“The world could use more people like you; that’s what we need.”

A mile or so into my first marathon, from a front porch spectator, we were graced with these words. The glory of the marathon was at hand.

The night before, Joy and I shared a room with our friends Karin and Chad. Karin ran the Green Bay marathon last year and was excited to watch me run my first one this year; we had run together in high school. With Teslin, their dog Jake, and Houston (who they were dogsitting) in the room, there was some excitement before bed, but we eventually all crashed around midnight.

5:20 am, I woke everyone up. I had to eat, get some fluids in me, and make sure we got to the start in plenty of time. Despite my nerves starting to get frazzled, we were on Capitol Square by about 6:45, and we met up with another couple, Ann and Scott.

I found my pace leader, Eric, and headed into the starting corral. We shook hands and the racers gathered. At 7:10, we were off.

The first several miles were a blast. Eric set a pace to finish in 3 hours and 40 minutes, which was an 8:23/mile average. I’d been a little concerned because that was a little on the aggressive side and I wasn’t sure I could hold up. But with the energy of the runners around me, the miles just slipped on by (cruising through mile 8). I mean, there were a few little hills in there that weren’t any fun, but for the most part it was easy going.

We zipped on through Madison. Joy and the rest of the gang caught me in several places (mile 10) and the cheering was just such an awesome feeling. Thanks to Eric’s pacing, I destroyed my half marathon time: 1:49:53 (previous was 1:55:17).

I think it was around mile 15 when I realized “holy crap, there’s still 11 miles to go!” But then I decided that this was somehow delicious. Honestly, I have no idea what I’m doing in either picture.

I finally fell behind the pace group around mile 15. I was simply running out of energy and couldn’t keep up anymore. But I was happy; I had done so much better at this point than I had anticipated, and I could still make my goal of breaking four hours quite easily. Well, easily as long as nothing went wrong.

Somewhere between miles 16 and 17 I encountered the Monroe Street hill. It killed me. I don’t know how big this hill is other than it took me forever to crest it, and when I did, nothing was the same. Within a mile, my left knee started to fail to cooperate. Not long after, it convinced my quads in both legs to start randomly seizing up, so I had to break up the monotony with some walking and cursing. This would be the end, my friends.

For the next 8-plus miles, I ran, walked, and hobbled my way through. At times the pain was excruciating. All I wanted to do was fall down on the side, throw up, and wait for someone to shoot me. I wanted to quit and never run again. But since that wasn’t realistically going to happen, I instead kept going. When the four-hour pace group passed me at mile 22 and I couldn’t keep up with them, I decided, “all that matters now is finishing. I HAVE TO FINISH.”

So that’s what I did. When the final stretch came into view, I started to run, right through all the pain. Karin was cheering me on and running along the sidelines. What I really wanted her to do was shut up so I could concentrate on running, but her enthusiasm and energy pushed me harder anyway.

And then it was over. Someone was handing me a bottle of water, someone else was putting a medal around my neck, and I was gently guided to have my timing chip clipped off my shoe. I looked dumbly at my watch. 4:15. Not what I had hoped for, but I was so proud of myself for finishing. I’d done it - I’d run a marathon.g

I meandered through the “runner’s village” and got some food before I headed out to find my people. Karin, Ann, and Scott found me instead and led me back to Joy, Chad, and Tes. We collapsed under a tree and I ate my bagel and ham sandwich, took off my shoes, and reveled in the company of my friends.

“The world could use more people like you; that’s what we need.”

That short piece of exposition stuck with me for the rest of the race. It put in perspective just what it meant to not only the runners, but their families and friends who have supported, dealt with, and sacrificed to the training. A marathon is just one day, one little “race.” The true strength and dedication is the months (sometimes years) building up to that point. It’s the three-, four-, five-hundred miles spent pounding pavement. It’s pushing on when every fiber screams, “it’s only a training run! Go home!” It’s going out when the wind is howling and the rain is coming in sideways, or when the snow and sleet turn you into a bright-colored popsicle.

People used to ask me why I wanted to run a marathon, and I would answer “I want to see if I can do it.” Now, perhaps they’ll ask why I want to run another one.

“Because I can.”

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I can’t quite decide whether I find it funny or annoying when everyone assumes that now I’m finished the marathon I go straight home from work and sit in front of the TV all night. Obviously the people who assume this are the ones who go straight home from work and sit in front of the TV all night! Some people can’t quite get their head around the exercise thing at all. One girl I know has been trying to lose weight for some time and she has been successful but only through practically starving herself. When I suggested that she might like to try doing a little bit of gentle exercise, just to increase her metabolism a bit, she laughed at me and said ‘Oh no. I don’t do exercise!’ To me that’s just weird, but then again I do eat an awful lot so I have to burn off the calories otherwise I’d be a 5 foot 2 roly-poly.

So I’m still doing a lot of spinning and I think I might be getting a bit obsessed about it now. On Tuesday nights my gym has just added in another spin class to the schedule so now, if you fancy it (or are a bit weird like me), you can do 3 classes in a row - 2.25 hours of intense cycling! I haven’t actually done 3 classes yet, but I will in a couple of weeks time.

Today I finished work and I have a week off. It really couldn’t have come at a better time cause I’m absolutely knackered from working too many hours, not getting quite enough sleep and trying to keep my fitness levels high. Tomorrow Javier and I go to Scotland to stay in a little ‘chalet’ - it sounds posh but isn’t really - and I can’t wait. We’ll go cycling in the woods (this time I’m gonna speed pass Jav on the way up the hills!) and I might do some running (why can’t I just relax? Genuine question - I really can’t sit still for any length of time. Maybe I have slight hyperactivity..). We’ll cook nice food, drink nice red wine (half a glass for me, one if I feel like getting drunk) and generally try to chill out a bit. Then it’s back to London to build up to my next 3 races - all 10k’s and all in the space of about 4 weeks. My aim is sub 46….fingers crossed! 

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I got my first bug of the year on Tuesday night.  Zoom, smack into the back of my throat.  Yecch.

I’m nearly done with my training now.  I’m closing out my “taper,” which is when you reduce mileage in the last few weeks before the race.  I skipped my midweek run last week; I’ve been working a lot of extra hours at work lately, and the idea of running was just not happening.

On Sunday I cruised out for a eight-miler.  I wasn’t looking to set any goals, just finish it in a reasonable time and in decent condition (“run strong, not fast” has been my mantra lately).  I battled the chilly wind all four miles out, feeling like I just wasn’t getting anywhere.  Things didn’t really improve on the return leg.  I was filled with self-doubt.  Had I done enough long runs?  Am I going to be okay even though I skipped a few medium runs?  Am I too ambitious with my time goals?

What the hell do I think I’m doing?

Some of it melted away once I got home and reviewed my miles splits: 8:13, 8:21, 8:29, 8:13, 8:13, 8:21, 8:18, and 8:11.  My average was just shy of 8:18 (total was 66 minutes), which is pretty damn good news.  I want to run the marathon with an average between 8:30 and 9:00.

Tuesday night I set out for a relaxed two-miler.  These little guys are just to keep the parts moving so they don’t forget what to do later.  I floated the first mile at 8:42, felt good, and decided to continue that pace.  Yeah, mile two came in at 8:04.  I obviously have no concept of how to pace myself and can only do it by accident.

I’m starting to feel cautiously optimistic about Sunday.  I mean, yeah, 26.2 miles is a good haul to drive, let alone run on your own two dumb feet.  But the weather’s looking right, I’ll be running with a pace group, and I’ve got nearly two years of training behind me.  At this point, I’m predicting a time of 3:52.  And I’ll be very happy with that.

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After recovering somewhat from 20-miler number two, I did a fast three-miler on Tuesday.  Without giving it my all, I tried to see what sort of “push it” pace I could manage without an actual body to race.  I surprised myself the first mile by hitting 7:24, then nailing a flat 7:00 on the second mile.  I was really starting to feel it at that point and decided to ease up for a block or three.  I was worried that I was going to hurt something, since it had only been about 48 hours since the 20.  I picked it up slowly over the last half-mile and hit 7:26, for a very agreeable 21:50 overall.

I’m going to have to cut about 2:30 off that to beat Bosco and Steve.  Yeeha.

My hamstrings were pretty tight over the rest of the week, so I skipped my 8-mile speed workout.  I really don’t like speed workouts anyway, so I didn’t feel all that bad about it.

On Saturday evening we went out for a nice “little” 12-miler.  The wind was atrocious out of the north, so that’s my excuse for my crummy times.  Overall, I managed an even 9:00 split thanks to a final-mile rally of 8:08.  Right before we finished mile 11, Joy and I ran into Scott on his bike, and he rode with us for a few blocks.  “I could use the break,” he said.  I’ll give you a break, fool.

Tonight was a lovely, warm, humid evening.  Not so great for a long run, but good for another push-it 2-miler.  I took it a bit easier than last Tuesday’s run, but clocked the two at 7:44 and 7:15 (14:59 total).  That really surprised me; I thought for sure my second mile was going to be about a minute slower.  Guess it just goes to show what a warm up mile can do for you.

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I’m often asked how I can stand running so far.  Don’t you get bored? No, I’ve never really gotten bored.  I might get “tired,” but it’s not the same as getting “tired of it.”

Doesn’t it hurt? Yes, it hurts.  Sometimes.  Sometimes it’s just an ache in my knee, or soreness in my hip.  Sometimes it’s more like bones and muscles exploding, tearing themselves apart.  Sometimes you realize that the jangly bits have been jangling a little too much.  Side stitches are pretty common.  Joy once asked me how to make them go away, and I shrugged.  “Keep running.”  I’ve gone over two miles with a side stitch.  The most recent Runner’s World noted that “runners are conditioned to run through discomfort…”  I would add, “because we’re stupid enough to think that it might go away.”
Don’t you ever want to quit?  All the time.  But the only thing more humiliating than not doing it in the first place is quitting.  Even in terrible pain, puking, bleeding from your eyeballs, you feel a bit of guilt for quitting when you know, just another mile or two and the bleeding would stop.

This week was basically a repeat of last week - but I bought new shoes to do it.  I love my new Asics Kayano 13’s.  Two miles on Monday; I didn’t bother keeping time, since this was basically a recovery run after Saturday.  Thursday night I ran another 8-miler, and I set a new personal best! I ran four miles out, and each mile running back was faster than that segment the first time.  My first and last mile were both under 8 minutes, 7:49 and 7:33.  My average overall was 8:04, and my total was 64:32.  I can’t wait for the marathon to be over so I can start playing with my runs - now I want to run an eight under sixty minutes.

Joy had to work late on Saturday, so we went out on Sunday instead for this week’s 20-miler.  I wish there was something interesting to report - actually, no, I don’t.  That would probably mean an injury.  This week went WAY better than last week.  I had no real issues, just the standard aches.  I took two short voluntary walks at miles 10 (Gu and Gatorade) and 16.5 (more Gatorade), but other than that, I ran everything.  I kicked the last mile home and actually had my third-best mile of the run, at 8:47 (the others were 8:44 and 8:46).  My average was still higher than I would like, about 9:21, but I can live with that.  I improved my time over last week by roughly 13 minutes, for a whopping 3:07:17.  In a magical world, I can still break four hours for the marathon if I can run the last 6.2 at an 8:30 pace.

But we all know I have to do better than that to beat jules.

Last Friday was a 5K run at work.  I didn’t run because I knew it would blow my chances on the 20.  Two of my runner coworkers, Steve and Bosco “the Kenyan” ran; Bosco was third in 19:46, and Steve came in around 10th.  I told both of them they were lucky, because I’d have schooled them.  Bosco was like, “yeah okay whatever” and I told him I would have drafted him for three miles then smoked him at the end.

After the marathon, they said, I’m going to have to prove it.  Sometime in June, probably, I’ll be racing them around the trails at work.  Oh God.

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