I had a great run.
Don't get me wrong....
It did not feel great, especially at the end, but it was still a great run.
This is the short version of my RR:
I felt GREAT for the first 10 miles! Then I felt pretty good for the next 6 miles. Then I really did not feel very good for the next 6 miles after that. Then I really wanted to collapse on the ground and cry and have someone carry me home. Then I saw the end and it looked about five thousand miles away and I ran like a wild woman with hands and legs flailing all over the place and spit coming out my nose and eyes and mouth and then I was there!! And I crossed the line! And....And....
WTF! They so don't catch you like they do in IM. I wanted a catch! Instead. I staggered a bit and then some very stand-offish dude said, Nice Job. Now keep walking.
Isn't that just about the essence of the marathon???
****GREAT!/ Good.../not so good/ Dear GOD end soon or I will die for sure/....THE END THE END THE END! Stagger.****
______ Long Version of RR:
The pre-race festivities were lovely... until about 10 minutes before the start. I was hanging with my friend Zac (who went a 2:54!! GO Zac!) and my new friend Teresa. We had a leisurely stroll to the athlete village, and then a leisurely pee after waiting in line at the porta-potties, and then we went to drop our bags off at bag check. Except.... where was bag check? Too late we realized that bag drop off was like a mile away. And it was 10 minutes til go time....
Oh yeah... there was a big OH FUCK right about that point.
Zac took our bags and ran them out to the baggage check.
He is a God.
I will be eternally grateful to Zac. You are the man. I owe you like 500 Guinness. Thank you.
Meanwhile Teresa and I started jogging to our corral. We kept jogging. And jogging. We were in corral eight of nine. There were 8000 people in front of us. We had to go like a mile down to the road to get to our starting point. Then, once the gun went off, it took us more than five minutes to get back up the road to the starting line. Insane!
The first miles were very difficult... because I am not patient. Boston is an insidious course. It starts downhill for the first 4 miles. I ask you, who needs 4 miles of downhill at the START of a marathon? And more importantly, who needs four miles of uphill starting at mile 17? That is like a super cruel joke. Really. It is.
I tried to hold back, but I felt like I was running on air. It felt SO easy. But I had to hold back. You can't jackrabbit a marathon--even if it does start downhill. My patience was further tested because there were, well, 8000 runners ahead of me, and there was literally no room to move. Between trying to keep a reasonable pace and continually getting boxed in, I felt like a caged animal.
This feeling pretty much lasted until mile 10. I felt super, but I also felt pissy. I knew I could fly, but I couldn't.grrrr. Get out of my way!!
By mile 13 I no longer felt boxed in, but there were still people all around me. However, at this point I was no longer holding back anyway. I was just holding. I felt good, sort of... but certainly not quite as super as I had been feeling at mile 10. Still, I had no doubt I could keep pace. And I did. For four more miles.
I saw my mother and father in-law at about mile 15, and that was a boost. Then I saw Andy and the kids at mile 15.75, and that was a huge boost! My kids had this sweet sign Jordan had painted... Go Mom! Keep Running! SO adorable. I will keep it forever.
Unfortunately, the sign did not prevent me from the feeling the inevitable. Soon after I passed them I started to no longer feel good--at all. In fact, I felt barely tolerable. I knew I could continue on indefinitely, but frankly, I wasn't too psyched about what the next 10 miles might hold.
I hit the first hill. Ewwwww. Then that was over and I was all good again. I saw my athlete, Kelly. Big Boost. Then another hill...and ewwwwww. Wow. My pace was really dropping. Then it was flattish, and I was okay, but really, well, hurting. And then there was Heartbreak Hill... ewwwwww
At this point I drew strength from my two marathon IM experiences. I had felt so much worse during those marathons. And here? Well sure, I hurt. But was I barfing? no. Was I shitting? no. Was I about to pass out? no. Okay then. I was fine. Just run and stop your bitching, self. Just run.
By mile 21 I was feeling maybe a little loopy and definitely achy, and I had definitely slowed down, but I noted that I was passing many people, so even though my pace had slowed considerably, I was still doing better than some others. That is always a boost, don't you think?... I may feel like crap, but I'm sure I don't look as bad as that dude...
The last miles of the race were really a blur. I hurt. I hurt everywhere. I was being passed, but I was also passing people. I really had to talk myself through... Okay... only 5k. You can do a 5k. Okay... only 2.5 That is nothing. Only one mile. Mary... you have this. Just don't crack. etc etc. Until the very last step.
I crossed the line at 3:15:54. I had hoped for as fast as a 3:13... but I was still very very very very happy with a 3:15... (no matter how high that 3:15!) I had to run 6:55 pace for the last .3 to get that 3:15, so I am so giving myself credit for squeezing in under the 3:16 mark!
Ahhhh ... finished.
After I finished things weren't so good, though.
I felt ... cold. Like immediately. And they make you walk and walk and walk and walk. My bag was so far away...
By the time I had found my way to baggage claim I was shaking--really quite badly. I got the bag, and then tried to find Sharon, my ride home and also the person who would take me to my friend Jeff's (Sharon's husband) office, which was walking distance and I could get changed there.
The only problem was that along with shaking I started to get disoriented. I could not figure out how to get where I was to meet her. And then I couldn't remember her name.
And then I knew I was in big trouble.
I found an EMT and tapped him. I said, shaking, I'm really cold. He looked at me and then everything went very fast. I was in a wheel chair, and then the medical tent. I saw my friend Mark Scribner when I entered and he told me he would find a way to call Andy. And then there was a thermometer in my ear and a group of people putting me on my back and piling blankets on me. I was shaking so hard that I was convulsing, my jaw was so clenched I couldn't really talk, and the woman pushing me in the wheelchair said my facial coloring was blue when they had found me.
A little while later they asked me questions. I don't remember them really. I just know I could not remember Sharon, still, and I couldn't remember Andy's phone number! My temp had climbed to 91 degrees but it wasn't budging. Then they put this super cool blanket thing with a hot air device that blew up like a raft type thing over me. They put my head under it, and wouldn't let me out to peek unless they were pulling it back slightly to take my temperature. Soon after I was able to give them Andy's number, and I was also able to tell them where I was, my finishing time, my race number, and that my friend's name was Jeff. A+ for me!
At about 5 pm my temperature finally got to 97.5 degrees and I was set free. It was a happy moment, although to be quite frank I was slightly worried about leaving that super cool air blanket thing and getting chilled again. The doctor began to give me instructions, then changed his mind, turned to Andy and gave them to him instead. If she gets confused... and her temperature falls below 94... emergency room.
Isn't that an exciting story?
I am such a sucker for drama...
My temperature stayed fine, btw. I almost roasted Andy and my kids out of the car... but it was fine.
The important thing is that it wasn't my running that put me in the med tent. It was my post running situation, which I blame on the BAA for making the baggage claim a mile away from the damn finish. I love the Boston Marathon. But I won't be checking a bag again, that's for sure!
Congrats to all my friends who ran. The conditions were perfect, and I know many people had a great day. I had a great day too.
Thanks to Kurt. You are the best!
Thanks to Zac. Thanks to Mark. Thanks to ANDY for coming to save me!
and thanks for reading!