightening. At mile 17 I noticed it some more. By mile 20, I thought if I extended to a stride my legs my brake off mid run. For the first time in 20 miles, I slowed to walk. Walking didn't really ease any pain to be honest. When I saw the hill at mile 21 I thought I was going to cry. I ran, walked, ran, walked, ran. Finally...at the top, I saw some more hill, and then when I got to the top of that landing, I saw another one. I didn't remember these hills from the day before. I am truly convinced that my brain selected them to not be committed to memory for my own protection from reality. At mile 23 I thought if I willed the mile marker to say 24 it would really happen. It didn't. Apparently I have none of the skills Chris Angel does. (haha) On the hill on mile 24 (yes...STILL a hill) I saw a guy playing an accordion and knew I had lost my mind until the person next to be mentioned that he too, knew he had lost it because there was a guy playing an accordion on top of a little cliff on the side of the road. At the next water station I actually stopped in my tracks and asked one of the volunteers if it really was only another 2 miles down the road. "Almost there", she said in a bubbly voice. I smiled nicely, but sarcastically, and pressed on. Seeing the 26 mile marker was so amazing until I realized that I still had .20 miles to go. Somehow, I had forgotten the .20 that was left. I realize now, that the .20 miles is really the most important part you run. As I turned the corner, people were screaming at me. "You made it"...."You did it"..."Wooo Hooo"....all that stuff. All I could think was...Holy Shit! I haven't made it yet. I still have .10 miles to go...anything can happen in .10 miles. ANYTHING. But, it didn't. I saw Michael as I approached the finish line, and I waved ecstatically. I would have missed the finish line and gone strait for him if the guy didn't call my name out over the loud speaker....
This is what all the training leads up to....I almost had forgotten that all this has an end. Alas, it does, and one week from today I will be posting (a) why I will never be running a marathon again, or (b) how I couldn't make it up the last climb at mile 20 because I tripped over my own shoelaces that had not wanted to stop and tie; consequently I did not finish the race, and had to be embarrassingly escorted to the hospital because I needed stitches about my upper eye lid, or (c) how I made it, and am tired, sore, lost the last toe nail to my name, but still triumphed. (Hopefully is the last one, because damn....those other two would kind of suck after all of this.) Ahh...memories! How easy I forget how this whole thing started 7 months ago as a last stitch, desperate effort to see if my body could or would ever go back to its old self. My last "long" run before the marathon today was good. Its funny how 12 miles seems like a relatively short run these days.
