Asphalt Officially Kicked!

(First off, I need to give a shout-out to my forumites at Runner’s World, my fellow running bloggers and blog-readers who give me so much encouragement and advice and support. And a HUGE shout-out to Fiance, who is always behind me 100% of the way in everything I do.)

I had my own group of cheerleaders going into my first marathon. My posse was made up of Fiance, and 3 of my best friends from college. I wasn’t looking for a specific time – my goal was to finish, see how my body responds to the marathon distance, and focus more on strategy and pace the next time around.

It was SO COLD at the start! And then, go figure, I had to pee 2 miles in (There Goes My Time, Part I). Around Mile 6, my Garmin died, leaving me with no idea of my pace, so I ran conservatively by feel. We ran past Independence Hall and the National Constitution Center, we ran past University Village where frat boys were out on their lawn banging on pots and pans for us, we ran by the Philly Zoo which had hung a banner declaring “The Philadelphia Zoo Loves Runners!” 

The “rolling hills” were brutal for a Midwestern girl like me, and we were forced to slowly walk through the water stations because all the spilt water had frozen on the ground (There Goes My Time, Part II). People were slipping and sliding, and I had to gingerly tiptoe my way across. It was a beautiful day for running though, and I ran on, knowing my friends were waiting for me at the half-marathon mark.

It was slightly discouraging to know that all the halfers were done and I still had to run another half marathon, but seeing Fiance and my friends screaming for me gave me such an energy boost. See my goofy, still-energetic self below:

 

Halfway Done!

Us marathoners chugged on. Now, I’d met Bart Yasso at the expo the night before and told him that being from flat, FLAT Chicago, I was afraid of the hills. He told me there would be a hill at Mile 14 but that I wouldn’t even notice. Well…Bart Yasso is the nicest guy, but a FUCKING LIAR because I cursed my way up that entire mountain!  At the top, an elderly gentleman was saying, “Let’s go, runners! It’s downhill from here!” I pointed at him and yelled, “Is that true? Is it downhill? Don’t lie to me, dude!” He chuckled and reassured me there would be no more big hills. 

At Mile 15, the course does an out-and-back. It was pretty desolate along the river and I distracted myself by watching the pain on the faces of the runners already looping back toward the finish. What can I say? Misery loves company! 

It picked up once we got to Manayunk – it seemed like the entire town came out to yell and scream and cheer for us. There was a beer station, people were passing out brownie bits and gels and lined up all down the sidewalks, they were AMAZING. At Mile 21 stood two guys with a pan of – what else – BACON!   I was so exhausted and maybe slightly delirious at that point. I sprinted over, waving my arms and yelling, “I FUCKING LOVE BACON!” like a madwoman, and shoved a handful of bacon in my mouth. 

Two of my friends were waiting for me at Mile 22. They jumped in and ran a bit with me, hooting and hollering and doing the YMCA to the music blasting in the background. After a few yards, they left me with screams of “Any idiot can run another 4 miles!” and I ran on. I never hit the wall, but my muscles were so tight and exhausted, my back hurt, my hips hurt, my neck hurt.

I started playing mindgames with myself, saying I would run to that stoplight, and when I got there, I would tell myself to run to that storage house over there, and so on. I was TIRED, but every step took me that much closer to the finish line. It felt like I was running so slowly, but I was still running and I wasn’t about to stop.

The moment I saw the Art Museum appear out of the corner of my eye was the most relief-filled moment of my life. I wasn’t sure if they would make us loop like they did with the halfers, so the moment I saw the sign declaring “Mile 26,” I grit my teeth and sprinted as hard I could at that point toward the finish line. When I crossed, I was too exhausted to even contemplate what I’d just done; I just wanted a hot bath! Without a Garmin, I have no idea what my mile splits were like, but I crossed the finish line with a chip time of 4:35:06. Fine with me, the higher the time, the better chance to PR next time around.

 

Finally! I Can Stop Running!

I’m sore today, but not as sore I thought I would be. Half of me is wiping my hands clean of the whole marathon business. The other half has already forgotten about the sheer exhaustion and pain and is already plotting for the next training cycle.  As the saying goes…”Why do I keep hitting myself with a hammer? Because it feels so damn good when I stop.

 

Rocky Kicked Asphalt!

(And of course…food report to come later!)