All the worry, anxiety, excitement, and anticipation that went into this race--it was worth every moment! Every time I dragged myself out of bed before dawn over the summer, every sun and sweat drenched step, every ache and pain--it was all worth that feeling of elation after I crossed the finish line, that laugh/cry overwhelmed feeling of accomplishment.
There's so much I could say about the days leading up to the race. I was a crazy bundle of out-of-control nerves. I imagined finishing the race the way I imagined passing master's comps last fall, or the way I imagined Obama winning in '08, like some kind of barely possible but overwhelmingly wonderful possibility that I was a bit insane to even hope for.
J and Ty dropped me off at the starting line at about 4:45 am on race morning. I stood around a bit numb and half-listened to the conversations around me. Lots of glow sticks and flashing lights. I took the LED flashlight that J had lent me out of my pouch and held it as I followed everyone to the start. I don't remember a gun or a horn--everyone just kind of started to run.
I started out wearing a pattellar strap around my knee. Not far in, maybe three or four miles, it started to hurt. The strap kept slipping down and the pain, while not bad, was too bad for the first few miles. I felt a moment of panic---no way was I going to finish. How foolish to even try! I slipped off to the side and swapped the strap for a neoprene brace I had slipped under my belts.
Immediately I felt better and kept on going. The sensory experience of running through the dark like that was interesting. We passed a dog at the end of one driveway, barking at everyone going by. Not chasing or growling, just barking at the strange stream of runners. It slowly grew light. I turned the light off as the morning grew gray around us.
It started to rain very lightly. Every time we came up to a water table, the people running it would cheer and clap. I ticked off the miles in my head, wondering at what point I'd feel like there was a chance I would make it. My planned 20 miler ended at 16.75 when I couldn't go any further. My 18 miler felt like ancient history. But I was pretty much pain free for most of the race. At about the 9 mile point or so, I found myself moving along at a nice comfortable pace of 11:30. The two people near me seemed nice, so I gathered up some courage and asked if I could hang with them for a while. They were amazingly friendly and encouraging, a man and his daughter, Marathon Maniacs from Alabama. Running with them was cool because every time maniacs would pass from the other direction (the fast people on their way back already!) they would yell at each other and cheer. We reached the 13.1 turnaround, passed through a checkpoint, and headed back. I stayed with the Alabama Maniacs for a bit longer and then pulled ahead.
The rain picked up. It never poured, but it got steady enough for a while to soak my face and completely water-log me. I swiped my face and considered taking off my shirt to do a better job, but didn't. The rain wasn't bad and I was just happy that the sun wasn't beating down.
Around mile 19 I came up to a guy wearing a Little Rock Half-Marathon shirt, so I said hi to him. He was Michael from Benton, another lone first-timer like me. We passed the 20 mile mark together, celebrating the realization that we could walk the rest of the race and still finish in the time limit. As we passed the next water table, I felt elated. I told one of the girls there, "I think we just might finish this race!"
Michael decided to walk for a while, so I headed on alone. I wasn't going fast but I was keeping steady, and I came up on several people walking along the way. They were all encouraging, and it was great to know that walk-breaks were common, that runners in my time range are cool with taking it easy and just keeping on.
It's hard to describe my mindset at this point. As I'd pass a mile-marker, I would say to myself, Just a five mile run, you can do a five mile run. Just a four mile run....They kind of ticked themselves away to my mostly mindless, sort of disbelieving, hopeful jog. I had told J to be back at the start by 9:30 because, while I had no finishing goal, I figured 4:30 was the soonest I would be done. I checked the time now and then and mostly couldn't believe I was doing it and still close to being on track.
I decided to walk at around 24 miles. I was tired and my knee was hurting. I slowed to a walk, but it didn't feel any better. Fatigue wasn't much of a problem and my knee still hurt when I walked, so I moved back into a jog.
I passed the 26 mile point and could see and hear the end. I started to tear up. I kept trying to fight it back, telling myself that I didn't want to look ridiculous in the finish line photo. J and Ty were standing right by the finish line, and as soon as I passed it, they came around. Ty hugged me and I started sobbing and laughing at the same time. J kept trying to get me to look at her for pictures, but it took me a while to calm down. Finally, I hobbled over to sit down and take off my soaked shoes and socks. And find a beer (most certainly the only time I've ever opened a beer before 10:00 am!).
Everything about the experience was amazing. I had spent the last three weeks before the race sort of mourning the feeling that I thought I would have had if my knee had never acted up. Thinking about how excited I would have been, how strong I would have felt. How pumped I would have been. Then I realized that, obviously, I could have made the 20 miler and tapered and come into the race feeling strong---and then my knee could have messed up during the race. And I wouldn't have been able to finish. So really, I learned some stuff about having faith and going for it and not knowing the outcome.
I spent a lot of the last 5 miles or so reminding myself to look around. I thanked God, the trees, the universe---everything--for allowing me to be there. I had such a feeling of peace and gratitude. J was such a support--I never would have made it without her (literally, she told me to bring the brace and so I did), and everyone who encouraged me and celebrated with me or for me throughout training was hugely inspirational and very much appreciated.
I'm spending about 10 days resting before I get back out there. The alien blister on my second toe is nearly gone and my knee, though not perfect, is good. I hope to be back out there next week, and this afternoon I found another marathon in Mississippi that is maybe calling my name. We'll see!
