When we decided to run the marathon together, Running Partner and I signed up with the 4:30 pace group. We figured that was very conservative for us because the minute per mile pace was a good thirty seconds slower than our usual long run pace. We got to the race site very early, used the bathrooms, checked our bags, ogled a few hotties, I mean checked out the competition, and made our way to the starting line with minutes to spare. Once the gun went off--hmmm, I assume there was a gun, I didn't hear it though--we were pumped with adrenaline. The first four miles or so of the course are uphill and we had no problem staying with our pace group. When the course transitioned to downhill, we admittedly picked up our pace probably a little too much. We never caught up to the 4:15 group though so I figured we’d be okay. I did ask Running Partner if we could slow down a couple of times but she really had to go to the bathroom and was hoping to bank some time so a pit stop wouldn’t affect our finish. In retrospect, that’s completely laughable.
We saw my parents at mile seven and I got a huge boost from that. I was still feeling great physically but had been starting to get kind of bored. (Crazy, I know.) I noticed Running Partner wasn’t talking very much and hadn’t been responsive to my conversation attempts but I figured that was because she still hadn’t found a bathroom (without a huge line in front of it) yet. We saw my parents again at mile 12—after a much-needed Port-a-Potty stop for RP—and again I got another emotional boost. My dad was holding a huge sign and screaming “Yes! You are AWESOME! You are AWESOME!” over and over again and my mom was screaming and taking pictures like she was part of the paparazzi. Running Partner finally spoke and said “Your parents are so great! Can they be mine for today too?” Then, another runner nearby said “I don’t even know you or your family but I want your parents to adopt me today.”
We crossed the half-way point at 2:13, well on our way to meeting our goal and still feeling really good. At least, I thought we were. Running Partner still hadn’t said much. I finally said “This is so boring when we’re not talking. Why aren’t we talking?” That’s when I saw the tears streaming down from behind her sunglasses. Apparently she had tweaked something in her hip around mile six and it had been getting progressively worse. Unfortunately we still had the toughest part of the course in front of us. I asked her if she wanted to stop, she said no. I asked if she wanted to walk, she said no. We trudged on to mile seventeen where she finally asked if we could walk. This was coming from the girl who never walked a single inch in any of our long runs so I knew it must be really bad for her to ask if we could walk during the actual marathon. She was crying pretty hard at that point. We were due to see my brother-in-law at mile twenty two and as we got closer I kept asking her if she wanted to stop with him and have him get a medic. Again, she said no.
When we did finally see BIL, I was so excited I started screaming and blowing kisses. Then I noticed he was pointing off to the side. My father-in-law had brought my three kids down as a surprise!!! It was the absolute highlight of my run! I stopped and hugged each one of them and posed for a picture. I was beaming! When I turned around to rejoin the race I saw Running Partner about twenty yards ahead. I sprinted to catch up with her and she was not doing well. The rest of the race is a blur of walking breaks and overwhelming concern for her well being.
I have to admit I reached my own personal low point at mile twenty-four when I threw up after taking a sip a Gatorade. The funny thing though is that I almost forgot to include that in the race report. What other sport pushes you to the point of puking and it doesn’t even seem worth mentioning?
Running Partner hung in until mile 25.8 when she declared she had to stop and wouldn’t be able to make it across the finish--the finish that we could literally see up ahead. This time I turned into the hard ass and told her dropping out was no longer an option. If she was going to quit, she should have done it long ago. I forced her to keep moving and we ran across the finish line holding hands at 4:48. (Insert sappy music and graceful tears here.)
She has thanked me several times for staying with her, which is just ridiculous. We’re running partners. We ran every long run together and committed to running the marathon together. I was not going to leave her. I truly did not care at all what time I finished. If I had to take an honesty pill, I’d probably admit that I had been hoping to finish in less than five hours. And I did! I’ve been riding a runner’s high since I crossed that finish line. It’s now forty-eight hours later and people keep telling me I’m beaming. It was definitely one of the top five experiences of my life. In fact, I’m secretly trying to figure out when I can run another one without my family turning against me.
As for Running Partner, she seems to be healing well. She couldn’t walk yesterday (the day after the race) but today she managed to hobble enough to go get a pedicure. That’s my girl!
Here's a photo taken soon after the finish. I'd like to say that's a glow of happiness and accomplishment rather than sweat. Better photos to come, no doubt. And, yeah, notice the slouched posture and crossed legs? It was an attempt to minimize the crippling hamstring and lower back cramps that seized me as soon as I stopped running.
Marathon Miles: 26.2
Total Miles: 502.2
