So. The suspense was building all summer and part of the Fall. I myself was a mixture of nerves and unwarranted confidence leading up the race. A few weeks before the race, I ran 16 miles as a practice race. I didn't move for 48 hours afterward. It was miserable. I kept trudging along, secretly hoping I'd get sick or have a loved one die so I could justifiably bail on the marathon. Two weeks after running 16 miles, I ran 20 miles for practice and actually felt amazing. Tara and I finished 20 in 3:29 --which is right on par with Oprah's time frame. After taking an ice bath, my muscles felt nearly perfect and I barely experienced any soreness. Bring it on, I tempted the looming marathon. Bring. It. On.
And it was brrrrought. That marathon kicked my butt so hard that at one point I found myself saying, "If I had any fluid in me at all right now, I'd be crying." That was about mile 19. Mile 23 happened and I found just enough fluid within me to cry as I ran. Yes, I cried. As I ran. The beginning of the marathon had been great. Though runners were ON THEIR PHONES, TEXTING, and NOT EVEN ATTEMPTING TO RUN UP HILLS--IN SAN FRANCISCO, I felt like a pro. I passed the slow pokes, sometimes even jumping up curbs to pass people, and at mile 13 I felt like I could have kept running for the rest of my life. But there's just something that happens to a body at about mile 20 when everyone you pass is yelling, "You're almost done!!" yet you know you still have 60 minutes straight of running ahead of you. My ankle was on fire, my hips felt like they rusted shut, and my knees easily could have been Nancy Kerriganed and I wouldn't have felt the difference. Surprisingly, even at the finish line, my endurance was still going strong; I wasn't out of breath at all.
I'm glad I ran the race in the same way I'm glad I'm done with high school. Lived through it, got stronger, and most importantly, done with it.
4:30am getting ready for the race
So far so good
Thank god it's over!!!