Race Report
Standing at the starting line of the Martian Marathon on April 1, I was scared to death. I'd put in the training through rain, snow, wind, sub-zero temperatures, and dead batteries in my MP3 player. I had no reason to doubt myself. But all morning, I'd been hearing horror stories. The whole ride to Dearborn Heights, with three experienced marathoners in my car: "The first marathon I ran, I almost got taken away in an ambulance," and "at mile 22, I was having homocidal throughts and almost attacked the woman who was talking to me." Once we arrived at the race site, any complete stranger who learned it was my first marathon also kindly offered an unsolicited marathon horror story. I had reason to believe that within hours, I would either be in the hospital, or in jail.
I couldn't have asked for better weather, and I knew that had to be some kind of good omen. It was cloudy, in the low 50s, with a slight drizzle falling off and on. I wore shorts and a long-sleeved t-shirt, with a sleeveless vest for pockets. I also had on thin gloves and a hat. I was a bit overdressed, but I would end up rolling up my sleeves and ditching the gloves and hat, and I never got overheated.
The race I was running consisted of a marathon, half-marathon, 10K (which had a separate start), and a training run (pay $10 and run any distance you want). I had support the whole way. My friends Katie and Everett had signed up for the training run, and were going to run part of the race with me. My friend Nancy planned to jump in at mile 18 and run the last 8. And Brad was my support staff. He would meet me at several points for pictures, clothes drop, snacks, and moral support. The course was a bit confusing, so I'd decided to run with my cell phone for logistical purposes. It was a bad idea, but I'll get to that later.
I was a bit stiff for the first 6 miles, but then the adrenaline kicked in and I started to feel fantastic. I couldn't believe I was actually here, on the course, running a marathon. The 10:20-per-mile pace was starting to feel uncomfortably slow, and people were passing us left and right. I inadvertently started to speed up, but Katie -- who was taking splits -- warned me to take it easy after we ran mile 10 in 8:50. I figured she knew what she was talking about, so I backed off. I was barely breathing hard, so I called Nancy to make sure she was still coming, and I checked in with Brad to see where he was meeting us. "Taking my phone was a great idea!" I thought. Until about mile 16. I was starting to feel a little fatigued when I received phone calls from both Brad and Nancy, who were having trouble with he (as we later learned) awful course map, and couldn't figure out where we were. Now, I had told them repeatedly to CALL ME! if they had any questions. But after the third phone call, unzipping my back pocket to take out the mobile had gotten old. When I hit mile 17, I was in the middle of a "where are you? I don't know, where are YOU?" conversation with Nancy when Brad beeped in. At that point, I was ready to throw my phone into a nearby stream. I had a few choice words for poor Brad, who was just doing what I'd asked. "Where are you?" he asked me. "I'm on the MARATHON COURSE. Where the %^$#$Q@ do you THINK I am?!" I shouted. Everett promptly took my phone away from me and said he would answer my calls from now on. I practically burst into tears of relief.
At mile 18.5, just when I was afraid I was close to hitting the proverbial "wall," I saw a bright orange-clad woman jumping up and down and yelling. Nancy! Despite the awful course map, she managed to find us! Everett turned around and left me with Nancy, who was a godsend. She was fresh, peppy (but not too peppy), and had plenty of brand-new stories to tell me. Seeing her gave me a burst of energy, and even as we ran past mile 19, I felt okay. I was exhausted, and my legs -- knees, ankles, feet, calves -- were on the verge of pain, but not enough pain to slow me down. We passed mile 20, 21, 22, 23, and I was waiting for my own horror story, but I honestly kept feeling better and better. I was still chatting and laughing, and the two of us didn't get passed once. Everyone else on the course at that point looked like a zombie from "Night of the Living Dead," mindlessly migrating towards some unseen magnetic force, and we passed them all.
At mile 24, I looked at my watch. My goal had been to break 5 hours. But I had factored in plenty of walking breaks and that zombie-like shuffling. In reality, the only breaks I'd taken were to walk through the aid stations and to duck behind a tree at mile 14 (there were bathrooms on the course, but I'm just not a bathroom-during-a-race kind of girl). I knew I was going to finish between 4:20 and 4:30, which was beyond my wildest dreams. Nothing hurt after that. I saw the mile 25 sign and felt like I was floating. Wall? What wall? At that point I felt like I could run forever. I was probably delirious, but hey, I wasn't complaining.
When I saw the finish line, I was overcome by emotion. I had waited so long for this moment...not 4 hours, not 5 months, but 14 years. Since the day I joined the seventh-grade cross country team in 1992, I'd wanted to finish a marathon. I heard a loud roar and saw my friends and family -- Katie, Everett, Brad, Nancy's husband Mark, their kids, my brother and his girlfriend -- and I felt like a rock star. I crossed the finish line grinning from ear to ear with my hands in the air. My final time was 4:24:35.
I felt a little woozy for the first few minutes, but once my body figured out it was OK to stop moving, that feeling went away. The next hour was one of the coolest hours of my life -- I ate pizza, drank water, and basked in the glow of finishing the marathon and wearing the medal around my neck. Then I started thinking: I have way too much energy. I had way too much energy at the finish line! I never hit the wall, and never felt like I wanted to quit. Beginner's luck, or should I have run faster? Stupid cell phone. I could have finished in 4:19!
But that will remain to be seen, because now I have a new mountain to climb: a half-Ironman. On August 5, I will be swimming 1.2 miles, biking 56, and running 13.1 in Benton Harbor, Michigan. (Oh, and this little thing called a wedding two months later!) But I'll be back.
Pictures
I couldn't have asked for better weather, and I knew that had to be some kind of good omen. It was cloudy, in the low 50s, with a slight drizzle falling off and on. I wore shorts and a long-sleeved t-shirt, with a sleeveless vest for pockets. I also had on thin gloves and a hat. I was a bit overdressed, but I would end up rolling up my sleeves and ditching the gloves and hat, and I never got overheated.
The race I was running consisted of a marathon, half-marathon, 10K (which had a separate start), and a training run (pay $10 and run any distance you want). I had support the whole way. My friends Katie and Everett had signed up for the training run, and were going to run part of the race with me. My friend Nancy planned to jump in at mile 18 and run the last 8. And Brad was my support staff. He would meet me at several points for pictures, clothes drop, snacks, and moral support. The course was a bit confusing, so I'd decided to run with my cell phone for logistical purposes. It was a bad idea, but I'll get to that later.
I was a bit stiff for the first 6 miles, but then the adrenaline kicked in and I started to feel fantastic. I couldn't believe I was actually here, on the course, running a marathon. The 10:20-per-mile pace was starting to feel uncomfortably slow, and people were passing us left and right. I inadvertently started to speed up, but Katie -- who was taking splits -- warned me to take it easy after we ran mile 10 in 8:50. I figured she knew what she was talking about, so I backed off. I was barely breathing hard, so I called Nancy to make sure she was still coming, and I checked in with Brad to see where he was meeting us. "Taking my phone was a great idea!" I thought. Until about mile 16. I was starting to feel a little fatigued when I received phone calls from both Brad and Nancy, who were having trouble with he (as we later learned) awful course map, and couldn't figure out where we were. Now, I had told them repeatedly to CALL ME! if they had any questions. But after the third phone call, unzipping my back pocket to take out the mobile had gotten old. When I hit mile 17, I was in the middle of a "where are you? I don't know, where are YOU?" conversation with Nancy when Brad beeped in. At that point, I was ready to throw my phone into a nearby stream. I had a few choice words for poor Brad, who was just doing what I'd asked. "Where are you?" he asked me. "I'm on the MARATHON COURSE. Where the %^$#$Q@ do you THINK I am?!" I shouted. Everett promptly took my phone away from me and said he would answer my calls from now on. I practically burst into tears of relief.
At mile 18.5, just when I was afraid I was close to hitting the proverbial "wall," I saw a bright orange-clad woman jumping up and down and yelling. Nancy! Despite the awful course map, she managed to find us! Everett turned around and left me with Nancy, who was a godsend. She was fresh, peppy (but not too peppy), and had plenty of brand-new stories to tell me. Seeing her gave me a burst of energy, and even as we ran past mile 19, I felt okay. I was exhausted, and my legs -- knees, ankles, feet, calves -- were on the verge of pain, but not enough pain to slow me down. We passed mile 20, 21, 22, 23, and I was waiting for my own horror story, but I honestly kept feeling better and better. I was still chatting and laughing, and the two of us didn't get passed once. Everyone else on the course at that point looked like a zombie from "Night of the Living Dead," mindlessly migrating towards some unseen magnetic force, and we passed them all.
At mile 24, I looked at my watch. My goal had been to break 5 hours. But I had factored in plenty of walking breaks and that zombie-like shuffling. In reality, the only breaks I'd taken were to walk through the aid stations and to duck behind a tree at mile 14 (there were bathrooms on the course, but I'm just not a bathroom-during-a-race kind of girl). I knew I was going to finish between 4:20 and 4:30, which was beyond my wildest dreams. Nothing hurt after that. I saw the mile 25 sign and felt like I was floating. Wall? What wall? At that point I felt like I could run forever. I was probably delirious, but hey, I wasn't complaining.
When I saw the finish line, I was overcome by emotion. I had waited so long for this moment...not 4 hours, not 5 months, but 14 years. Since the day I joined the seventh-grade cross country team in 1992, I'd wanted to finish a marathon. I heard a loud roar and saw my friends and family -- Katie, Everett, Brad, Nancy's husband Mark, their kids, my brother and his girlfriend -- and I felt like a rock star. I crossed the finish line grinning from ear to ear with my hands in the air. My final time was 4:24:35.
I felt a little woozy for the first few minutes, but once my body figured out it was OK to stop moving, that feeling went away. The next hour was one of the coolest hours of my life -- I ate pizza, drank water, and basked in the glow of finishing the marathon and wearing the medal around my neck. Then I started thinking: I have way too much energy. I had way too much energy at the finish line! I never hit the wall, and never felt like I wanted to quit. Beginner's luck, or should I have run faster? Stupid cell phone. I could have finished in 4:19!
But that will remain to be seen, because now I have a new mountain to climb: a half-Ironman. On August 5, I will be swimming 1.2 miles, biking 56, and running 13.1 in Benton Harbor, Michigan. (Oh, and this little thing called a wedding two months later!) But I'll be back.
Pictures