I Ran A Marathon

...So this blog is over now, right?

HAHAHAHA NO, I think you mean I ran the first of many marathons because my life is still quite young. Already for sure I'm going to run Grandma's next June.

Marathon. I ran it.

It was so hard, you guys. Both physically and mentally. Michael and I drove down at 4:30 in the morning, and I spent the whole ride thinking about it, and wondering what the hell I was doing. I mean, I knew what I was doing. But I couldn't quite wrap my mind around it.

Rails to Trails was awesome, because it was so small. Only 122 people ran the marathon, and it was in this dinky little park to start, and there was no tension at the line-up... I had just finished taking my jacket off, and then suddenly they sounded a horn to start, so I just went. That was nice, the tension of a big build-up to the race makes me very nervous, even at a 5K. Here, I just ran. Just like standing at the edge of my driveway, pressing "Go" on my phone, and starting to run. Simple.

It was easy, at first. Well, it was like a normal run for me at first, I should say. I just ran. Comfortably. Trying to keep myself around 8:30 pace, so that I could give myself a bit of a buffer for later. That wasn't hard. It felt good. I ate and drank when it felt right. The first glass of Powerade was like a magical injection of happiness. I could feel it working.

The tunnel was amazing. The tunnel was the best part of the whole race (apart from the end, hahaha). It was a bit over a mile, a dark and creepy limestone railway tunnel with water pouring down the walls and dripping from the ceiling, lit at intervals by lanterns. The atmosphere was magical. It was ice cold, and something happened to me in the tunnel. I just took off. It didn't hurt, it didn't feel wrong, I just went fast. Too fast, probably.

But guess what! The same thing happened on the way back! At mile 14, I started to feel like I was in trouble, even with letting my pace drop to 9:30s. I picked up Michael around mile 16 or so, and we hit the tunnel around mile... 20? I spent those miles begging for death in my head, and begging for the tunnel out loud. As soon as we got inside, my breathing changed (from panic-attack to strong and rhythmic). I got faster. I got focused. Magical tunnel powers. I was a staggering wreck before that, and I was still a wreck after that, but I got my focus back thanks to the magical tunnel. Maybe it was the enclosed space. Maybe it was the narrow focused light at the end. Whatever it was, it changed me. When we exited, I felt like all the wind got sucked out of me again, but I had had a taste of what good running felt like again, and so I could keep going...

This is not to say that it is only because of the magic tunnel that I was able to finish well. Michael was my running hero, and definitely made all the difference between giving up and walking to the end, and pushing through the pain and running anyway. (This is not to say that I didn't walk a wee bit. I did. But never for long). He drove me and fed me and told me to breathe, he encouraged me and gave me water and endless endless endless positivity and good cheer. I'm overwhelmed with gratitude for his support and cannot emphasize enough how much he contributed to my success and my growth in running. I'll never ever forget that.

He told me, it's still going to hurt afterwards, but it's a good pain.

I'm in a lot of pain right now, this morning. I was in pain pretty much the entire rest of yesterday too. But it's true. I like it. No matter how much it hurts, I know that every action I'm doing is towards recovery (and not more pain, because I'm not running right now! Haha!).

I like the pain because it reminds me of what I just did. I like it because it makes me feel alive and mobile and appreciative of the things I can do when I'm not in pain. And I like it because it gives me a viable excuse to sit in bed today and work on my NaNoWriMo novel ;)


I may have mentioned this before, but even though 6 months ago I decided that I would train for and run a marathon, after having not run anything for 9 months after doing a 5K at one point... I couldn't conceptualize actually doing it. I could see the little things: run 30 minutes, run 60 minutes, do strides. But I couldn't imagine myself actually doing the big thing I set out to do. And to be honest, that hurt my training overall. I didn't train as hard or as strong as I could, or should, have because I didn't have a grip on what it was I was actually aiming for.

As I was running, I saw my goals slowly drop. Don't walk? Failed. Run under 4 hours? Failed.

With each moment of realizing I wasn't going to do it, I wanted to chew my own arm off. I was left with one goal.

Finish a marathon? That, I am fucking doing.

(Also towards the end, Michael pointed out this girl ahead of me, and told me I was going to pass her. So I did).

When I finished, those other goals didn't seem to matter anymore.

Now, I understand a little better what it is to run a marathon. I will train better, harder, smarter for my next one.


What more can I say at the end?

I ran in 4:08. I had the best support I could have ever asked for. I had a shower and a nap and a weird dream about onions. I felt high as hell and just ran at the mouth for the whole drive back. I got two flavors of gelato. I feel really happy and accomplished and I want to do it again. **

Cheers and thanks for reading!




**obviously, no posts about running for a while. But maybe about other stuff tangental to running :)