I actually got a good nights rest despite 3 sick kids. My husband was on kid duty and he did a great job! I woke up about 4:45am and took a quick shower. Don't ask me why I shower before sweating like a pig running, but I love that feeling of being refreshed.
I ate a banana and gathered my things and headed out the door around 5:40am. I arrived around 7am and gathered my packet and got ready. It was cold, so I stayed in my car until it was time to start heading to the start line.
I was nervous, but I was more excited than anything. I talked to lots of people that I know from a popular running group. It was awesome knowing I would be running the same race with them!
I started off slow. I kept around a 9:15-9:20 pace. I felt great. I didn't feel like I was running too fast. We had a few hills, but they weren't too bad. I still felt great.
Around mile 3 I started getting a side cramp. I breathed through it and it went away 5 minutes later. That was a relief! At mile 10, I started getting a stomach cramp, but it was both sides. It took me by surprise and when I tried to run, I couldn't. It worsened the pain. So, I walked and tried to breathe through the pain and run.
Dave, caught up to me and noticed I was struggling. He offered help, but I didn't know what was going on or why it was happening. He offered some much needed insight that made me fight for the next few miles.
I struggled for the next 5 miles, at which the pain was at the all time worst. I could barely break a trot before I had to stop and walk.
I didn't understand! I was well hydrated! I had made sure all week to keep myself well hydrated so I would be ready to go on race day. I had been eating my chews when I usually do, but nothing was helping. This was when the tears came. I had 11 miles to go and I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to finish.
This was the point where I got so mad. I had literally turned beast mode on the past 18 weeks running, doing strength and circuit training to help build my endurance. It's not like I woke up that morning and decided to go run a marathon. I fought and trained early mornings or late evenings. I owned those 449 miles I ran to train for this. I felt like this was so unfair! And I will not lie, I really wanted to quit at this point. I honestly wanted to flag down the cars that were following along the race to take me back.
A guy I know caught up to me, which didn't surprise me. It was his training run so he wasn't doing this marathon at race pace. He was surprised to see me. And I told him trying to force back my tears that I didn't understand what was going on. He stayed with me and it helped, but I didn't want to ruin his race, even though it was a training run for me. I told him to go ahead and I'd eventually finish.
I saw my first goal of 4 hours slip away. I saw my 4hrs 15min goal slip away. And then I saw my 4hr30min slip away and I cried. I felt defeated. I cursed at my body. I cursed at everything.
Around mile 18 as I got out of the porta potty, I continued my walk. I was drinking water like nobodys business, trying to keep as hydrated as possible.
A woman I saw that was at the aid station caught up to me and she said, "you're struggling, tell me what's going on." I explained my stomach hurt and I didn't know why. And that's when I started crying. And I'm even crying now because that pain of defeat is so fresh to me.
She gave me salt pills, and said, they won't hurt you, take 2 now, and then take 2 at mile 20 and then another one at mile 22. I won't lie, hearing those miles made me weak inside and made me feel like I would never get to there.
For the two miles I trotted and walked (walked more than trotted) and that's when the back pain started. I don't even know why. But it did. Somehow I got to mile 20 and my stomach felt better. I was able to jog a little more than I was before.
This was how the next few miles went. I jogged as long as I could until my stomach hurt and then I walked. Then when the back pain got to unbearable, I would jog again. And that's how I survived.
With about a mile and half left, I saw a van coming toward me. I realized as it got closer that it was my husband and the kids. He asked what was wrong and blubbering through tears I told him I didn't know why but my stomach was hurting. I cried and told him I was just trying to finish. It was good seeing my children and that made me cry even more.
Somehow, I clawed my way to the finish line.
5 hrs 23 min that is my number. I wasn't really tired, despite back pain, because I basically walked about half of the marathon. I even struggle to say that I've done a marathon because I honestly don't feel like I actually did a marathon. I am so mad that this, what was supposed to be the climax of all my hard training, was a big fat failure. I bombed it.
But something I didn't do was give up. I honestly didn't think I was going to be able to finish, but I did.
and that is my sad little story. Excuse me while I go mourn under a rock and wish that yesterday was a nightmare and I could have a do-over.
