After months and months of training, I finally earned the title of marathoner at the Philadelphia Marathon. Phew! While the race didn't go the way I'd dreamed, or nearly as smoothly as some of my training runs, I crossed the finish line without being forced off by the sweeper trucks, and there were still even a hundred or so people behind me. And the announcer, who was rattling off stats while I was coming down the last .2 miles, said that only something like less than one percent of people in the world have completed a marathon, so I feel pretty happy that I was able to finish at all.
Race day started out great. I got up at 4 am, and left the enormous hotel suite in Valley Forge that Jeff got with his magical points, and headed into Philly proper. Driving in, I saw signs for Manayunk (an area towards the end of this race), and it started to sink in just how far this run would actually be. I'd done 18 miles in training (which was what my book recommended) so I tried to just trust that it would indeed be enough. Most people say the rest of the way is mental.
I arrived in Philly, found a place to park and wandered over to the Art Museum, where the "Rocky steps" are, and the statue. Naturally I took my picture with Rocky and looked at the steps for a while, before opting not to climb to the top. I was saving my legs for later. But a visit to the port-a-potties before they got to busy, I went to my corral... and it was empty. They'd said to start lining up at 6 and I was confused why no one else was there. I'm always one to follow the rules. But by 6:30, the crowds started rolling in and I started to get excited. I met a bunch of people running their first marathons, a bunch of half marathoners as well. And a lot of these friendly faces I saw later in the race and they remembered me. I guess, its that Madison gene that my dad passed down, that gives me the chatty ability to make new acquaintances. The nerves were a buzzing, and as I positioned myself next to the pacer for the 5:30 finisher... even though that ambitious time wasn't in my plan, I figured I'd keep them in my sights as long as I could. While I was chatting, I even met a guy from the DC area who is also randomly going to be in Maine for Thanksgiving and is planning on running the Portland Turkey Day Race. Out of 20,000+ people, that seemed like a very strange coincidence.
But at the official start at 7... we didn't move. Even at 7:15, our corral hadn't budged at all. It wasn't until about 7:25 that we even started edging forward, at which point I stripped off my silly old knit hat, the cheap Wal-mart sweatsuit I'd purchased just for this occasion and my mittens and placed them along the side for the donation pile. By the time our group actually crossed the starting line, it was close to 7:40. That meant that every time I passed a mile marker, I had to mentally subtract about 40 minutes in order to get a sense of my real time. Math. And without coffee? It's a bad idea.
The race for the first two miles was pretty jammed, as I tried to find space in the crowd and still see things like LOVE park, but I did manage to stick with the 5:30 group for a while... until we got down by the waterfront, and I lost them around mile 3. But by then, the field had spread out a little bit, so I was able to focus on my own pace and enjoy the smiling and enthusiastic crowds. As I neared mile 4, I met a guy named RJ, as we commiserated about the sticky shoe syndrome, caused by all the spilled gatorade on the ground. He was from Jersey City, and had a kid around the same age as mine, so we chatted and jogged for a few miles together. But his plan was to pick up the pace each mile, and so as we headed over the hilly bridge to University City, we parted ways. But all of that chatting and whatever, distracted me so much that I actually had a pretty great first 10K. Turning up the road towards Drexel, there was a pretty steady incline, but at the top was a row of frat houses, with some rather enthusiastic frat boys dolling out beer. I opted out of the beer, not wanting to puke halfway through the race, but I appreciated how excited they were banging together all of their pots and pans. Like giddy drunk children.
But after that area, at about mile 8, I stopped to take a quick bathroom break because I'd just had far too much water by stopping to take a drink at every beverage area, which was probably more than necessary given the moderate temperature (in the low 40's) and my slow but steady speed. But it was a quick pit stop and then I got right back into the run... which turned out to be the big incline of the race, up a large hill past the zoo and into Fairmount Park. Now, the park is beautiful. Really lovely. And I'd be thrilled to live close enough to run here for fun... but that's one monster of a hill. Still, I powered up it without walking. I even impressed one of the Team In Training coaches, who were with a group behind me. And then it was down a hill and over to the Please Touch Museum... where I made what turned out to be my fatal mistake. I had some Gatorade. Now, I haven't been training with Gatorade, and when I was a little kid fruit punch used to make me so sick. Why did I decided to do this? Well, when I went to wipe the sweat off my forehead, I got that unmistakable white salty powder all over my sleeve, which meant that I was losing salt, and fast. I used to think this was good, but its not. Since they didn't have pretzels, like I thought they would (they were handing them out the day prior at the Expo), I thought the Gatorade would help boost my electrolytes. So I took some and kept on running.
Around mile 11, there was a great troupe of costumed people doing some weird dances and playing music, who brought quite the smile to my face. After that, there were hardly any fans along the waterfront, so maybe I obliviously started started singing out loud. Yeah. I know. Embarrassing. I didn't realize it, until a group of three women started singing along to some Lady Gaga "Born This Way" with me. They were doing the half, but one of them had done the full in 2011 and gave me some tips about where the inclines were and where there weren't crowds, and she gave me a big hug and told me to keep singing.
But at mile 12.5 there started to be all these signs, where you could go right and finish the half marathon, or go left to continue on. I stayed to the left, but there were VERY few people with me. In fact, I saw a lot of people with full marathon bibs (they were different colors), opting to go that route. I started to wonder if I'd been doing my math calculations all wrong. But, I knew that I was just under 3 hours for my half, and that my goal of finishing the marathon in under 6 hours, without walking, was well within my reach. I realize that 6 hour marathon isn't exactly speedy, but I've only been running for a couple years, and I'm just not that fast. I'm working on it, but its a slow process.
Anyway, I stayed to the left, and then was rewarded by seeing my friends Jennie and Jeff who had trekked down from NYC to see me run this foolish thing. Jennie is eight months pregnant, so I ran over to her and rubbed her belly for some good luck. I was feeling great, and told them I'd see them in three hours.
So I ran about another two miles down the course, but during this stretch, it is an out-and-back area, so I was seeing all of the people who were at mile 24/25, and finishing in well under 4 hours. Nothing like that sort of intimidation to make you feel like the slowest person on the planet. But still, kept on trucking... until right after the mile 15 water station. Now, at a few other water stations, between the one at the Please Touch Museum, and this one, I'd had some more Gatorade, washing it down with water. Well, let's just say that after about five miles, the Gatorade hit me. I had the most insane stomach cramps I'd ever had, and I have a pretty high tolerance for all things pain related. I honestly thought that perhaps my appendix was rupturing. I had to slow down to a walk, and was holding my side and trying all of my breathing techniques to try and get rid of the cramping. At some point, one of the volunteers asked if I was OK... I might have been crying... quite a bit... and I said I just needed to puke and I'd be fine. So I did, and I kept power walking.
Right after that I met Wandy and her daughter Cassi. They gave me some pretzels around mile 16, and that made me feel a bit better. Wandy's shins were killing her, so she was also power walking/running. Cassi, who was on a bike, was heading back to the finish to see her father at the end, so left us together and said she'd see us in a bit. After the pretzels, I tried to start running again, but could only make it a quarter mile or so, without taking a minute or two to walk. See, my knees have been bugging me since I've started doing these longer runs (yes, if I ever do another run this long I WILL buy compression socks) and once I started walking to get rid of the cramping, my knees just froze up. I was upset, to say the least. I've been running so consistently, and had run longer than 16 miles in training. Then the knee pain and my anger at not being able to do a steady run made me upset that I was crying again for a while, and while feeling slightly better, my stomach still felt questionable... at best.
So I ran for a bit, and walked for a bit, but mile 17 to 24 were so boring, that if I hadn't had Wandy to talk to, I don't know what I would have done. I learned all about her daughter, son, husband and battle with breast cancer. She's an awesome woman, and she was excited to learn about me as well. Amazing that in the course of 10 miles you can really get to know someone, even if you never learn their last name. I just know she's Wandy from Clinton, NJ, and she totally saved my race. We both wanted nothing more than to finish, and every time we saw one of the sweeper trucks, or little vans offering to pick up people who were struggling, we picked up the pace and told them to go away. The actual sweepers/marathon end, were a good mile behind us, but we feared for the worst. We'd come so far, we agreed we'd be upset if we couldn't finish.
At some point Cassi returned, and she told us funny stories to keep our mind off of the pain, and Wandy's husband (who had finished in four hours) met up with us as well. He was cool, when I told him that I had done so well on my half marathon split, nearly 40 minutes faster than my previous half marathon finish time. He said that meant I got two PRs (Personal Records). One for the half, and one for the finish... since just finishing meant I had my best marathon time ever. That made me feel a lot better, considering how much I wanted to lay down and rest at the point.
I stuck with them until I saw the 26 flag waving in the distance and said I was going to run it in as best as I could. At 26.1, I saw Jeff, who asked me how I felt, and I said, loudly "like shit", with a big smile on my face... and realized he was video taping this classy moment. And the cop, who was next to him also found this amusing. And right in front of the finish line was Jennie who had her camera at the ready (all the pics here are hers) and was cheering very loudly.
As I crossed the finish line, I got to shake hands with the announcer, who read my name off my bib and pronounced me a marathoner. Then I said it was my first time and he happily shook my hand. Bet you don't get that kind of treatment if you finish with the big mobs in the 3/4 hour range. Maybe being a straggler paid off. Again, the time was about 40 minutes off, so my finish was around 7 hours... but it was still a finish. And considering the awful stomach incident, and the amount of people I saw being removed from the course via medics, I'm just happy I had any sort of time.
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| Me and Wandy with our medals! |
After I crossed, Wandy crossed behind me, and these adorable eager young volunteers up to give us our well deserved medals. My triathlon medal from this fall might have been for a faster race, my Princess half marathon medal is a lot prettier, but this one is super special, because it was quite the personal accomplishment for me. Never did I imagine that two years ago I'd be able to run at all. Much less finish 26.2 miles. And finish it without quitting when it got really hard. It is definitely a medal that I'm super proud to display, and while there were thousands of people who got their medal for going a lot faster than I did, I know that on this day, I tried my hardest and did my very best.
I'm super grateful to my trainer Tara, who worked with me and got me going faster and hillier on a treadmill than I would have ever imagined. And my dad, who gave me nearly daily guidance on running via phone from Maine. If only I'd started running with him earlier. I'm also thankful for Jeff and Jennie, who made such an effort to be there, even with the pregnancy. And to all my other friends and family who provided such encouragement to me whenever I got down or questioned why I was doing this. I feel lucky that I've gotten in shape and can do these things, and when I showed my daughter my medal, she was beaming with pride. Well, at least until she asked how many hours I ran for. When I said 7, she said, "That's longer than you were supposed to." Yeah, she's pretty much made to be a personal trainer.
I keep saying this will be my only marathon. And it might be. This was quite the grueling experience. I love the 10K (6.2 mile distance), its a fun length to run. The half marathon (13.1) is a bit of a challenge, but still kind of fun. Somewhere around mile 15, the running here stopped being fun. And maybe that was because I got sick, but maybe just that distance is really, really long. So I do think that for the foreseeable future I'm sticking to the half or shorter to work on my speed and endurance that way. That will leave me more time to train for triathlons (which I love) and the Tough Mudder I've been longing to do, and maybe have a life instead of spending so many hours of every weekend running up and down the same old paths. So will I do another marathon? Most likely not, but I'd never say never. All I know is either way I've earned the right to put one of those 26.2 magnets on the back of my car... and that's what really matters.
