I wouldn’t say I cruised through the first 13.1 of my first marathon back in March. I was running unsustainably fast, as you do in a first. It was windy and cold, and I’m pretty sure, by that point, that I was missing a glove, which is like the kiss of death for someone is Raynaud’s. But considering, it was good. (Get ready for the tmi, but this is so necessary.) When I passed the 13-mile marker, the tummy-ache started. And I have a nearly medically diagnosed aversion to porta-johns. So I was in trouble. I figured it out, eventually and it involved a skanky public restroom. But what the heck had caused that gnarly, acute stomach upset?
20-miler
I ran my last 20 today before the end of October’s marathon. It wasn’t fast, but it was consistent, which is what is important to me. Even if I run this race slower, as long as I’m consistent, start to finish, I’ll have learned something, is how I feel. But I digress. I began my nutrition plan with two non-caffeinated items (Shot Bloks and and raspberry PowerGel), all about 6 miles apart. And then came the deadliest catch.
I found this at REI. And going down, it was pretty cool. For the consistency to be as raunchy as it was, it actually tasted kind of like what the label said, coffee. And the caffeine was amazing. 10 minutes later, I played raunchy Latin music, clapped, sang, and let out a “WOO” on more than one occasion. And then it hit. I couldn’t wait another minute without finding a bathroom. And I was sort of lost, as the trail that I was on abruptly ended, leaving me in a fancy neighborhood. And this time, I had to use this traumatizing public park men’s restroom. I was positive that when I entered the facility, I was going to find a body, but luckily, it was just a restroom that smelled of…I can’t even say it.
Long, and gross story short, I can’t do the caffeine, which makes me totally sad, because prior to the upsets, I’ve always felt awesome, and like 20 miles was no problem. But something about that combination really doesn’t agree with me. So Shot Bloks and decaffeinated Gels it is. Luckily, 20 miles felt totally awesome, and is leaving me feeling positive about my slow, slow race on October 26th.
Okay, not really, I’m never writing to make you feel bad about yourself.
This woman. She’s a schoolteacher. A marathoner? And she takes a wrong turn on a half course and runs the full. She didn’t just run the full though. She won the full. Get it here on Gawker. I pray, I pray, that the running gods will bestow upon me a teeny tiny bit of the magic she’s got, to allow her adrenaline (and obvious athletic gifts) to push her through. (Oh, and read the comments. There are some haters with a capital ‘H’ out there….)
I know guys. It’s not quite the a humble brag, which is defined as,
a brag statement artfully planted within a slightly deprecating statement; used in order to conceal pride that would otherwise be apparent by Urban Dictionary, but almost. It’s kinda like when you post a status about that 20-miler, but you do it under the guise of “Ugh omg, annoying Family Guy was totally on when I was running my 20-miler at an 8:47 pace. Gross!” What I did would slightly be considered the humble brag because I was sort of letting folks know I work out. But it has a place. As annoying at it is, the humble brag has a valuable place in health and fitness.
The following morning, my alarm went off at about 5:20 am, and I briefly considered closing my eyes, and going back to sleep. But I remembered that I’d posted that I was going to Yoga, and then the thought of deceiving my friends and family, or not being accountable for what I’d said I’d do really made me feel uncomfortable. Plus, I wanted to get my Yoga on!
So say what you will about people who post the details of their workouts on social media, and no, we’re not talking about you who posted about tying your shoes too tight, let’s not get into the minutiae of how your workout went, however, posting about your 5k, posting about nailing a pose in yoga, posting about hitting the gym 5 times instead of your usual 3, for example, is okay, and encouraging, both to others, (believe it or not, family and friends may be inspired by your actions), and it holds you accountable to a WHOLE LOT of people. So keep up the humble brags. Well, sorta, I don’t care if you’re gonna be douchey about it, but if it keeps you accountable? Keep it up!
About 3 days after I completed my marathon, an awful awful feeling started creeping in.
Days 1 and 2 were filled with a little bit of disbelief. Except for the profound ache in my quads, I wasn’t quite sure I’d done it.
And then came the postpartum depression.
Literally, I was overwhelmed by this sense that I could have done better. That I, and my race time, was a disappointment to friends and family. That I hadn’t worked hard enough initially, and that’s why I hadn’t pulled an Olympian time. I started to feel antsy. That I immediately needed to sign up for something else, to begin training, and to “redeem” myself in a sense.
I explained this to Yoga Kerri a few days later at work, and she, as well as a few others, explained that the race was about me, and not anyone else. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thought. My time was nothing to sniff at. I’d done it. I’d enjoyed the experience. And I wanted to do it again, and if I did it better (and one day qualified for Boston and then had a really sweet jacket to proudly wear about as people marveled about my beauty and strength), then so be it.
I don’t know who I was comparing myself to. But I have a lot to be proud of.
I finished a marathon
I ran the entire time, the way I wanted to
I felt relatively good the entire time
I created a training plan, and stuck to it
I’d gladly do it again
So raise your glass (of low-cal Gatorade), and cheers to not comparing yourself to anyone else. Do you!
I won’t lie to you and tell you I felt (physically) like a million bucks after. In fact, the day after, I felt quite horrid. Not like anything was hurt, I’ll-never-walk-again horrid, but like, quads were like ::side eye:: hips were like what in the world?!
Three days out and I feel great. I did a little walk/jog thing on the treadmill last night to get the juices flowing. I’m ready for a really short, easy run today, and nothing more. But I’m so ready to sign up for another. SO ready. So ready to do better with my time. So ready to plan out better. So ready to take an extra day off work so I can actually enjoy the beer they give you after. So ready to bring a few more friends and let them get addicted to it (in a good way) like I am! So ready for better weather (here’s hoping) for the next one!
So I’m not sure when. But soonish. I’d like to take on this beast again.
If you’re thinking about running a marathon, and you’re kind of playing around with the idea, DO IT. It’s like the best feeling of accomplishment next to graduating with a Masters or an undergraduate degree after a long hard road. It’s like you work toward it, you work toward it, and OH LOOK! Now it’s here, and you finally get to see your hard work pay off. It’s really neat. So a few marathon tips, and a little insight into Shamrock?
Post-race, they gave us all blankets for the trek home!
You need a hotel? Get one that’s walkable. Now’s not the time to be getting yourself a motel in the hood. Because you’re gonna be feeling some type of way when you finish, only to realize that you paid to park in a sketchy parking lot, and that you’ve got to ride around, smelling like a locker room, to the Sundial Inn, or worse, the Motel 6. Just spring for the extra.
Bring a friend. If you can convince someone to do it with you, I think that makes it way better, and the two of you can encourage each other. You and aforementioned homie don’t need to be pace buds, but even to check into the hotel with, to eat a few meals with, to walk around the expo, and to encourage each other is fun and fine! I brought Jenny, who was quite a bit faster than I am, but we bounced some good energy between the two of us, and it worked out!
Aquaphor.
My only battle scar (because I Aquaphored) was a welt from the seaming in my tights. Once I realized what was going on, I was 20 miles in, and it was too late for me to be messing with my leg.
Be prepared for things to go not exactly how you planned them out in your head on race day. You do everything you’re supposed to. That doesn’t mean the weather or the course will. The weather this weekend, quite frankly, sucked a big fat one. It was beautiful and breezy on Saturday. On race day? Overcast, cold, and a few rain drops, though the rain held off until after we scooted. The course also was a little longer than 26.2 miles, which I’m investigating right now. Oh well, you can’t do anything about it once you’re in the thick of the race, right? So just solider on!
We were crossing our fingers and praying for some good weather, but we didn’t get it. Oh well! At least the rain held off. It was rather freezing and windy, though!
Throwaway clothing. Not kidding. These cheap articles of clothing are going to save. Your. Life. Over the top of my adorable little green cap-sleeved tech shirt and compression 3/4 length pantaloons, I threw this horrific hoodie with holes in it over the top, as well as a slouchy pair of sweats. I was able to, in the pocket of the hoodie, put some hotties, to keep my Raynaud’s-afflicted hands warm while we stood around and waited for the elites and the first corral to get moving. I had gloves as well, which were thrown away around 20-some-odd miles because I could not get them back on my hands. Oh well. RIP Brooks gloves. You served me well this past winter. But someone else is enjoying you now.
Be sweet to the volunteers, cause they’re gonna be so sweet to you! I understand why these road races cost so much. They put a LOT into them to make sure that we’re rolling relatively comfortably for 26+ miles. The volunteers stood out in the freezing cold for close to 5.5 hours, holding little cups of water, Gatorade, bananas, cookies, and gels to make sure we could cruise successfully. They clapped, they cheered, and at the end, stood out on the even-colder beach to make sure I was given a finishers medal and a wonderfully warm fleece blanket. My hands were too cold to open the packaging my blanket came in at the end and a volunteer busted open the package and turned me around to put it on my shoulders. As a final note, my apologies to the little girl who I spilled water on. Total accident.
Draw on the strength of your friends, family, and other well-wishers. You’re gonna need it. Play their voices in your head. Think about your mom. Think about your friends. Think about the random folks who’ve wished you well. Think of your ancestors. Think of how hard you worked, and draw strength. That will get you through. I have to give a very special shout-out to all the folks at Fleet Feet, Jenny, Kerry, Vinny, Austin, Alexa, Andrew, Erin, Taylor, Liz, Maggie, Mark, Christopher, Chelsie, my Mom, and Melanie. An extra special thanks to Jerry, my co-worker, with the southern accent, whose voice kept playing over and over and over in my head.
Be prepared. You’re gonna see a lot of poop, and a lot of public urination. I only tell you this so you’re not a total weirdo and staring when you see a guy in an Adidas track suit about face, step only a foot away from you, and whip his stuff out. Avert your eyes, and keep it moving.
Register! You’re not gonna understand it until you register. Do it, and you will be amazed at what your body is capable of doing.
The final score. Already planning on what I can do a little better next time 🙂
Overactive Blogger 