Running 26.2 Miles

Colorado Marathon. May 1, 2016. Mission accomplished.

I ran that far. That far being 26.2 miles. This was my first marathon. Apparently 1% of the population will ever run a marathon. Those who run marathons make up for the rest of the population, however, because "marathoners" are a thing.

To run a marathon, I had to wake up at 3:15am. I stayed with my training buddies: Kelly, Shelly, Lupita, and Amanda. Kelly was my bed buddy. She had the softest pajamas ever. Also, before we fell asleep around 10 pm she said,"We will be sleeping as long as we are running tomorrow." It was the most annoying truth I had ever heard.

The training that led up to the marathon created a huge bond with these women. I admire each of them, and I consider myself extremely fortunate to have such high caliber friends. Kelly is extraordinary. She is one of those people who makes things happen. Shelly is hilarious and loyal. Lupita is strong and loves deeply. Amanda has the ability to make people feel incredibly accepted.

Amanda and me, with our tank-tops made by Shelly.
"Stronger with every mile."

After we woke up and confirmed our clothing decisions, we drove to the shuttle spot. There were a lot of people dressed exactly the same. Then we rode a bus to the starting line. Amanda was my bus buddy. I felt better on the bus knowing I had a marathon veteran by my side. I ate my banana, drank my gatorade, and we slept. But, I didn't sleep well because there was this guy behind me to my left discussing his marathoning tactics. "The road is slanted, so I am going to run on the dirt on the side. At least, that is my plan."  And there was another guy, he was a lawyer. I don't know how that information slipped out, but he was discussing it with his unfortunate bus buddy, and telling how his wife encourages him to go running because he gets cranky if he doesn't run. I am pretty sure that was 95% of the people on the bus, but I didn't want to get into it with a lawyer. Once the bus stopped, I did not want to get off the bus because the starting line was snowtrees.

Snow! In May! I guess that was the beginning of the things about the marathon I took personally but shouldn't have.  For me, the weather is deeply personal, and snow on marathon morning was not what I imagined. But, it could have been so much worse, like feet of snow on the ground as the weather projections anticipated, so as a running community we were pretty grateful the weather and road conditions were as lovely as they were.

At the five minute warning, we all migrated from porta-potty land to the starting line of the marathon. I didn't want to be in the front with the people wearing running shorts. Amanda had agreed to run the entire marathon with me. There is no greater gift. She told me where to stand, and when to start my watch. The cool part about the marathon is the gun goes off, and I am just standing there. I said,"Running a marathon is easy! What's the fuss about?" Then we started running. I kept thinking it wasn't that bad for a long time.

The bridges were a little icey, and my feet got more moisture than I was used to, but running was safe. I ran the first 19 miles feeling strong. The course was downhill and had a curve towards the inside of the canyon. We started in the beautiful stillness of the mountain, and the course took us downhill. We ran along a stream, and I could hear the current bathing the stones to my left. To my right, the mountain rose with pine trees frosted with snow. I felt it in my left hip first, then towards my knee, then my calf. I felt a blister on my toe forming around mile 8, but there was nothing I could think to do for it besides change into dry socks. I didn't have dry socks, so I just kept running. That toe did not look good by the end of the race.

When I ran my first half-marathon, the entire last mile was emotional for me. I cried because I was so happy with how well I had trained. I cried because the training was hard. I cried because I was a strong woman.

Turns out, I felt nothing like that when I ran a marathon. I ran the last 7 miles really cranky.  Amanda Hardy ran the entire marathon with me, keeping me going when I wanted to walk, and keeping my pace steady. I am surprised she still wants to be friends with me after that 7 miles. I was mad at the people who were strong enough to pass me. I was mad at my hip for cramping up. I was mad at the old man who was walking his adorable dog and had the nerve to say,"Good morning." Who was he to tell me good morning while I was running a freaking marathon? He had no right. I finished the race with the same attitude.

My kids were so done with this whole "watch mommy run a marathon" business.

My adorable little children were there to see their mommy "run a marathon." They stood there 10 minutes and watched me run 100 meters to the finish line. My 5 year old little girl said watching the race was boring. My other children said they were cold. My 3 year old boy was hungry. Darling Ian was stressed out, trying to care for all of these rascally children. He had to figure out where to park, get all the kids to the location, and keep them all corralled. Meanwhile, I needed to eat, get out of the wind, and figure out where my brain had gone. I wanted to cheer for my friends, but I didn't know where they were on the course and I really needed to get in dry clothes.

"Ian, it was so great for you to come, but please leave. I will call you when I get back to the hotel and you can drive me home."

All I wanted was to be warm. The euphoric moment of having completed a marathon didn't happen. I did feel,"So that is what it feels like to run a marathon." I felt cold, and I wanted to sit in a hot tub and eat stuff. I wasn't sure what I wanted to eat, but I did want something.

I ran a marathon. Isn't that cute?

Also, my watch died at mile 18. Apparently, you should fully charge the Garmin before the race.