The First 13.1

Sunday morning I woke up at 4:08am. I had slept well that night despite all my nervous energy, and I felt rested. More than that, I felt anxious to get going. For days my mind had been consumed with details that could potentially become obstacles. I had to have coffee before the race, but where would I get it? Would there be traffic coming into the city? Where would we park? Please god, let there be a port-a-john when I need it. More than worry about the actual run, these details dominated my mind in the early hours of Sunday morning, as I lay in my bed drifting in and out of sleep. 

At 4:50, Matt and I got up, sneaking quietly around our shared hotel room so as not to wake our sleeping family. I managed to force down a bagel and banana, threw on my race gear and warm-ups, and double, triple, quadruple checked my bag of race gear… don’t forget your bib. Don’t forget your bodyglide. Do you have your fuel belt?

We drove toward Eugene, stopping along the way to get coffee, and then to pick up my sister and brother-in-law, who were coming to cheer at the starting line. I was grateful to have Ashley there. She ran her own marathon a year ago, so even just having her there seemed to calm my pre-race jitters.

Ashley & I near the starting line

It didn’t take long to find a parking spot, and by about 6:15 we were picking our way through the swarm of racers lined up outside Hayward field. The next 30 minutes were a blur as I rushed through my final race preparations. Hit the bathrooms. Load up my fuel belt. Pin my bib. Strip down to just my race gear. I heard them calling a twenty minute warning for the starting gun. I crushed a gel and went to find my corral.

It wasn’t until I stood, crowded and shivering at the front of my corral, that I realized how little I had thought about this actual moment. Of course I had been picturing it for the last four months, but for the few days prior, my focus had been elsewhere. Details. I tried to wrap my mind around the fact that in a few brief moments I’d be starting the longest run of my life. I tried to take stock of my body, telling myself I felt strong; I felt ready. Mostly I tried to tune out the pack of moms behind me, who were laughing about how marathons are like childbirth: after a couple of years you forget how totally and completely awful it is, and sign up for another one.  Gulp.

From down the street, we heard cheers erupt as the elite athletes crossed the starting line. It was time! It seemed like only seconds later that volunteers pulled away the barricades at the head of our corral, and we began shuffling down the street towards the banner. I scanned the sidelines for my family, waving, asking Ashley to help me troubleshoot an issue with her Garmin (she let me wear it for the race). Then, GO!!! This is it! 

The first few miles ran through the city of Eugene. I tried to breathe in all the sights, overwhelmed with gratitude just to be there. I reminded myself of my primary goal for this race: have fun! I didn’t want stress or anxiety to keep me from fully appreciating every step of the next 26.2 miles.

I felt good, and ran faster those first few miles. I’ve never worn a watch before, so I liked seeing my pace click by. Mile 4 we came up to a small hill. I love hills. I tried to pass as many runners as I could. I looked all around me for the 4:30 pace sign, but couldn’t find it. I had wanted to stick with him for most of the race, but he was out of sight behind me. Oh well. I took another gel, and wondered when I would see my family next.

Mile 6 I caught my first glimpse of them- Matt, Mitch and Ashley lined up on the side of the road. I waved like a crazy person.  I ran over to give Ashley a race update (I had seen someone poop their pants on the hill- this was a deep fear of mine, thus seemed important information to pass along). I felt strong and energized seeing them as I rounded the bend into mile 7.

Somewhere in the next three miles, I began to fade. I remember climbing another hill in the city, pushing my way past some fellow runners, trying to hang on to my pace (which was creeping closer and closer to 10:00/mile). By mile 10, I was at a loss. My muscles were fine; my feet and shins (the main source of pain for me during my training) felt great; my left knee was holding. But my body felt weak and tired; my stomach was unsettled. I took another gel, and we headed into a park along the river.

As we ran through the park, I tried to give myself a little pep talk. I felt desperate… here I was, mile 11, and I felt like death. Not even halfway to the finish line.  We crossed a bridge and the cool water looked so, so tempting. I felt my pace start to slip past 10:00. I hadn’t really encountered this in my training. In retrospect, I’m pretty sure the combination of full-strength Gatorade, nerves, and energy gel just did my stomach in. It's hard to really push yourself athletically when your body isn't responding the way it should. My body was struggling to get my stomach working again. I was struggling to quiet my mind.

I told myself to cling to hope, because this was going to be a long race. If you’re not a distance runner, that probably doesn’t sound like an encouraging thought, but it is. So much can happen in a mile. I still had 15.2 miles to turn this run around. I chose to believe it would happen. I allowed myself some walk breaks as we wound through the park, no longer worrying about pace.

We had been running alongside the half marathon runners up until this point, and my primary fear was that I’d get lost, take the turn off at the wrong point, and end up running the half instead of the full. As we got closer and closer to mile 13, this fear increased. Had I missed it already? I tried to look around and see if anyone near me was wearing a marathon bib. This is totally the kind of mistake I would make... Up ahead, I saw a race worker waving and the trail split. Half marathoners to the left, full to the right. I breathed a sigh of relief. 

My phone was beeping. A text from my dad. He was up ahead with my mom and Kisa. I still felt pretty crappy, but I couldn’t wait to see my daughter. I willed myself to push a little harder. As I saw the mile 13 sign up ahead of me, I could pick out Matt, Mitch and Ash in the crowd. Matt ran up to me and asked how I was doing. I tried to sound strong, but I was honest. I was feeling just okay.  I ran on without stopping, scanning the sidelines for my kid, telling myself I wouldn’t pause until I found her. I caught a great sign out of the corner of my eye “Pain is temporary, the facebook post is forever.” I looked up. It was Devon! I shouted her name and flashed a thumbs-up as I ran by. 

Maybe a block later, I found my parents and Kisa. Here, I stopped for a second. I gave her a kiss, which she promptly wiped away (“Yuck, mom!”) She demonstrated her own race prowess, cheered for me, handed me a dandelion. I set off again, crushing the dandelion in my fist,  for the next two miles, trying to find my inner strength... 

Read the second half of the recap here