People would ask me "So what's new in your life?" and instead of regaling them with my latest juicy dating tid bit, I would have to say "dude I seriously have been going to work and running. That's it."
Well it happened guys, I did it. And now I'm gonna tell you about it.
Real talk: training was the best & worst. It got to a point where my schedule would say "run 18 miles" and I was all "but I don't want to run 18 miles". Everyone also told me that running lower distances would become really easy, which they did not. 3-13 miles was still hard, I just happened to be able to do it faster. Mentally, I did get to a point where I would see "10 miles" and not blink an eye, but that 10 miles still made me sweat and my legs/feet hurt and I would have to take an occasional walking break. I didn't feel like I was necessarily getting better at running, only that I was able to suffer longer and deal with it. I was also stressed because I fell behind on my training. Between moving to Salt Lake and life my longest run was only 20 miles. I tried for 23 before I went to Austin for ACL (which was amazing & all my dreams came true) but due to a bad GU combination (pineapple flavor sounds good but isn't) I had to cut it short at 16, which was disheartening.
That being said, there is a tremendous amount of peace and perspective that comes from running long distances. If you've got problems (I feel bad for you son) that you don't feel are mentally resolved/worked through after 20 miles, then they're just not going to be resolved. And that's okay. It also really boosted my confidence- I felt strong and pretty and smart. I could go run a half marathon anytime I wanted and not be sore the next day. My mind was a lot clearer and sharper. Plus, being honest, I felt like I looked pretty good naked. YAY.
The week before the race I had a serious case of taper madness, not to mention contracted a vicious cold/cough. Both of these things are apparently normal, but it still didn't change the fact that I had crazy amounts of excess energy that was channeled into me over thinking/questioning every aspect of my life while being mega stoned on sudafed. My Mom was wonderful though and told me everything would be ok and also to harden the eff up, which was just the advice I needed. My Mom rocks.
I was nervous though. I didn't sleep too well the Thursday and Friday before the race. On a whim I checked Facebook Saturday morning while I was getting ready and there were streams of comments encouraging me, not to mention multiple people texted me and told me how awesome I was and how they were thinking about me. I felt like a million bucks, and it put me in a really great place mentally before the race. So, shout out to everyone who texted/wrote on my FB wall, it meant a lot :)
"Hey Emily, I'm loving this post so far but you haven't actually gotten to the part where you run the marathon..." Alright, alright. SO:
I arrived at the buses at 6:30am. "Full?" a bouncer status man in front of the doors asked, and I nodded. The doors opened and I got on the bus, found a seat, and immediately put my headphones in and didn't talk to anyone. My stomach was curling uncomfortably. After a 20ish minute drive, I got off the bus and the bus left. That's when it hit me that the only way I was getting back to my car was that I had to run a marathon. THIS WAS HAPPENING. I thought I was going to barf.
Twenty minutes later we all lined up- it was a small group, maybe 200 people. I looked at the pacers' cards and there were only three, 3:30, 4:00, and 4:15. I chuckled to myself, no way in hell I would be sticking with them. I am the epitome of "slow and steady finishes the damn race". Once the whistle blew, it was me and maybe 4 other people at various intervals on the course. For the most part, I was by myself...which was exactly how I wanted it.
I plugged myself into my ipod and straight up suffered for the first 6 miles. It was hilly. At mile 5 I reached what felt like this GOLIATH hill. The old & wise veteran marathoner next me gave me some words of encouragement: "Don't worry about this, you'll have plenty of time to make it up on the downhill, your legs will be fine". It was the right thing to say, and I chilled the eff out.
At mile 6 I popped my first salt/electrolyte/caffeine tablet thing and had a little snack (pink lemonade Stinger chews if you were wondering). The caffeine hit me around mile 7 and I felt goooood. I was breezing through this beautiful downhill with a fantastic view while "We're In This Together" crescendoed. Everything was in sync, it was effortless, there was a light breeze, the song was perfect, and I was locked in.
The high stuck with me all the way until mile 22... but not before my right pinky toe exploded (almost literally but not quite). Around mile 11 or 12 I felt this unmistakable release of pressure on the side of my foot, followed by an excruciating tearing sensation. It felt like my whole pinky had split in half and it REALLY HURT. My my toe felt like a popped lobster. I kept running though, because what else was I going to do?
I breezed through the halfway point. Checking my ipod while I had a snack, I saw that I had run 13.1 miles a full hour faster than the last time I ran a half. BOOYAH. At mile 14 or 15 I started feeling my legs. They weren't mad at me, they were just saying "hi, we're here. Attached to your body. And you're using us like, a lot. But that's cool just wanted to let you know we're here".
Aside from fatigue slowly creeping in, nothing super noteworthy happened from 15-22. The only thing I can think of is that at mile 18 I suddenly had to use the bathroom. As in I needed to use the bathroom right then. Not two minutes later, there was a port-a-potty. I thought I was going to be in there for a little bit, which happens. On the contrary- I went in, did my thing, and came out feeling lighter than air. Total port-a-potty experience was under two minutes. Awesooome.
By mile 20 I was feeling a little rough. My legs had this kinda heavy lead feeling to them, and were generally whining "we're tiiiiirreeedd". Shut up, legs. I had another snack and sucked the juice out of a chunk of orange, which tasted like ambrosia.
MILE TWENTY-TWO. Mile 22 was a stone cold b*tch. I hit what is known as "the wall". And I hit it hard. I was exhausted, my brain was a pile of cold oatmeal. Not even the yummy maple & brown sugar flavor- like the gross cinnamon & spice kind. It took several seconds for me to register anything that was going on around me. A car would pass me, and then 10 seconds later I would think "that was the ugliest car. I hate it". My whole body felt gloopy and heavy and everything hurt and I loathed everything. The only upside to this was that it didn't matter whether I walked or ran- it hurt no matter what, so I just ran. I put one leg in front of the other. The shuffle was so real. I would walk through the water stations and then have to psych myself out to start running again, because those initial 2ish steps were more painful than once I started moving.
In inspirational athletic movies, none of which currently come to mind (I'm super into sports (I'm not)), there's always this moment where the athlete starts bouncing around and maybe smacks their cheeks and yells incoherently. I never understood that- until now. Every time I would start running again I would shake out my shoulders and yell...because it just felt good. Idk. I looked crazy, and I knew it, but no effs were given. I was completely brain dead.
At mile 25 it dawned on me that I was going to finish. I was going to make it. I thought about picking up speed and sprinting across the finish line, but when I tried to go faster my right leg nearly gave out so I was all "ok nevermind then". I did lift my head up though, and tried to smooth the marathon grimace. And then I crossed the finish line, and I got my medal.
I had done it. I had run a marathon.
It really hurt. There were definitely moments that sucked. Overall though- it was awesome and I loved it. I couldn't have asked for a better marathon experience. It's so much work and the time you have to invest to train is ridiculous but also you turn into a complete effing badass and you can eat all the carbs you want and lose weight at the same time. YAS. I didn't set out on my marathon adventure to lose weight, I just wanted to force myself out of the funk I was in. I did passively wonder what would happen to my body as I trained, though. The first day of training I was 140lbs, measuring 35-31-40in. Currently, I'm 128lbs, measuring 34-28-36.5. Guys...I eat so much pizza. But I feel pretty comfortable in my own skin right now, which is so so nice.
Ps....remember my toe? Well I had forgotten about it because, if you remember, everything hurt so it just kinda got lost in the pain. I took off my socks when I got home...(Warning: Graphic images coming your way!)
I KNOW, RIGHT. DAYYUUMM.
So, in conclusion: running 26.2 miles was awesome. Do I want to do it again? Ask me in a couple weeks.
Stay tuned my fabulous blog readers! There are more adventures to come :)
