My strategy was to take a walk break at every mile between 13 and 20, then run nonstop the final 6.2. So I started taking walk breaks, and I was thankful for them because there were a lot of hills in the last half of this marathon. They weren't huge hills, but they were pretty frequent. I slowed gradually and considerably. I knew my time would not be as good because of the walk breaks, but even my running time was getting slower and slower. The pain in my knees and feet was becoming more intense, and the good spirits I had when I met up with Adam at mile 13 were beginning to take a turn for the worse.
I focused on moving forward. I had heard a girl back around mile 11 say "Pain is just the weakness leaving your body." While this had motivated me for a few miles, all I could think at this point was that I'd used up all my strength ridding my body of weakness!
The miles still seemed to pass quickly even though I was running them much more slowly. I had the occasional conversation with other runners as I passed them or they passed me. The field had thinned greatly since we passed the halfway point and most of the runners finished their half-marathon. I found myself surrounded by the same group of people most of the time, which was kind of comforting even though they were still strangers.
Before I knew it, I was at mile 20. I had dreaded this because I knew there was no stopping. Of couse, I was excited, too, because it was farther than I'd ever run before, and I knew the end was so close.
Miles 20-23 went okay, although I was shuffling more than running. I kept trying to focus on increasing the turnover of my steps and being lighter on my feet. But by mile 23, I could not feel anything except the pain in my feet. My legs were numb and felt very unsteady. My hips wobbled with any misstep. It was all about not falling over...
I came to mile 25 and was having hard time staying composed. Shortly after, I stumbled on a bump in the road (literally) and nearly fell. If I'd hit the ground, there's no way I would have been able to get up. Luckily and miraculously, I remained on my feet. It was downhill the last several blocks, I passed the 26-mile marker and rounded the corner into AutoZone park. I had just a tad bit of kick left and was able to actually jog instead of shuffle across the finish line. My body immediately tightened up and I just wanted to get off my feet. A lady removed my timing chip, a man appeared to my right and asked if I was okay. I couldn't speak, so I just numbly shook my head yes, although I wasn't really. Someone put a mylar blanket over my shoulders and a medal was around my neck. I spotted Adam in the crowd, and then some guys wanted to take my picture with two men dressed like Elvis.
A volunteer helped me up the first step into the stands, and I made my way to Adam. I reached him and just collapsed into tears.
This was it? When I finished the Olympic-distance triathlon and even the miniMarathon, I got a sense of exhilaration, an adrenaline rush that outweighed the pain. They were fun, and I was able to appreciate the hard work that went into them, able to enjoy the experience and feel great about myself and my efforts. This was miserable. It was not fun, it was one of the biggest letdowns I'd ever felt.
The next 48 hours were pretty bad...I hurt like I'd never hurt before, and I was definitely having a case of post-marathon blues. People were asking me if I'd do it again, and I couldn't answer for fear of bursting into tears. When we got home from Memphis, my January issue of Runner's World had arrived, and I thought I was going to vomit.
Now that some time has passed, my body is less sore, and I've read my RW magazine, I actually feel proud of the fact that I'm a marathon finisher. I worked my butt off for six months and did everything I could. Yes, I wish I'd had a better performance, but I honestly did my best. I told Adam it's like if I had lessons twice a day for the rest of my life I'd never be a good singer. Unfortunately, that seems to be the case with running for me. The work ethic is certainly there, the talent just isn't. It is very humbling.
I am proud that I was committed to a goal, which was to spend 2007 working on my weakness: running. I know I've improved. I've increased my speed, my confidence, and my endurance. It's bad to end it on a low note. BUT, there is that silver lining: I know I can do any distance set before me. I also maintained a faster pace during the marathon than I did during the run of my first triathlon.
I feel a little more positive every day. And I am so thankful for my husband, family, and friends that supported my during my training. Adam had to sacrifice a lot, and he never once complained.
I am a marathoner, and that is something no one can ever take away. But I'm thrilled beyond belief to get back to my life and be a wife, daughter, and friend again.
