Monthly Archives: March 2011

It’s three days after the race. My legs are still sore, my body still tired….and the smile is still on my face. Because I never in one million years, truly believed I had enough speed in me to pull out a sub 3:20 marathon. And given the physical condition of my body on Saturday, I probably shouldn’t have run that fast! For the past couple weeks of training, I had been struggling with some bad hip and sciatic pain. So I was pretty stressed about how that was going to hold up over 26.2 miles.

Even now, with plenty of time to think and reflect on the events of the day, the entire thing seems a bit surreal. I’ve thought a lot about how I want to write this recap (and have even started and re-started a couple of times), but in the end I realized that the race recaps I like to read most are the ones that are written like a story. And while there’s so much to say, I think I’ll just jump right into the day of the race. Which means I’m not going to focus on the fact that my over-stuffed, over-sized suitcase that contained everything I needed for the race and my week-long work conference got lost on the way to DC….

Or how I ignored all rules about what to do the day before a race and walked around the expo for far too long, didn’t eat a good lunch, and went for a long time without staying properly hydrated.

Or how we went to a nice Italian restuarant the night before the race without realizing that every dish contained either meat or cream sauce (and usually both) so I ended up making up my own dish to order.

And I won’t even focus on the fact that I literally had an emotional meltdown in the hotel room that night because “I absolutely am not ready to run, and I feel so lethargic and my legs are like lead and please-oh-please don’t make me run a marathon tomorrow!!” (thank goodness I have very patient and understanding parents who both understand the stress of the marathon all too well).

Nope, instead I’ll tell you the story of the PR marathon I never knew could happen. Which started at 4:30am on Saturday morning, after a night of restless sleep with 5 members of the {onetherun} family crammed into one hotel room. A little after 5 am, my super prepared Dad ran down to the front desk to get our car from the valet. 10 minutes later he was back in a panic. Runners had invaded the lobby and the valet was nowhere to be found. We decided to scrap our original plan and take a taxi to the start. By 5:35(ish), we were all piled into the back of a smelly minivan on our way to the start. I tried choking down the remainder of a bagel with PB, but my stomach was more off than usual that morning. While I am no stranger to pre-race stomach issues, that morning was particularly awful. At first I thought maybe it was just the rocking cab that was making my stomach turn. But later in the race, it became apparent that it must’ve been something more.

We got to the Armory just before 6, and I made a bee-line for the finish line festival area, where pre-race heaven awaited: a ton of empty porta-potties (my Dad tells me all my race recaps focus on the bathrooms. I can’t help that I find this aspect super important!). Thanks to my Dad’s careful planning and quick thinking, we apparently made it to the race just in time, I heard many horror stories that day of runners getting stuck on the metro or in traffic or being blocked out by closed roads. I am so thankful that I had plenty of time to relax and prepare in the warmth of the Armory.

Yes, I gave in and wore capris. It was a tough decision, but in the end I was glad for the extra warmth!

At about 6:30, my family and I parted ways: me to make one last pit stop before lining up, and them to make the mile trek out to part of the course. At this point, my stomach was still pretty queasy. I had given up on my bagel and had only been able to choke down about two bites of a banana. The only thing that seemed to sit okay in my stomach was coffee and Gatorade, which I drank liberally.

Fortunately, by the time the final race countdown began, all my anxiety had floated away. The sun was just beginning to peak out over the horizon, and I felt calm and ready to run. A little after 7am, we all were off! Over 15,000 runners streamed out of the corrals and into the capital city. It must have been a pretty amazing sight.

My goal for the first few miles of the race was to not go out too fast. All the extra energy stored up over the taper week and the excitement of race day makes it really difficult for me to hold back. Fortunately the first mile was really congested, which helped keep my pace more relaxed than usual. I saw my family right after the first mile mark, which gave me the extra boost I needed to feel race ready. As I turned the corner away from them, I could still hear my sisters shouting my name. That encouragement fueled me through the entire first half of the race.

After that mile, I realized I was running next to the 3:15 pacer. So I settled in with the group for the first few miles and completely zoned out. I tried to pay attention to the beauty of the course, but the truth is that those miles passed by in a blur. I know that we ran past all the amazing DC landmarks – along the National Mall, past the Capitol Building and monuments and through streets lined with cherry blossoms. And even though the Obamas did not come out to cheer us on as we ran by the White House, it felt pretty cool to be running through such a beautiful city.

Despite all my best efforts to keep my paced relaxed, I still went through the first 4 miles faster than I had planned. But by mile 4, I realized the 3:15 pacer was going too fast. As much as I wanted to stick with him, I consciously put on the brakes a little bit and let him go, afraid I’d regret it later if I didn’t.

Mile 5 brought with it the biggest uphill of the race, and along with it – the hip and sciatic pain I had been dreading. Not only did I feel a sharp pain in my hip, but I also felt tingling down my left calf, and I could swear my foot was going to go numb. For a brief moment, all my excitement faded away and was replaced with panic. What would I do if the pain got so bad that I had to stop running? Could I handle coming all this way and not finishing?? To make matters worse, the nausea in my stomach increased until I tasted bile in my mouth – bile filled with the disgusting taste of the Motrin I had taken that morning in hopes of keeping the hip pain away. For the next couple of miles, it was all I could do to just keep it together. I made sure to drink plenty of water at all the stops, and focused on remaining calm. I had come this far. And I was going to run until my body couldn’t move another step.

After making it through Mile 7, I somehow found my stride again. Although the pain in my hip hadn’t gone away altogether, it had subsided. For the rest of the race, I would face a strange cycle of the pain growing sharper and then fading away. Although it was less than ideal, I knew I was tough enough to run through it.

At this point, the course started sloping downhill, and my stomach calmed down enough to take a GU at mile 9. I was able to keep a fairly consistent pace after that. I enjoyed the route, and focused on making it to my family who were waiting somewhere around Mile 12.

Mom{ontherun} ready with the cowbell

As anyone who has ever had spectators come to cheer them on at a race knows, having that support makes all the difference! Not only did it give me mini goals to work toward, but their loud cheering and excitement gave me an extra boost! It meant so much to me that they were willing to give up their day to cheer, and because of that I was motivated to push harder so that I wouldn’t let them down.

 

I felt strong through the half marathon, although watching a good portion of the field turn off and finish was tough. Especially because the course then wound around the back of RFK stadium and through the parking lots (not exactly scenic). This part of the course was lonely, but I had something to look forward to – the ontherun family would be waiting for me in just a few short miles! Knowing that I would see them between miles 15 and 16 kept me going.

It was after seeing my family for the 3rd time that I experienced my second mini panic attack of the race. The remaining 11 miles were not spectator friendly at all. I knew that I’d be on my own during the loneliest and most difficult parts of the race…and it seemed like I still had so far to go. In a moment of desperation, I asked my Dad if I would see him again. And even though we both knew it was impossible, he replied: “I’ll do my best!!” That little promise was all I needed. I settled in next to Mr BAA (above) and focused on tackling this last part of the race. I was strong, the sun was shining, and 11 miles isn’t really that far to run (right??). Not when I’d already come so far.

Even though the course was lonely, I got a second wind during Mile 17. Maybe it was the GU, or the fact that the course had completely flattened out, or maybe it was the fact that I was 17 miles into a marathon and still felt really strong. Despite the pain in my hip and a sudden sharp pain in the top of my left foot that came out of nowhere and stayed with me for the rest of the race, I actually felt really good. I couldn’t believe it! I knew that if I could hold my pace and not fall apart in the later miles (as I usually do), I was going to do really well. So I started breaking the course up into segments, first telling myself to just make it to Mile 20. Once I got through Mile 20 still feeling strong, I told myself that all I had to do was make it to Mile 22 and then I would only have 4 miles left. …and 4 miles is nothing.

The last 6.2 miles covered some of the absolute worst parts of the course. First, we ran over a long grated bridge between Miles 20 and 21. In case you’re wondering, running on grates is torture to beat up quads and feet! And then there were a series of some pretty sharp turns, culminating in a section of the bike path where we literally ran out to a bucket, ran around it, and ran back in the other direction. Being forced to run past the 23rd mile marker and a water stop was hard enough. But when I got to the end and saw that a measly little bucket was all that had prevented me from turning around and heading toward the finish I almost laughed. If there hadn’t been officials watching, I may not have been able to stop myself from kicking that dumb thing over.

Mile 23 was where I finally started to fall apart. I had been throwing up bile into my mouth a couple times over the past few miles, and my energy was fading fast. When I got to the water stop at 23 miles, I choked down one small gulp of GU, chugged water, and prayed I could keep everything down for those last 3 miles that seem to stretch out forever. But even though I could feel my pace slipping away, I still felt extremely positive.  I was tired, everything hurt, and I just wanted the race to end. Underneath all that, however, was a determination unlike anything I have ever experienced during a marathon. Usually I spend the last few miles calculating just how slow I can go and finish within the buffer I’ve given myself from running really fast at the beginning. This time there was no buffer, but it didn’t matter. I never wanted to quit and I never wanted to walk. I just kept running, knowing that every step I took brought me one step closer to my goal.

Proof: my face at the 10K compared to my face after running 20+ miles. Still feeling positive, still trusting that I could do this!

Miles 23.5 – 25 were up a hill that never seemed to end. To National Marathon’s credit, however, the water stops were more frequent at this point. I appreciated that they were every mile from mile 23 on, when you need fuel the most. We finally reached the top at Mile 25, and as I crested that hill heading into the final mile, my excitement only grew.

….that is until my watch hit 26 miles, and instead of seeing the finish, I only saw another hill. I kept chugging away, looking down at my watch with growing concern. We hit 26.2 and still the line seemed miles away. Finally, after an agonizing extra 0.4 miles, I crossed the line victorious. The clock had yet to hit 3:20 – I had done it!!

Pace for the final miles:

And how did I feel about this? Well, a picture is worth 1,000 words, so I’ll let you see for yourself.

That, my friends, is exhaustion and complete shock. I am a 3:18 marathoner. Not only do I have a new PR that I’m incredibly proud of, but when registration for the 2012 Boston Marathon opens up, I am going to be among the first to sign up. I can’t wait.

My final results are below. More than anything, I’m happy about how consistent (relatively speaking) I ran this race. And by the fact that I somehow managed to keep my pace below 8-min/mile the entire way – a first for me!

 

I’ll take that for consistency

6th in my division; 252 out of 2,877 finishers

 

Thank you again for all your wonderful words of support this past weekend! It means more to me than I can ever express. And to my amazing family – you guys got me through the race! Thank you for everything. I wouldn’t be the runner that I am without you.

Today, on 3.26 I ran my 3 5th marathon at the age of 26, hoping to break my old PR of 3:26.

I’m so excited to report that I not only beat my previous time, but I blew it out of the water! I covered the National Marathon course in 3:18:19 – over 11 minutes faster than I ran the Cape Cod marathon last October!

To say I’m ecstatic is an understatement! And I was so happy to be able to share this day with the {ontherun} family….and all the other bloggers who were running through the streets of DC.

To all of you who tweeted, texted, emailed, or cheered me on — thank you thank you THANK YOU! Your encouragement got me through those tough miles today, and it meant so much to me to have your support.

I know I’ve been noticeably absent from the blog-world lately, but now that the stress of the marathon is over, I promise that will change. And I’ll be back with a real recap soon!

 

PS. If you haven’t already, there’s still time left to enter my giveaway! So if you want some free nut butter, enter by Sunday night!