10/10/10: The Race Report

Prerace preparation

I am not even sure where to start when attempting to recap yesterday's marathon. At the expo, I guess. There was a sign with a quote from Joan Benoit Samuelson that read, "We are all marathoners." When you got closer, you realized that it had all of our names on it. The sign really resonated with me. I wasn't the fastest runner yesterday by a long shot, but that doesn't change the fact that I am a marathoner. This sign was a huge inspiration to me at the expo on Friday. Really very cool.

Sunday morning I caught the 5:45 "marathon express" Metra train (after sleeping very, very little Saturday night). Got to the race with no trouble and prepared myself for the start. Ran into trouble here as the duct tape I had written my name on (I read that it's fun to have your name on you so that spectators can cheer for you) got stuck to my sweatshirt. I also lost my bandanna somewhere (I sweat a ton so I always carry a bandanna with me when I run). I had considered running with the 5:30 pace group, but then I heard the leader explaining that they were doing a run/walk (why didn't they tell us that when we signed up??), and I was out. I had been on the fence about running with a group anyhow, but I did not train in a run/walk fashion (they were going to be running five minutes and walking one), and I hadn't planned to walk any of the marathon. 

So we were off, and in the interest of keeping this report somewhat brief and interesting, I will spare you the mile by mile blow. I found a bandanna on the ground around mile 2, and after debating the merits of picking it up (after all, someone could have peed on it or something), I decided it looked clean enough and grabbed it. I was well on pace for the first five miles and felt like I could go faster--which was my plan once I got to the halfway point. Going into the marathon, I told the husband that more than anything else, I wanted to avoid having a breakdown where I hit the wall, started crying, and lost all reason for living. Any time goals were really secondary to that first goal. I also wanted to have a good time. To meet these first two goals, I knew I needed to run slower than I wanted to early on in the race so I'd have enough juice to finish. It turned out to be a sound strategy.

I had to pee at the starting line, tried to stop at the first three or four sets of porta potties but couldn't stomach losing the time it would have taken to wait in line. Ended up waiting until mile 5, where I sucked it up and lost TEN minutes in the porta potty line. Bugger.

Around mile 8, I ran into trouble. I went to take my third gel (I'd taken one at the start and one at mile 4)--only to realize my gels were ALL gone. Oops. This was not good. Even better, the first gel aid station wasn't until mile 17 (which, seriously??). I had some gummi bears and some sports beans and just relied on them for a while hoping that somehow the husband would have some gels when I saw him at mile 13 (he didn't). I also ate some stuff that spectators were passing out on the street (a lot of which I hadn't trained with, which you're really not supposed to do).

It was starting to get HOT. At some point, I noticed they'd changed the on-course alert from green (which means good conditions) to yellow (which means "slow the hell down"). Then they changed the alert again to red (which means "we really hope you don't die"). I was doing well through the half-marathon point, running through all the aid stations and still on pace for a 5:40 finish (stupid bathroom stop). My sister and her husband were at mile 10, and I knew Dean, the kids, and my in-laws were at mile 13, so that kept me motivated. I actually didn't see Dean until he started running up alongside me. I really wanted to see the girls so I backtracked a bit so I could say hello. Ella was clearly not enjoying herself (and I guess watching a marathon really is sort of boring, so I'll give her that). It was still really nice to see them and to have them there, and I really appreciate that Dean and my in-laws were willing to bring them downtown and shuffle them all over the city so they could be a part of this momentous day.

Pace tattoo

Mile 14 is where things started to get really tough. From that point on, I walked more than I would have liked to. There were more walkers than runners where I was. I mentioned this to my husband, thinking that maybe it was just my position in the pack, but he said there were really a lot of walkers even 15 or 20 minutes before he saw me. I'm not sure what's typical for a marathon, and I thought maybe my pace had just put me back with people who were walking the whole thing. It's hard to know how much the heat affected people's races, and I haven't had a chance to read any news reports to see what people are saying.

At mile 15 I stopped to use the bathroom, and a race volunteer asked me if I was dropping out (the porta potties were right next to the runner drop-out station). I was like heck no! I told her I'd crawl across that finish line if I had to (though I wasn't in THAT bad of shape!) but that I was finishing. She handed me her full, unopened bottle of water (thanks!), and I headed off to run the 11 (!!) miles to the finish. 

Finally got a gel (vanilla--gross!) at mile 17 but they were completely out of bananas when I arrived at mile 20. Lesson learned: Next time I will secure my gels more carefully and also have the husband bring some backup gels, banana, etc. Around mile 19 or 20, a cop car started driving alongside us screaming through a bullhorn that we needed to keep a 14-minute per mile pace. I was running more like 11 minutes per mile, but I was walking a bit in there too. I had been feeling pretty good up until this point, but that cop made me feel completely discouraged. Like I was going too slow and like they were going to close the course before I could finish. It was a bit of a downer to say the least. I said something to someone running near me, but they looked at me like I was crazy so maybe it didn't bother anyone else.

At mile 21 or 22 something strange started happening to my right arm. I still don't know what it was about. You know how when you hit your elbow you get that weird "funny bone" nerve sensation? That's what this felt like, and it happened intermittently from mile 22 through the finish. It was a pretty uncomfortable sensation, and all I can figure is that it had something to do with the heat or with dehydration since I'm fine now.

I got to mile 24 and thought, "Enough of this run/walk nonsense. Let's run this sucker in!" And so I did. I finished strong and proud. I had a really nice kick at the end there with my faulty Garmin reading in the 9s for the finish-line dash. I accomplished two of my goals: I never really hit a wall where I felt like I couldn't finish. And I had fun. Somewhere along the course, I adjusted my time goal to 6:15, and I finished in 6:09. I left it all out on those streets. I couldn't have given more than I did at any single point along the way, and that, I think, is something to be proud of. I ran into several experienced marathoners on the way home who said they didn't finish, so I have to think the heat played a role in all of our races yesterday. Except maybe the people who finished in 2:20!! 

Unfortunately, we ended up with two (!!) hours to kill before we could catch our stupid Metra back to the suburbs. My in-laws had taken the girls home a few hours earlier (thanks!) though, which was a blessing. I told the husband that if he had texted me to let me know we were going to miss our train, I would have hustled a little more!

The girls were pretty excited when we got home and totally in awe of my medal (although we have a lot of medals floating around our house between Dean's triathlon medals and my half-marathon medals). Sadie is insisting on bringing a photo of me running the marathon to school tomorrow, which I think is pretty neat. This morning Ella was looking at the course map and said, "THAT's how far Mommy ran yesterday?!!"

As for me, I wasn't even off the course yesterday before I was thinking about "next time," which is clearly a sign of insanity. This morning, I am trying very hard not to be a little bummed that so many people finished ahead of me. I really did bring up the tail end of this race. I promised myself I wouldn't detract from my own experience by getting caught up in how slow I was compared to everyone else. And I'm trying (trying!) to stick to that promise.

A few signs I saw on the course yesterday that I loved: "Hey person that I don't know: I am so proud of you!" and "You are all crazy!" and "Your legs are only tired because you are kicking so much ass!" and "Some day you will not be able to do this anymore. Today is not the day."

A photo from the sidelines

Honestly, as I passed by the aid stations with the runners who had dropped out, I did think to myself how lucky I was to be able to keep on running (no matter how slow) because I knew I was seeing people whose marathon dreams had been dashed--at least for that particular day.

And despite the fact that I'm still exhausted and sore from yesterday's race, I am already thinking about what's next, already trying to figure out what my next race will be, what sorts of things I want to focus on next (like speed training!).

Until then though, I will leave you with this: I am a marathoner!!

Marathoner!

Me and the girls post-marathon

I asked Sadie to point to name, neglecting to remember that she can't read
(I did think she'd recognize our last name though!)

A larger shot of the "We are all marathoners" sign. Truly inspiring.