Marine Corps Marathon

This past weekend is one I'll never forget.  I went through the gambit of emotions leading up to and through this weekend - I'm incredibly grateful to have been able to experience the whole thing.  You never know what you're capable of until you push yourself past a point you'd ordinarily say "Uncle"...I had quite a few moments like that - particularly when I smashed up against the dreaded and very real "wall" you might hear marathoners talk about...

The weather on Saturday certainly didn't help to buoy our spirits in anticipation of the Marine Corps Marathon the following day...cold, rainy and snow dotting the sky at times...and everything looked gray.  I contemplated throwing in the towel - I'd done all the training, the race was just the icing on the cake - I can live without icing, right?  Not if my kids were around - which 2 out of 3 were - so I couldn't back down now.  On with the show...

Sunday am, met my brother in law Eric at 6am in the lobby of the hotel - no sign of rain, and I was nearly esctatic...we made a friend from West Virginia as we were walking out the door, shared a cab to the "Foggy Bottom" Metro station and squished into a fully packed train to the Pentagon.  Everyone was buzzing - my favorite part of any race - so my sprits were continually being lifted out of the funk from the day prior...we're really going to do this!

After we squeezed our way off the train, we followed the crowd as diligent lemmings do and walked for quite a while, trying to stay on sidewalks and the road so we wouldn't get our shoes wet or muddy in the grass...after a while we made it to a huge parking lot with porta-potties lining both sides - and as experience dictated, got right in line...I wasn't too terribly cold at this point - I layered up as best I could with "throw-away" clothes I'd eventually ditch at the starting line.  To whomever invented "hot hands":  you are a genius and I hope you are ridiculously rich...those little things kept my hands toasty warm all the way up through mile 7 when I finally pitched them!

Anyway, after I said good luck to Eric (who was on his way to the first corral) and squeezed in the corral with the rest of the 4:10-4:30 goal-timers I was feeling pretty good.  In fact, I was kind of dancing to the beat of the music I was listening to - but don't be fooled - it was all due to nervous energy...and the best part is that I didn't care how ridiculous I looked because I'd likely never see the handful of people around me again.  My toes and balls of my feet had now turned numb...which was a bit concerning, but didn't want to dwell on it too much.  A seemingly eternity later, we were on the move...and as we got to the actual starting line the crowd around me erupted into a big cheer as we all embarked on our 26.2 mile journey around Washington D.C.

I can't really say much about the length of the race itself, only tidbits here and there - Seeing my husband and 2 kids around mile 5, enjoying the scenery from 5-7, enjoying the Marines cheering for us at every mile marker, with everyone responding with a big cheer back (until about mile 10...then the cheers were sparse and small)...hearing the sneaker-patter against the pavement and thinking it sounded like soft raindrops on the roof, having to go to the bathroom from about mile 6 on (and since there was a long line at every porta-potty available, decided to keep pushing on), reaching the half marathon mark and attempting to mentally gear up for a "whole new race", feeling my hamstrings get progressively tighter right around mile 13, FINALLY stopping to use the porta-potty at mile 14 and losing 4 minutes in the process...

Then...the dreaded wall.  Mile 17.  When the thought came into my mind:  "This is STUPID".  It was a complete mental battle thereafter - I wanted to quit.  The next medic tent was mine - they could call Mike, he'd pick me up and we could call it a day.  No harm done. 

No.  I couldn't quit.  I had to save face - all my splits were being posted on Facebook & Twitter (did that on purpose because I knew I'd need the extra motivation), I couldn't quit in front of my kids...just keep going.  One foot in front of the other.  Don't be a baby....what ever I could think of, I tried it...being nice, being mean, pleading...reminding myself there are millions of people out there that don't ever get this opportunity...and an especially meaningful quote from a fellow PACER member Cassy Bush, "Chemotherapy is way harder than 26.2 miles".

Stopping to stretch a few times, I kept getting more and more disappointed I was losing ground with my time - but I had to stop and walk as well - my legs were so stiff and my feet were hurting - I thought for sure walking would feel better...and it did for a bit, but after a while running felt better...so I walked and ran, but kept putting one foot in front of the other - still waging war with myself in my own head...

Eventually got over the bridge into Crystal City - gobbled down a few chocolate munchkins (DELICIOUS but hard to eat when you have cotton mouth) and willed myself forward...mile 24, mile 25!  ONE MILE LEFT!  Oh crap!  One mile still to go!  Keep going...you can run this in...no more walking, no more stretching...RUN!

Our expressions upon seeing "the hill"

Finally - mile 26...only two tenths of a mile to go...but it's...uphill!  I knew it would be uphill, but I had no idea how BIG that hill would look!  So I put my head down, gathered up whatever I had left and ran up the hill...crested the top, saw the actual finish line and immediately broke into tears...Ugh...but that finish line was such an incredible sight, I'm pretty sure it's a vision I'll remember for the rest of my life.  Crossing over that line - having pushed myself mentally & physically as much as I did, was an experience I'll be forever grateful for. 

As I and the rest of the finishers around me shuffled through the chute, we received a foil blanket, a medal and photos were taken to commemorate our experience...while ordinarily I'd have loved to relish the moment, all I wanted was to find my family - and sit down.  I'm pretty sure these marathon planners include LOTS of walking in the grand scheme of the finish line to ensure we keep moving lest we stop, sit, and never get back up again. 

After an eternity, I made it up and out to the top where the runners and spectators could finally mingle and I heard Mike's voice - I looked over and saw my family and promptly broke into tears again...vowing "never" to do "this again".  Mike just laughed, gave me a hug, and all was right with the world. 

Until I tried to sit down.

Let's just say it's now day 4 post-race and I'm finally able to walk down the stairs without holding onto the railing for dear life.


Finished, and with a happy hug from kid #2

All in all, I'm pretty happy overall - I beat my first marathon time (11 years ago) by 40 minutes, and I'm glad I was able to talk myself out of quitting...and...even though I said never again...hmmm....