Marathon

So, here it is.  The moment finally arrived.  18 weeks of training, minus a few weeks in the middle nursing some aches and pains.  But, I think that when you are gearing up for this it sort of absorbs you mentally and physically.  So, even if you aren't running at certain times, you are thinking about it.  Sometimes you wonder if you should quit the training and just go back to shorter stuff.  Then your training partners tell you they will kill you if you drop out.  There is no better motivation than having great people to run with and the threat of death.  Add your own motivation to the mix and the thought that you will let the people down that you made a commitment to and there you have what I think is the perfect marathon training program.  For a runner like me, it is scary.  I like the shorter stuff.  I just got comfortable with half marathons.  The last half marathon was awesome but painful, so how is it possible to run another 13 miles on top of that?  These are just some of the thoughts in my mind.  I can't even sleep for 4 hours straight, how can I run that long?  People tell you all the stories of people who die.  They ask why you would want to crap your pants when you run that long.  Then they don't understand when you tell them it is only the really good and fast runners who crap their pants.  Or the ones who just had a really unfortunate accident and thereby crapped their pants.  I tell them that if I gotta go that bad, I'm stopping.  My time isn't going to be that important to me that I can't stop to unload.  Luckily that kind of thing has never happened to me.  I must say that at mile twenty of the marathon yesterday, it did smell like some people pooped their pants.  Runners can stink.

We went up on Saturday and picked up our race packets.  Then we listened to some people talk about the course and how to handle it.  Some very good and accomplished runners.  Unfortunately, the race director loved to hear himself talk, so the runners didn't get to say as much as I would have liked, or as they would have liked.  Then they had a question and answer period.  There were some good questions.  I wanted to ask what the best way to drop out of the race this late would be.  Or, stand up to ask a question and sprain my ankle.  Spraining my ankle in front of everyone would be a great excuse.  I would have to really put a good act on.  "It's not that bad, I can run.  Let me run." I would say, but keep falling down.  I have a real fear of public speaking, so the thought of acting hurt scared me too much.    Later we went to dinner, which was really nice.  This was also the time that everything started to seem really real.  I am supposed to run 26.2 miles in the morning.  I can't do that.  I don't want to do that.  I just want to go to sleep in the nice hotel.  I can cheer for the others and be really supportive.  These were just some of my thoughts.  Everyone with me said it would be fine and I kind of knew they were right.  It would take a lot for me not to finish.

I don't think any of us slept too well.  Then up to meet the bus at 5 A.M.  Long bus ride from the finish line to the start.  If the bus ride was this long, imagine the run.  I don't like this bus ride.  Why would I like running this far?  The mountains are huge.  Is it going to rain.  If it rains and is cold as they were saying it could be, would I die of exposure at mile 18?  Should I bring a survival kit in case I had to walk or should I just lay down and let peaceful sleep take over my body?  Go to the light, Bobby.  You have run far enough.  These were a combination of my thoughts and what I think God would be saying to me.  Come to the light.  You are old and slow and you should know better.  I planted in your mind that you should concentrate on 5k's, but you didn't listen.  So, come on home.  At one point, I started to shake a little, because I got nervous.  That went away quickly.  I actually attribute that to adrenaline.  I have had these kind of feelings before almost every important sports event I have done.  You get pumped up and there comes a point that you are ready to go.  Long weeks of training and anticipation and you are ready to go.

Then, the gun finally goes off.  In this case it was a cannon.  They tell you not to go too fast, because the first miles are mostly down hill, but it is hard not to go fast, because it feels good to be moving.  I got through the first 8 miles and felt pretty good.  My legs were a bit tired because I probably did go out too fast.  I just wanted to get the first half marathon over and they start clicking off the miles.  Anything past 16 miles was uncharted territory for me.  I never got past 15.84 miles in my training.  15.84!!  I could not even get to the round number of 16.  But I was sure  that my cross training would carry me the other 10, even if I had to walk.  At least I hoped so.  It is amazing really to see the miles add up.  They start to become something other than a length of distance.  Hard to explain.  Every mile marker is like a finish line of its own.  Then you set a goal of getting to the next one and then the next one.  At mile 20, I thought I had it in the bag.  6 more miles.  All I had to do to get a sub-4 hour time was maybe 9 1/2 minute miles or somewhere thereabouts.  Not a piece of cake, but almost there.  It doesn't take long, however, to remember that 6 miles is nothing to sneeze at.  It just doesn't sound like a lot in comparison to 26.2  Especially at the tail end of a grueling run.  My legs started to cramp up.  I had to walk more, so I wouldn't cramp up totally.  I made a point of never totally stopping, to keep  walking and stretch it out.  I had a blister so bad on my right foot that it felt like I stepped on a nail.  I  kicked up my foot to look at the bottom of my shoe and my hamstring cramped into a knot.  Once the cramp went away I told myself I like the blister pain way more than the cramp pain.  With three miles left, my calves started cramping.  One then the other.  I had to walk every quarter mile or so or they would have totally cramped up.  Frustrating to have your body not cooperate with your brain.  I forced myself to be smart so I could finish.  I could not even imagine coming that far and not finishing, but I could actually see how that could happen.  At around that point a guy handed me a beer told me to drink it.  The carbs would be good.  The crowd was awesome and supportive the whole way.  At that section, they were partying and I took the beer.  I knew I would be hobbling to the finish and it felt like a combo of celebrating that I made it that far and that it would be nice to consume something other than water, Gatorade and GU.  At around mile 24, I got a little choked up.  Lots of thoughts crowded my brain.  My incredible training partners, the fact that I was doing something that I really didn't want to do, but was driven to do for some reason and many  other things.  Mile 25 finally came and I knew I was going to finish.  The last mile seemed like three.  People kept telling me the finish line was just ahead, but it wasn't.  I know people have great intentions, but when they say I am almost done and I'm not...I want to kill them.  Then, finally the finish line.  Incredible feeling.  It is over.  Into the tent and grab some food.  Then find the people you came with and trained with.  Could not have shared this with a greater and more supportive group.  Angie, Christina, Alison, Mel and Dave all running, finishing and kicking ass.  Gayle and Gayle along the way cheering and taking pictures.  Some of the running group I am in(BCR), and other friends emailing and Facebooking support.  I really appreciate those who gave a shout out.

I honestly was not totally sure I would finish.  It kicked my ass.  I finished in 4:27:40.  Not exactly what I wanted, but it was the best I had.  I am also left with a total respect and appreciation for anyone who does this.  I said I will never do another, but I probably lied.