Race 2: The Columbus Marathon

Oct 18, 2011 13:48

In hindsight, having that title-themed entry thing was poorly thought out when the Part I of my racing history was back in May. But no matter. The Columbus Marathon of 2011 has come and gone, and I have thankfully lived to see another day.

Sean broke it to me the day before the race that he wasn't entering. His IT-band was giving him trouble, and between insufficient training and insufficient funds he just felt like he couldn't justify making the attempt. I was a little mad at first, partially because he bailed on this and the Tough Mudder (and the Cleveland Marathon, although I bailed on that too once I had no one to run with), but mostly because I was worried about running alone. Jeff and Alyssa interpreted this as me being worried I'd be alone if my hip injury set me off, so they gave me Jeff's mother's number, who apparently was supposed to be really nurturing and on top of her game. I resisted the urge to tell them that the real reason I wanted Sean running by my side was so that I would always have someone to push me harder if I start to hurt - I figured that would ruin the gesture.

Since Alyssa and Jeff paired up to run together, Alyssa set me up with her brother Dan (who, since there are many Dans in my journal already, we can just call Dan Getta, or Dgetta). He was also looking to run the marathon, and run "injured slow," so we got along nicely. Talking to him made it seem like our mileage was about the same, so I felt pretty good. The only thing is, Alyssa's brother is known for being a tad spacey with time perceptions. The morning she wanted to bring us together to suggest partnership, he overslept in his hotel and nearly missed breakfast. And, similarly, he was late the morning of the marathon.

Alyssa, Jeff and I split up looking for him, but when the gun went off Alyssa and Jeff started to look frantic. They gave me a sort of puppy-eyed begging look, and I told them to just go. I said I'd look for DGetta on my own so that he couldn't ruin all of our races. After several "I hate my brother. I hate my brother. I hate my brother!" rants, Alyssa and Jeff agreed and took off. I waited around for a good while, and even had one of the bands playing call out his name on the announcement system, but when enough time went by I decided I couldn't wait any longer. I was already questioning whether I could finish, and I didn't want to wear myself out before I even crossed the starting line. With no choice, I had to enter the race alone.

The first thirteen miles, I'm proud to say I actually ran negative splits. Granted, I was going pretty slowly at first at the advice of a few Boston runners I met - I was going about 12:00 minute pace for the first mile, and then worked my way down to 7:50-8:00 pace for mile thirteen. I did this for a few reasons. For the most part, I wanted to catch up to DGetta, hoping he'd be just up ahead and I could get my running number and chip from him (we compiled stuff in one car when we planned on running together, which in hindsight was foolish of me). Although I also really wanted to get as far as I could before my hip pain set in and ruined my time. It felt good knowing I could probably run a decent half marathon later if I ever wanted to do so.

I managed to finish the half before my hip started to hurt around mile fourteen. The sharp pain, by this point, was something I was very much acquainted with - and in my own head, I trained too long and traveled too far and spent too much money on getting there to quit just yet. I kept pushing my hip, running through what could only be described as the feeling of someone kicking my hip every other step, until my hip officially gave out around mile 24. Just after the 24th mile marker, I fell over and had a little trouble getting back up. Having to put all of my weight on my left leg to get up, I tried twice more to start jogging before realizing that my leg just wasn't going to be able to make that jogging motion anymore. At this point, the Red Cross officials tried to pull me out of the race to give me assistance, which I actively refused, limping away.

I limped the final 2.2 miles to the finish line, dragging my bum leg and doing my best to refrain from screaming or acknowledging the pain out loud. With my one good leg, I sort of caterpilared my way forward, throwing some weight in the direction of the finish line and then dragging the rest to catch up. If I put any more weight on my right leg, it would hurt so much that I lost my balance. Some people tried to offer me electrolytes pills, while others encouraged me not to give up. Really, the encouragement from other runners can be astounding sometimes.

About forty minutes later, as I closed in on the finish line, I was still limping about the same way, and at some point I caught a glimpse of Jeff and his mother. Jeff's mom saw me and screamed, not entirely sure what happened to me, then she followed me all the way down the finish line chute. When I crossed the finish line, I collapsed.

Jeff's mom said "something-something-I'm-here-for-you-I'm-so-proud," but it was hard to completely make out once I started to get a little out of it. The Red Cross people lifted me and put me in a wheelchair, and then carted me towards the medical center. They pushed me past the person giving medals, and I sort of screamed out to them and reached, but to no avail. Despite also having just finished a marathon, Jeff sprinted down the chute to go talk to one of the staff. He told them I flew here from Boston, and limped my way through the finish line, and explained that I technically didn't have a bib or chip but I should still get a medal anyway. The guy took one look at me, and said "Oh, he's definitely getting a medal." The crew member passed a medal my way, and someone put it around my neck. I wasn't sure if it was Jeff or someone else - I was still kind of dizzy from the pain.

They kept me in their medical center for a little while, and concluded that the brunt of the damage was from my IT-band, of all things. "Something-something-damaged-my-IT-band, something-something-further-complications-with-my-hip-afterwards" was about all I heard. But I rest easy, knowing that I finished and I had a medal. The nurse stretched my legs out for me a bit, which made me feel a little better, and after they iced me and stretched me some more they gave me some pamplets and crutched me back outside.

When I finally caught up with Jeff and his mother, I learned that Alyssa's new boyfriend came down to surprise her, and that they seemed to have wandered off somewhere. Compared to Sean bailing, I wasn't that upset - and considering I finished, I didn't really care that much anyway. But Jeff also filled me in on the fact that DGetta did in fact start without me, but much like me he hoped to catch up with me later, so he ran with my bib number and chip the entire way. Because the announcer was going by chips crossing checkpoints, he mentioned "Let's give Chalkey and Dan a round of applause" as Dan finished, despite Dan noticeably running by himself. The back of my running shirt also read "Chalkey," and Jeff said he remembered the announcer requesting the audience applaud for me as I hobbled down the chute. It amused me to think of the announcer mentioning me finishing twice, and I secretly hoped that the medical team would coordinate with the race crew and realize that I hobbled in about an hour and a half after I had allegedly already finished.

Back at the house, Sean informed me that he volunteered with the race crew as part of the Red Cross, and that he was actually there somewhere. Between me being out of it and another runner who injured his knee at Sean's post, we didn't cross paths all that much - but he said he tried to be there for me if I needed him, which made me feel a little better. Jared was there too, and we celebrated our victory with Chipotle (which they told me was a Qdoba until we pulled in, much to my rage).

So, as far as I'm concerned, I did what I set out to do this year. Obviously, my time could have been better, but I feel like the injury in itself gave me another accomplishment. Looking back, I predominantly wanted to make conference in Wooster (top twelve on the team at the second to last race to get into the final race) to make up for the fact that I missed out on the Portage Invitational back in high school (where the top 14 on the team could go - I was 15th). But with both races, I felt immense regret for not pushing harder while I still had the chance. I told myself, "Maybe if I were tougher I could have fought through the pain, gotten stronger and made my goals." But on Sunday, when I kept running on my injury, I proved that those times have changed. I now knew I could take a great load of pain, and furthermore that something as simple as injury would not stop me from doing something I set my mind to. I felt like I proved my mental capacities far more than my physical, and I think in a way that may have been what I wanted all along.

Yesterday was pretty much resting. Today will be pretty much the same. Now that I've finally crossed "run a marathon" off my bucket list, I think I've earned a little rest for now.

-Didroy
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