5:52:24

I think I'm ready to talk about it now.

As I started training for this day many months ago I expected there to be changes in my life. However, I didn't think one of those changes would be turning me into a weepy emotional mess! But it seems that every Saturday that I ran a super long run, I would also have an emotional breakdown. Good grief. Anyway, race day was no different.

The number one rule that you learn while training is not to do ANY thing different race day than how you trained. Don't try any new foods, drinks, socks, nothing. You want race day to be familiar and predictable. Because of this I was very leery of running with a pace group. A pace group is led by a "pacer". A pacer is someone who is capable of running crazy fast but chooses to run slower than normal to lead your group at a certain mile pace. If you stick with your pacer then you are guaranteed to cross the finish line at the designated time.

Backtrack....Several weeks ago I ran the Papa John's 10 miler. I kicked butt at the Papa John's 10 miler! I ran faster and stronger than I've ever run before and it felt great. Sad that I had to train for 26.2 miles to run a strong 10, but whatever. During the race I never felt like I was going fast. But sure enough, my time was a full 90 seconds faster per mile than my average. That's a lot in running world.

Because of my Papa John's experience I was a little afraid of starting off too fast with the hype of the crowds. Even though I have never run with another group and always trained alone, I broke the steadfast rule and ran with a pace group. I will never know if this helped me or hindered me, but I am so glad I did it. My pace group was awesome! The pacers were both wonderful and the group of 5 runners were so much fun. We had Police guy, Superman, Bourbon Chase, Pink girl and myself. (Later I did find out their real names). We formed our own little posse and joked, laughed and encouraged one another. At about mile 6, I had to veer off to find a port-a-potty. I was so afraid of losing my pace group that I literally sprinted an entire mile until I caught up with them. Probably not the best idea to sprint early on in the race, but I think it was worth whatever damage it caused to be back with my group.

So we're running and having a great time. The miles are ticking by. One of my favorite moments was at the split. I have run several 1/2 marathons and I always remember the split. This is where the 1/2 people go towards the finish line and the full marathoners keep chugging on to their next 13.1 miles. Every time I've passed the split I've thought, "whew! So glad I'm almost done!". But this time I split the other way. And it felt good. (Maybe because the split was at mile 8 instead of 13?) Anyway, it was a cool feeling to be one of "those guys" that went the other way. Out of 16,000 runners, only 2,000 of us made that split.

Around mile 17 I started to feel a little nauseous. This was new for me. Even during my long training runs, my stomach felt fine. After I got home, I sometimes felt queasy but not during. But on race day my tummy wasn't happy. I kept going and it kept getting worse. At mile 20 I needed to stop. My pacers saw it coming and started trying to talk me off the ledge at mile 19. They told me stories, they gave me pointers, they told me everything was going to be just fine. They tried to get me past the inevitable, but it just didn't happen. At mile 20, I. HIT. THE. WALL.

The wall is no joke.

I have read article after article that talks about the wall and how not to hit it. But I did anyway. Naively, I thought the wall was just mental and I'd have to push through. Nope, it's physical too. The nausea was just the precursor. At mile 20 I told my pace group I just needed to stop for a minute and I would try and catch back up. The second that my mind gave my body permission to stop, everything crumbled.
The tears came first. Exhausted, tired, icantbeliveihavesixmoremilestogo tears.
And then every negative thought I've ever had came into my head at once. You're stupid. You're a loser. You'll never get there. All that training for nothing. I can't believe you left the pace group.
And then my brain actually communicated with my legs and found out that they were on strike. Walking hurt. Running was impossible.
More tears.
More bad words.
Repeat for 2 miles.

And then two things happened. I finally figured out that I had to do something faster than walk and cry or I would be out there until midnight And I saw my friend JLH. She had just run her first 5K several weeks ago and was going to run her second 5K with me at miles 22-25 of the marathon. I knew I was about to get yelled at (in a good way) so I figured I should start jogging. From here on out, the terms "jogging" and "running" are mere suggestions of a movement that was slightly bouncier than walking and extremely painful.
So I'm jogging. At this point I can't even keep that up for very long but I try to go as long as possible, walk a little and jog again. Spencer had met me at several checkpoints along the course and found us again at mile 24.5. I've never been a fan of those guys who finish a race and then double back on the course to find their wife/girlfriend/etc and run with her to the finish. But let me tell you, I was very happy to see him at that moment. So he and JLH are trying to keep me from hopping in one of the police escort cars to get a ride to the finish line. I wish I had better details of the end of the race but all I can remember is the ouch, ouch, ouch of my legs and complete sense of frustration and failure that I felt for being in such a bad predicament.

But I finished. 5 hours, 52 minutes and 24 seconds.

I crossed mile at 20 at 4 hours. I think it's interesting to do the math and see how drastic those two parts of the race were. 20 miles in 4 hours and then 6 miles in 1hr, 52 min. There was no slow decline at all, but instead a big cliff where I fell off the wagon!

Now...days later I'm no longer upset. In fact, I'm very proud to have finished and am already looking forward to doing another one. Maybe next spring? Or the next? Training is a big commitment and Spencer and I have to split who's training for what and when, so I'll have to get with him. My next goal is just to run faster. I know I'll never be a Boston Qualifier, but maybe run a 10 minute mile? I think that's reasonable.

Me and the pace group. Pacers (Glenda and Roger) up front in orange. Police guy in grey between them. Superman in blue. Pink girl on the outside. Bourbon Chase in orange in the back and me with orange shirt and black shorts.

 Me and Roger coming out of a water stop and catching up to the rest of our group.

 Done!