Alternate titles for this post:
26.2 Miles of Pain
When NOT to Forget Body Glide
Of All the Places I Haven’t Chaffed Before
Can I Get An IT Band Transplant?
How to Positive Split the Crap Out of a Marathon
The Day I Learned How Much Guts I Really Have
I guess I’ll start at the beginning.
Pre-marathon
At 5:45 a.m. I met up with my very speedy neighbor, Baker, to catch a cab, pick up Meggie and head down to the Staten Island Ferry to begin our trek to Fort Wadsworth with Susan and Betsy.
We ate our breakfasts on the ferry and chatted nervously. Last year, I traveled to Staten Island totally by myself, and it was awesome to have some buddies to hang with during the long wait to the start! After the ferry docked we hopped on one of the busses to the starting area, and finally arrived at the athletes village around 7:30 a.m.
Meggie, Betsy and I stuck together and parted ways with Baker and Susan, who were in different corrals. It wasn’t super cold, so we hung out on a patch of grass and started getting pumped. Before we knew it, the corrals opened and we headed to the starting area. Unfortunately, it was only then when I realized I had checked my bag containing the all-important body glide and forgot to apply it first.
The Race
By the time the gun went off and Frank Sinatra was singing “New York, New York,” I just wanted to run. Miles 1 and 2 are on the Verrazano Bridge, and since I was in the green corral I started on the bottom of the bridge and actually didn’t mind it! Mile 1 was pretty much a warm-up, and after that I settled into a comfortable pace of 8:30 – 8:40/mile.
10K Split: 54:01
I’m not a very patient person, and these early miles are always the worst! I just tried to keep a steady pace, and I was right on target at the 10K split. As the miles ticked away, the crowds kept getting bigger and I got a huge adrenaline rush as we came up Fourth Avenue in Brooklyn.
15K split: 1:21:17
The crowds were huge and the music was blasting, which helped pick me up for a few miles. I think it was here when I realized I was starting to chafe in far too many places. Around mile 11 – 12 things really started going south. I struggled with negative thoughts and could feel my legs slowly turning to lead. With 14 miles left to go, this was not exactly ideal.
Half Marathon Split: 1:55:09
I was still on pace at the half, but shortly after mile 13 my IT band started to tweak. If you’ve been reading the blog, you know this was my biggest fear going into the race after I initially injured it in early October during a 20 miler. I didn’t know how bad it was going to become, so I pushed on through Queens. Discouragement was multiplying by the second, and I had to stop and stretch a few times to loosen up the band.
Miles 15 – 19
By the time I got to the Queensboro Bridge, I wanted to stop. What seemed like every ounce of my being was done – mentally and physically, I just didn’t have it. I knew I was going to have to stop and stretch the IT band at least every mile from then on to keep the pain managable, and any hopes of achieving my A goal, B goal, or even smashing my PR were gone.
I stopped on the bridge to stretch, and I felt so hopeless. It seemed like it would never end, and I started thinking about how I wanted to tell my marathon story.
Dropping out mid-way through the race? Giving up?
No.
How I got through 10 more miles when my mind and body were already completely spent? The feeling of crossing the finish line after overcoming what seemed like impossible barriers?
Yes.
So I made the decision to finish. No matter how slow, I was going to finish the race that I had dedicated months and months of training for. A runner passed by me and said “You got this!” and I started running again.
As I exited the bridge and entered Manhattan, the crowds were so loud – despite the pain, I got goosebumps and the excitement carried me through to 83rd Street, where my mom and sister were waiting. I explained to them about the IT band, and said:
“I’m going to be slow, but I’m going to finish.”
I knew I could keep going, and that stretching and walking would be part of the equation. When I got to 89th Street, Ali, Lauren and Emily were cheering their faces off for me, complete with sparkle skirts, leg warmers and I heart sweat shirts. It was such a pick-me-up, and as I kept pushing it dawned on me.
This may not be my race anymore, but look at all the people around me. Fellow runners pushing themselves to their limits, spectators cheering for hours, the awesome volunteers. What an amazing, amazing day for New York. And I’m part of it.
Around mile 18, some blessed volunteer gave me a stick with tons of Vaseline on it. As I covered my bloody legs with the stuff, he looked rather horrified but gave me another stick to take on the road. Running is so glamorous.
Miles 20 – 23
These were tough miles, and I stopped to stretch and even use the bathroom. I didn’t care what my Garmin said and just did what I had to do to get to the next mile. My mom and my sister were waiting for me at 95th Street and Fifth, and kept repeating words of encouragement as I continued up the gradual incline to Central Park.
Miles 24 – 26.2
Central Park is so familiar to me, and I’ve run the ~2.5 mile stretch to the finish a million times. I knew I was going to be done soon, and the crowds were so loud – no matter how much pain I was in, I tried to soak up the moments as much as I could. I mean, how often are millions of people cheering for me (and 47,000 others, but whatever) and urging me to keep going, saying that I was almost there?
It took every last ounce of strength to keep running until I crossed the finish line in 4:08:26.
Disappointed?
If I just look at the time, hell yes I’m disappointed. It’s twenty minutes slower than my goal time, and ten minutes slower than my marathon PR.
But am I proud of how I dealt with the mental and physical challenges that tried their best to get me on Sunday? You bet I am.
If running teaches us a lot about ourselves, then the act of running a marathon opens our souls and exposes raw emotion like nothing else. I left everything I had out there on the course, and I can’t be disappointed in that. It may not have been my day to PR or get that 3:45, but it was definitely my day to learn exactly how deep I can dig.
Special thanks to my mom and sister for being the best spectators and motivators around – I don’t think I would have made it without them.
I’m also so amazed and grateful for all of the tweets, messages and well-wishes I’ve received – THANK YOU.
As my wise friend Sara said via text, “we all live to run another day.”
And per Melanie, “Pain is temporary, pride is forever.”
True dat.
Congrats to everyone that ran on Sunday - Emilia, Katie, Baker, Betsy, Kelly R. and especially my sweat squadders Meggie, Susan and Lindsay.
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