I ran my second marathon yesterday. After I had finished the first one last year, and reunited with my family, my dad asked, "So you gonna do it again next year?" I told him to ask me again in a week.
The thing is, the marathon is not my favorite distance. It requires a lot of time to train; about 6 months and many weekends of double digit miles. I was always a little unsure about it, but figured it was something I needed to cross off my bucket list. At the end of it, I was exhausted but so proud of myself. I decided to come back and try again this year, albeit a bit reluctantly.
In the past 6 months, I've had an insane race schedule, with 23 races over the last 23 weeks. I've spent the last month focusing on LAM, coming home from a race and doing additional miles to ensure I got my long runs in. I was super nervous the last two weeks, but come race morning, I knew I was as ready as I could be.
It was supposed to be much warmer than usual for February, although slightly less hot than last year. I had plenty of carbs and fluids the days before the race and I approached the finish line nervous but positive. I had a clear goal in mind, as well as a plan B goal. Now, it always takes me 2 miles to get into a groove, no matter the race distance. Although I tried to hold back, the first two miles in the race are pretty much straight downhill, so of course those were my fastest. Unfortunately, I never quite got into the groove. Every step was a struggle, and I kept telling myself to just be patient and move forward. Mile 5 it was apparent that the runner's high wasn't coming. I had a pretty steady pace though. And this race has the best course support I've ever experienced. Literally people cheering around every corner. People passing out pretzels, orange slices, bananas, water. So I was feeding off the energy of those around me.
Miles 6 through 10 I was cruising along pretty nicely. In fact, I think those were my best miles. They weren't easy, but I had enough mental focus to push through. Mile 10 was along Hollywood Boulevard in Hollywood and although I've run that stretch of road in at least a dozen races, it's one of my favorites because of its familiarity. You've got the Museum of Death (morbid, I know, and also a really odd spot to put the Port-a-Potties), the Pantages Theater, El Capitan, Madame Tussaud's, etc. You know, all the Hollywood touristy stuff that you see in movies but rarely go to in real life. (Even though I've been to all those places in the last year, but that's besides the point =P).
Anyhoo, one of the IERC pacers passed me at this point and asked if I wanted to stay with them. I was fading from my current pace and was so thankful for the company. That group really saved me. I stayed with them until mile 15ish when they lost me. We had been in a huge group of people and a small gap turned into a larger one until I couldn't see the pacer anymore.
At Mile 16, I was moderately relieved, and Mile 17 brought about better spirits. That's about where you run through Rodeo Drive, which is simply gorgeous. Then I got to the first IERC support tent and it was great seeing some friendly faces, getting a PBJ sandwich, and an ice cold towel. Spirits renewed, I took it one mile at a time from there on out. Mile 17 was a mental bridge I was all too thrilled to pass because it meant I had single digit miles left. 9 miles. I can do 9 miles. Then 8 miles. Then 7 miles. However, as we approached Mile 20, I was forcing myself to run. My feet hurt. My quads were feeling tight. My calves were threatening to cramp at every moment. Luckily IERC had a support tent at Mile 20, and right before the turn into that mile marker I was given a chocolate milk and applesauce pouch. I hate milk so the fact that I was happy to get that can tell you how delirious I may have been at that point. More PBJ's at the support tent, along with a new ice towel and I was off.
At this point, I was really discouraged. I was an hour off my goal time and I kept having flashbacks to last year's Mile 20 moment. Last year that had been my defining moment. I knew if I could just get to Mile 20 I would have no problem finishing. I had been so excited to be there and to see my parents at the support tent. I remember giving them both a hug, getting a quick drink, and taking off again, so excited to be so close to the finish line. This time, there was none of that excitement. It was too much of a struggle and comparing the two races was such a huge mental mistake that I just couldn't stop from happening.
 |
| The view from Mile 2 |
A mile later, there was a group giving out shots of beer, which wasn't a lot, but gave me a great mini boost of energy. Super boring portion of the race, but oh well. I found myself saying, "Shut up legs, you're almost there" over and over again. Literally. Pretty sure I said that every step of the way from mile 21 to mile 23 where the last IERC tent was. The great thing about running with a group or having spectators is that they see you wearing the club shirt and even though they may not know you personally, they are so happy to see you and offer help. That last club tent gave me more food, soda, and happy faces. It was just what I needed.
 |
| "26.2 miles of Single Awareness" |
I wish I could say that with only 3 miles to go that I knew I would make it and was finally on a roll. But no. I was still questioning my ability to cross that finish line. It just seemed so far away. I kept telling myself that my feet didn't hurt. That my legs weren't cramping. That they hurt but if they just kept going for a little bit longer it would be over and they could rest then. I told myself I was stronger and prepared. That I could do this. That I would finish and get that medal. And I ran. Slowly. But I couldn't allow myself to walk because I didn't trust my legs anymore. So I pushed and pushed and pushed some more. One lovely lady looked over at me as I ran next to her (she was walking and we were at the same pace. Oh well) and said, "Good job. I can't believe you're running. I just don't have the energy. You're doing so great." I could have hugged her. Totally what I needed to hear at that moment. I still had a mile left at that point, but it was probably the first time in the whole race I knew I would finish.
Turning onto Ocean Avenue was emotional for me. You can see the ocean and feel the breeze and although you can't immediately see it, I knew the finish line was near. As I got to the end of the finish line spectators I heard my name being cheered on and saw Tracy (a friend from high school) with a couple of running club ladies cheering me on. And then I crossed the finish line and proceeded to let the last emotions I had left stream out in the form of tears. Literally could not stop crying. I was so spent emotionally and physically, and crossing that finish line was the end I wasn't sure I would get to see. I found a spot to sit and wait the tears out, which is where I finally took a picture to share on social media. Seeing it after, I'm surprised I was able to conjure up a real smile in that moment. I was so proud of myself for finishing but also feeling so stupid for having that reaction. A marathon will do that to you though.
By the end, I was definitely hurting. I had that post-marathon swagger down. I went and got my additional medal (more on that next time) and then found my parents and sat down to process a bit. I had 2 goals for this race and missed both of them. By a lot. But you know what? It's really not about that. My real number 1 goal was to finish. Because when you start a marathon (or really any race) finishing is not a guarantee. It doesn't matter how many hours, weeks, or even months you've trained for this thing. You set out and all you can do is try to do your best. For me, my best was finishing when every fiber in my body was telling me to quit. So, it may not be a distance I love, or even like. In fact, I may very well hate this distance. But I'll be back. LAM may have kicked my butt this time, but I guarantee I'll be stronger for the next one. Only 397 days until LAM 2017. ;)
And you know, 167 days until my next full marathon. Because apparently I enjoy this kind of torture. <3
When I say this was a small race, I mean it. With only 100 people in the 5k and 30 in the 10k, its definitely the smallest race I've ever been a part of. This pretty much meant that as a back-of-the-pack runner, there were very few people around with me. I had 2 women in front of me and 1 man in back of me for pretty much the entire race, and I must say, that was really good motivation to keep moving. I tried to keep the distance between all of us steady, which was difficult during the hills. Once you hit mile 2.5 there's a half mile of uphill that turns a bit at the top so you can't see the top while you're going up it. And you only go back downhill about halfway before you turn and it levels out again. And then the stretch before the mile 4 marker....oh man! At this point the 4 of us were at our closest to each other, but it was also a moment of truth for all of us because it was the steepest hill of the race. I was determined to not take any walk breaks, especially since I didn't want to fall behind.
Now, I should say that while my training plan did call for 6 miles, it called for an "easy" 6 miles. I don't think these hills exactly qualified as easy but I figured if I was going a comfortable pace, I would be fine. And being my longest (and fastest) run since LAM, I must say, I was proud of my pace. I felt super strong until mile 4.7 when the course had been flat for about a half mile and I started feeling the pace. I didn't hit a wall by any means, but I definitely started to feel the heat of no shade and was ready for the race to be over. What got me through it? I told myself, "Megan is running a full marathon right now, get over yourself and finish!" I picked up the pace and got moving. 
