Journey of a Marathon

Twelve years ago I was eager to trade in my high school tennis career just to avoid a few laps around the tennis court. That is no exaggeration. I was pretty good at the game -- I won almost all of my matches and even won the district title in doubles my junior year. But part of our practice included more running than I ever wanted to do -- long distance (The coach expected us to run nonstop for twenty minutes!) and sprint (the aptly named “suicides”). Alas, if I had learned to excel at either of those running exercises I’m sure I would have gone on to play college level tennis at a top university and subsequently slide without effort into the life of a professional circuit player (Right). However, that was not meant to be and I quit the team after my junior year relieved to never again have to run unless being chased.

That is why it is so ridiculously absurd that I just completed my first marathon (yes, yes, thank you very much) and loved every minute of it. Every nauseous, cramping, defeated, minute of it. That is to say, it certainly wasn’t easy. But the difficult parts are what made the experience so rewarding and the medal worthy of being hung around my neck. I went from an unmotivated, almost-slug of a teenager to an accomplished, long-distance runner adult in…T-minus eleven years. It took me long enough.

Most of my training runs were incredible experiences, even up to the full 26.2-mile run I had completed one month before the big day. However, I was extremely nervous about the actual marathon because I had a bad cold with a deep cough for a couple weeks prior, pain in my left foot that appeared after my 10 mile taper run, and my legs felt more sore and tired than they ever had before. Mainly, I was worried about the often talked about heat of the LA Marathon due to a late start and little shade. Even on short runs, I’ve had bad experiences in the heat from running faster than I should. I knew I would finish, but I wanted to finish strong, happy, and with a time I was proud to share. That happened mostly.

I carbo-loaded, hydrated, and rested properly the week prior to the race. Two nights before (the “big” sleep night), I wasn’t able to sleep but I took a nap during the day to try to make up for it. The night before the race, while not sleeping all night by any means, I did get more sleep than I’d ever had the night before a long run. I felt rested and ready to go when morning came.

I was dropped off at the start around 7:15 and immediately got in line for the port-a-potties. I went successfully but I swear 10 minutes later I felt like I had to go again. I figured it was just nerves but at one point I realized I really did have to go and there was no time to stand in line again. I had tissue in case I needed to do the squatting thing (which I’d never done) but didn’t really think I would actually do it….. When another runner in my running group suggested I go in the bushes (at the start line, with people all around) that was all the convincing I needed so I squatted, with two “helpers” aiding my privacy. I felt a lot better, so I was very glad I did it.

I crossed the start line around 8:45, a full thirty minutes after the scheduled start of the race. I felt good for the first few miles, warm but thought I was going slow enough for the circumstances. At every water stop from the beginning, I drank a cup and poured a cup over my head.

Already around mile 8, I felt like I was starting to fade, getting warmer, tired, and my left foot started to bug me. And again, I had to pee. I had recently been made aware that going in someone’s residence was an option. So I guess it was around mile 10-12ish when I yelled out “Can I use someone’s potty?” and immediately a guy said “Sure, just go up those stairs & they’ll let you in.” “Stairs? Uh, thank you anyway but I don’t actually want to go up stairs….” Then the neighbor lady chimed in and said I could use hers. She ran ahead of me into her little apartment and took me to the bathroom where I quickly took care of business and went on my way. Of course, I thanked her profusely, but I wish I had some idea of her name or address, even what street that was on because I am so appreciative and love that I got to go without waiting in line! Maybe in the future, I can drive the racecourse early and pre-arrange bathroom stops with the residents…ha. I guess going in some random person’s house is no less risky than eating or drinking food along the route handed to me by a random person, right?

I felt better after the stop, but then started to feel a little nauseous. Around mile 14, I saw my husband and parents for the second time during the race and one of them asked “Do you need anything?” and I yelled “Everything!” A few minutes later I decided I was going too fast for me in those particular conditions and had to start walking, without even telling my group. I had done the quitting dance in my head for a couple miles and kept blocking it out, but finally had to give in to it. I walked a little, ran a little, and still felt bad. Plus knowing I had quit at mile 14 felt awful. When I got to the support station at Mile 15, I burst into tears and shook like an earthquake. The volunteers fixed me up with water (my waist belt was dry and I was thirsty even with all the water stations), then put my bottles back into my belt for me. I went along my way, but ended up walking a ton for a mile or so, even taking the belt off to relieve the pressure on my belly. I felt so defeated, thinking I would walk most of the last 12 miles and have a 7 -hour marathon or something.

But I just kept going. I put on my Ipod and kept going, started running more than walking, pushing positive thoughts through my head. I really think the Ipod music helped me. Seeing other people who looked like they were having trouble, but kept going anyway, helped me. I saw a sign that said, “You think this is hard, try chemotherapy.” That helped me. There were lots of little inspirations along the route.

Eventually, I was only walking through the water stations and when I saw my family around mile 19, I walked and talked through the station when my husband told me my group was only a few seconds ahead of me. I figured he was exaggerating so I wouldn’t feel bad about falling so far behind, but sure enough a couple minutes later I came upon them and passed them up. It really boosted my confidence in the run to know I wasn’t miles behind where I would have been if I hadn’t “quit” earlier and I think that relief helped me during the rest of the race. Besides, now that I’d passed them, I couldn’t let them catch up with me! I ended up finishing 8 minutes before the next person in my group.

I knew there was a long hill at Mile 22 coming up and I was excited about it, ready to “conquer” it, and then ready to “bring it home.” I have learned to love hills instead of be scared by them, and to conquer them instead of tolerate them. Before the hill began, I started to feel the slightest discomfort in my calves, which hadn’t happened before, so I was searching for bananas to no avail. When I got to the 22- mile support station, I got my legs sprayed with pain reliever and drank water with electrolyte drops, hoping to fix my calves before they got worse.

I kept going up the hill, some running, and some walking. Then I felt a sharp, shooting pain in my left calf. It was weird, a fast lightning zoom that made me sort of jolt around but was then fine. By now, my nausea was gone and runner’s high had taken its place.

I started drinking the water station Gatorade, in addition to the Clif blocks I’d been constantly sucking on since mile 2. I wanted more electrolytes because of the cramping. I was a bit deliriously happy throughout the end of the race. Every 30 steps or so I would get the lightning sensation in my calf but it was totally manageable since it wasn’t every step and I altered my gait to where I landed strongly on my heels to stretch it out as I ran. I thought of people who often are plagued by calf cramps on long runs and was glad they hadn’t hit me earlier.

I was so excited and could not wipe the wide, goofy grin off my face during the last stretch on 7th Street. I turned the corner onto Flower and immediately saw my husband on the right with a big smile on his face and I yelled, “I’m feeling good! I’m cramping really bad but I’m feeling good!” like it was such astounding news. I kept running up the hill towards the finish line, in total disbelief of what was happening at that very moment. The most amazing part was that I felt so great!

At mile 14 I realized I never wanted to do a marathon again and by mile 26.2 I re-realized that I couldn’t wait to do another one.

My time was 5:15, thirty minutes past my goal time, but I will take the slower time if it comes with my race experience instead of a better time achieved without issue. Learning that because something seems impossible now doesn’t mean it is, nor does it mean it will feel impossible all the way to the end. Perhaps my quest now is to keep running races until I find the easy one, the one where I have nothing left to learn. Twelve years ago, I couldn’t find a reason enough to run, and now I am happy to say, it’s hard to find a reason not to.