Hook, Line & Sinker

Adrenaline is one heckofa thing.

I went from feeling like I was struggling to "plod" along on a 6 mile training run at 9 minutes per mile to running a full 13.1 miles averaging 8:45 per mile...and feeling GREAT nearly the entire time!  The hype, excitement and maybe what you'd call a buzz in the air the day of a big event is something that I have come to love - and look forward to every year. 

I think it all started when, almost 11 years ago, I ran the NYC Marathon in honor of a HS friend who passed away from complications from Acute Promyelocytic Leukemia...at age 23.  I wasn't much of a running enthusaist then...in fact, I think I might have run as far as 5 miles once or twice, but that's about it.  After my friend passed it was quite a shock to my sheltered self - this was not the result of a car accident or old age - this was a seemingly robust, healthy kid who had her whole life ahead of her...how in the world could something like this happen? 

I worked in a building adjacent to the hospital where she recieved her chemo treatments, and had the opportunity to visit her often.  Often at first...but then as she got more sick from the treatments, I wanted to give her more space - and it was difficult to see her vibrancy fade away the longer she was there.  I have to give kudos to the nurses, doctors and staff who oversee those patients...it's a special breed of person to work in that environment for any length of time.  After her 3rd and final round of chemo, she got very sick and developed blood clots which eventually traveled to her brain, causing her death. 

Her passing was tough...tough to come to terms with and tough to face the fact that I and my peers were not invincible or immune to disease...sure, we all made stupid mistakes like driving too fast or taking dumb risks, but ultimately those things were under our control, whereas things such as leukemia were not.  Disease happened to other, older people.  Not 20-somethings.

Fast forward a month or two...a few people at the gym were discussing putting their names into the lottery for the NYC marathon that fall...would I be interested in putting mine in, too?  What!?  A MARATHON?  That's how many miles?  Someone mentioned something about Team In Training...and I thought how cool it would be to do something in my friend's honor...but a
m-a-r-a-t-h-o-n?  Yeesh.  That's really far...

I think in a moment of pure bravado, without truly thinking...I said I was in...it was only a lottery after all...what would be the chances I'd get picked?  Ha!  I'm pretty sure I cried a little when I got my official entry notice in the mail (as in Oh, CRAP!).  Now I had to do it.  No turning back...so I promptly told as many people as I could that I was going to do it so I couldn't back out...

I signed up with TNT (Team in Training) and bought a book for "first time marathoners", enlisted the help of a marathon veteran (my father in law) and mapped out a training plan.  I mapped out my long runs by odometer...I "planted" bottles of gatorade and bananas along my training routes...strategically placed areas on my route where bathroom accessibility would likely be needed, nursed bruised toes, tight IT bands and cranky knees...and still remember the triumph of completing my one and only 20 miler...after which I promptly took a long nap (while Mike raked the many, many leaves in our yard).  Most often, though...I thought of my friend.  She was the reason I was out there...I was able to see some beautiful sunrises I never would have if it weren't for her.  I never would have thought I could run more than 6 miles if it weren't for her.  I wouldn't have appreciated the fact that I could get up, get out of bed in the morning and just run anywhere I wanted to if it weren't for her.  I had so much to be thankful for...and she made me realize it.  It was an incredible gift.

So, fast forward again to November 2, 2000.  My very first experience with a HUGE endurance event...thousands of people everywhere.  I was so nervous I hardly slept the night prior...it also didn't help that I had just come down with a cold and my throat was on fire.  At the starting line, or should I say village, there were people everywhere...hanging out...some jogging around, some just sitting down and chatting over some bagels and bananas...there was even a huge tent with a mass being said inside (jam-packed, by the way)...but man, was it COLD.  Shivery cold...and overcast...miserable to me then, but probably a great racing day for those competitive runners. 

I remember being corralled like cattle and shuffled over to the Verrazano Bridge and then all of a sudden...time to go!  Everyone jogged a little...then walked a bit...even had to stop short a couple of times because everyone else just...stopped.  Then it was jog..weave...jog...jump over some water bottles, dodge some clothing left behind...sidestep some other garbage, but don't forget to try to look out and appreciate the amazing view from the bridge!  There was a sea of people in front, next to and behind me...as far as the eye could see.  Not to mention the last minute "relievers" who likely didn't get in the porta-potty line early enough and had to veer off  along the course for nature's calling.  Very strange.

So I tried to soak in the experience as much as possible...and thus remember a few parts vividly...around mile 5 when two girls running nearby decided they'd had enough and quit (ugh!), mile 7 where my father in law proudly jumped in and ran a stretch with me, the Queensborough Bridge where it was so depressing breathing in the exhaust fumes and running uphill in the dark I almost quit, but right after emerging into a bar-dense part of town lined with TONS of people cheering and then seeing my sister in law jump the fence to join me...the sun coming out for just a bit after that...after crossing into the Bronx the guy yelling that we were all awesome because we'd just come into Yankee territory, Mike jumping in with Amy to bring me all the way into Central Park (which wound up as the longest distance he'd ever run)...having to stop and stretch around mile 20 because my hamstrings were cramping terribly...not having enough strength to even keep my jaw closed because I was so tired after mile 24...coming into Central Park and hearing people yell "GO KELLY!" because I wore my friend's name on the front of my shirt, then crying not only because they were yelling and cheering for her, but that I was almost there, and I hurt like hell.  The finish line of that race was the most incredible, welcome sight I'd ever seen...and I had done it.  A marathon.  All because of my friend.

I hobbled around for the next few days...high from what I had accomplished...but vowed never to run another again.  In fact, I think it was over a year until I put my sneakers on again to run just a little bit.  I didn't hate it..but didn't love it either...and still felt pretty burned out from the whole experience.  It took a while...8 years, in fact...but eventually signed up for a half marathon in 2008.  Training for and running the Lehigh Valley Half was much different from a whole marathon, and after the race, I was HOOKED.  The commitment wasn't too much, it was a distance that did take training to cover, but didn't steal most of my time, and I really liked the feeling of accomplishment and actually running again. 

Since 2008, I've completed 7 half marathons and this year have mustered up the courage to try another full length marathon.  Training is quite different this go-round, but definitely takes up a lot of time.  I'm actually enjoying my long runs on the weekends and find my thoughts periodically travel back to my friend, sometimes just for a brief moment...but when they do, I always tell her hello and thanks.  I owe her a lot.