Showing off the medals

Uh huh…. that’s me.  I did it.  I finished my first marathon and in my mind that officially makes me a marathoner.  At least for now.  Do I think I’ll do another one?  Probably.  Does that make me crazy?  Absolutely.  (Not as crazy as my twitter friend who also ran his first marathon at Disney this year and thinks he’ll “do one a year.” That would seriously cut into my drinking time.)  And as distance runner Frank Shorter says, “You have to forget your last marathon before you try another. Your mind can’t know what’s coming.”  You know why?  Running a marathon hurts.  “Oh. My. God. Ouch.” Were the words that Lance Armstrong texted to his ex-wife following his New York City Marathon.  I remember reading the article in Runner’s World years ago and thinking ‘Christ, if Lance Armstrong is in pain, I will NEVER do a a marathon.’  Hmm…  Never say never.

Since it seems that I sweated out all my brain cells during the run, I’m going to use some of the signs and t-shirts that I saw along the route to help me get some of my thoughts out on the marathon.

Thanks for asking, this marathon is 26.2 miles too.  Leading up to this event, I was in awe of the number of people who asked my how long “this” marathon was.  I thought this was common knowledge?  So here is a little insight.  A marathon is 26.2 miles.  Always.  The distance became standardized in 1921.  It is based on the fabled run of the Greek soldier Pheidippides, a messenger who ran from the Battle of Marathon to Athens.  He ran 26.2 miles to deliver the message “we have won.”  In case this doesn’t sound hard to you, Pheidippides died when he got there.  Just sayin.

My race pace plan?  Start slow and then back off… which is exactly what I did.  “I didn’t train all that time just to come here and get it over with as fast as I can.” John Bingham. Yeah, I’m not fast.

Dead last finish > Did not finish > Did not start.  There is sense of accomplishment just in walking up to the

still smiling at mile 9

starting line of your first marathon.  There is also a sense that you may potentially vomit on your shoes from the nerves and anticipation of what you’ve gotten yourself into.  But the fact is when you line up to start a marathon, you’re doing something that most people never do.

“No marathon gets easier later. The half way point only marks the end of the beginning.”  It’s true.  Hearing you’re halfway there at mile 13.1 is only slightly encouraging at best.  You know the hardest part is still ahead.  You know you’re going to have to fight.  Hard.  You know in spite of the sweat and effort put in thus far, you’re still just starting to face the real challenge.  At the half way point, it’s time to dig in.

Pain is temporary.  Quitting is forever.  Oh this one stuck with me. When my knee got a little out of whack at mile 10 and the pain struck, this was the t-shirt I thought of.  When I hit the halfway point and put on my visor, realizing that the early morning sun that was getting in my eyes was quickly going to heat up the asphalt and make for a hot, hot journey for another 13.1 miles. I thought about this t-shirt.  When I hit mile 19 and and wanted to cry from the exhaustion, this was the t-shirt.  When I hit mile 24 and spectators were yelling “only two more miles” and I had to refrain from punching them in the face to remind them that when you’re running this fucking far, there is a HUGE difference between 2 more miles and 2.2 more miles.  Well, ok, that wasn’t the t-shirt.  That was really just lack of energy if I’m being honest.

Your feet hurt because you’re running 26.2 miles.  I loved this sign because it made me giggle every time I saw it.  It was a sweet, sweet reminder that I got myself into this mess and the only way out was through the finish line.  Oh and this one too. 26.2 – because 26.3 would be crazy.  Both of these signs could have and should have ended with ‘dumbass.’  Both of these signs could have just as easily said what I said to myself several times during the race.  “What were you thinking?”  “Only crazy people do this shit.”  Which is why I especially appreciate this gift from my best friend and tireless cheerleader, who flew from Connecticut for a weekend of no drinking and getting up at 3:30am, just to cheer me on.

Chafe now, drink later.  What?  Don’t want to hear about that?  Chaffing is only the beginning of the bounty of gifts provided to you by the 26.2.  Runners bond over the damage done by running.  Muscle pain is obvious.  Chaffing is no longer limited to arms and thighs.  Nope, it’s shocking to learn where you can chafe once your distances get longer.  Losing toenails is always a crowd pleaser.  Common among men running long distance?  Bloody nipples. Yeah, you read that right. Ouch.  Runners go from acquaintances to family in the medical tents.  Nothing like stopping at mile 18 to shove some Vaseline your sports bra to prevent any more chaffing.  Or shoving your hands down your pants to put some Bio Freeze on your hamstrings. There is no time or place for modesty mid race.  Yup, we’re all in this together now.  Plus, everyone out there, no matter how fast or slow understands exactly what Jerome Drayton means when he says “To describe the agony of a marathon to someone who’s never run it is like trying to explain color to someone who was born blind.”  Me personally,  I made out pretty lucky, but I do wonder how stuff happens.  Like when I went to scratch my back and realized I’ve chaffed all along the back of my bra line.  Or, now that the swelling has gone down, I see that I have bruising on the tops of my feet.  Seriously, how does that happen?

Way to go TOTAL STRANGER.  You rock!  I wish I could have hugged the guy who had this sign at mile 23. I

post race hug from Sharon

was pretty sweaty so I’m not sure he would have appreciated the gesture.  But that’s only because he doesn’t realize it’s not sweat, it’s liquid awesome. When you feel like every muscle in your body is ready to give up and you wonder how you could possibly finish, there’s nothing like a good laugh to remind you that you’re going to make it.  Cause sometimes, several hours into a race, we forget running takes balls, other sports just play with them.  Along the route there are spectators out there to support runners.  Like I said, my friend Sharon was there for me and like most of the spectators, she was cheering for each runner as they went by.  Crowd support was crucial for me and for some reason, that sign just made me laugh.  And man did I need a laugh at that point.

It’s not a miracle that I finished this race.  I’ve been training for it for half a year.  The miracle isn’t that I finished, the miracle is that I had the courage to start.  The estimate is that in any given year, approximately 0.1% of American runs a marathon.  That means I’m a bigger bad ass than 99.9% of the nation.  Cool.

Chuck Norris never ran a marathon.

What does it mean to be a runner? To me, it means intentionally running. I don’t care if it’s 10 steps or 100 miles. There are all kinds of special names you get to call yourself aside from “runner” as you go faster and longer – sprinter, marathoner, ultra-marathoner, so there is no need run a certain distance in order to be considered a runner.  So if you want to be a runner, be.  Get outside and put one foot in front of the other.  Move forward.  Move forward a little faster and now you’re a runner.  Congratulations.

I’ve been a runner since my freshman year in high school.  I grudgingly agreed to run track.  I had fun.  I was never good at it, I was never fast.  I’m still not.  But it did start a pretty healthy habit that I’ve stuck with, albeit on and off, for years.  I refuse to admit how many.  I formed some of my most cherished friendships and wonderful memories on those runs.  And to this day, I still hear my coach in my head.  Sometimes so loudly that I jump.  I’ve always run a few miles, a few times a week.  In 2009 I ran my first half-marathon and have been building since then.  I thought all marathoners were crazy.  Why would anyone want to do that?  So imagine my surprise when I realized that I’m just days away from my first marathon.

At some point, and I honestly don’t remember when, I decided that I would run a marathon.  Yup, all 26.2 miles of it.  I’m pretty sure I was drunk when I agreed to this. And I say “agreed to” but there exists a very real possibility that this was my idea… I THINK it went something along these lines…

My running partner and I had just finished two half marathons within two weeks of each other in 2010.  The first,

Pre-Disney Wine and Dine Half Marathon

The Walt Disney World Wine and Dine was a complete disaster.  This was my second half, I had completed one about a year earlier.  Attending only because a friend was on the race committee and it supported a great cause, our county’s Healthy Start Coalition.  I did not train at all and walked a good portion of that race.  But I TRAINED for the Disney Half. and it was at night, so that had to be easier right?  WRONG!  I am not a night runner.  I fit perfectly and annoyingly into the definition of “morning person.”  What was I thinking?  Who the hell knows.  So needless to say, a race starting at 10pm and finishing just minutes before 1am was not a good experience for me. (That’s me on the left in the picture with my running partner, about an hour and half before the Disney race.)

But then for the second year in a row, I ran the Healthy Start Coalition Half Marathon.  In the morning, beautiful weather, my hometown, flat and fast race course that I was familiar with.  It was fantastic.  Every time I looked at my watch, I was ahead of my goal pace and feeling better and better. I set a new PR (personal record, for any non-runners out there) by almost 30 minutes.  I was elated after that run.  And then we started getting emails from Disney (remember the Wine and Dine Half was only two weeks earlier)… “You finished the half!  You’re half way to a full marathon, sign up for the full marathon now!”  They’re very peppy these little Disney marketing emails so, well, we considered it.  Unfortunately (or fortunately) I was scheduled for foot surgery that November, making my decision for me.

But then we started talking about it more.  Maybe we should do it in 2012.  We all planned on running the Healthy Start Half Marathon again in October of 2011, which would put us right on track for a full in January.  Besides, it falls on my BIRTHDAY, how cool is that.  (If you’re actually contemplating that question, the answer is ‘not very.’)  But it all seemed like such a good idea at some point (again, probably drunk) that we totally pumped ourselves up for it.  We had picked up a new running partner along the way and suckered her in too.  So now there were three of us.  We were so excited, we signed up within days of registration opening.  We were unstoppable. It was going to be EPIC!

Flash forward approximately one year….

Uh huh.  Yeah, training for a marathon is fun.  IF you love running, hate drinking and the idea of being sore for days after a workout sounds like a great accomplishment to you.  I don’t love running.  Well, I did, I think at some point.  No, I really didn’t.  I do it because it’s the workout that I hate the least.  I love the way it makes my butt look.  I love being outside.  I prefer running by the beach to being in some cardio-sculpt class with a bunch of sweaty strangers.  I do however love drinking (if you’ve read any other posts, you may have picked up on that…) and going out for drinks on Friday night and then running for four hours on Saturday morning makes for a rather tough start to the weekend.  I guess I’ll give in to the last one, I do feel a sense of accomplishment when I’m a little sore from a workout.  So marathon training for me is fun about 33% of the time.  Uh. Not a great percentage.

But I will say this.  Marathon training changes you.  I’ve quit a lot of things in my life.  I don’t like to call it quit, but really there are just a lot of thing that I started and never finished.  I’ve always been pretty ok with that.  Because I like to think of it as changing my mind rather than quitting (more on this topic in another blog…) My point is I refuse to quit this.  I don’t know why.  A few months back I was texting with a friend who asked me how my 14 mile run went that morning.  At that point, 14 was the furthest I’d ever run IN MY LIFE.  I told him. I told him the truth.  IT SUCKED.  It was a super hot, muggy Florida morning. I ran out of water around mile 8. I died a little out there that morning and at several points I wanted to quit or cry or both.  I told him all of this and he responded with simply “Don’t Quit.”  Well, truth be told I had no intention of quitting.  I had already passed that point and I don’t know when or why, but it was too late for me.  I was doing this thing. Short of a broken bone (which I’m kinda still kind of hoping for) I’m going to finish this marathon.  It’s not going to be pretty.  I haven’t been training enough over the past month.  I haven’t tapered appropriately.  I started training too early and got burnt out.  But I refuse to quit.  My only goal is to finish.  And I will.  Run, walk or crawl I will cross that finish line.  And then maybe I can say I’m a marathoner.  Maybe.  One thing I definitely am: Crazy.  Like I said, all marathoners are.

T-3 days to my first 26.2.  Wish me luck.