Marathon #8 recap

Well...that's an underwhelming title for an overwhelming day. Everything else my tired brain came up with was either too cheesy or just plain stupid. So, I'll just call this post what it is:  simply a recap of my 8th marathon.

I've completed 8 marathons. I have to say...I like the sounds of that.  Eight marathons. First, Chicago in October of 2009.  Second, Minneapolis in June of 2010. Third, Quad Cities in September of 2010. Fourth, Quad Cities in September of 2011 (where I earned my PR of 3:49.46). Fifth, Virginia Beach in March of 2012 (my slowest...and most dramatic. I was incredibly sick and actually had passed out on the flight out to VA twice, resulting in an ER visit. I still managed to finish:  in 4:52.01). Sixth, Marine Corps in DC on my 30th birthday in October of 2012.  Seventh, Los Angeles in December of 2012 (on the day after Christmas!). 

And....eighth....today. 

Here I am at the finish...rather proud, I must say. 

....let's back up a bit, though. It was a long road to the finish this morning, both physically and mentally. 

I toyed with the idea of running one of the events in the inaugural Run River City event in Peoria since last fall when I heard it was scheduled. I was quite excited about a local marathon and was thrilled that Running Central, my favorite fabulous central IL running store, was sponsoring a team for the event to run to raise money and awareness for Easter Seals.  I felt strongly about supporting an exciting new event in my area...supporting Running Central...and of course, about supporting Easter Seals. Those who know me know that Easter Seals, an organization that provides pediatric outpatient rehabilitation services for children with disabilities, has been near and dear to my heart since 2007 when I moved to this area. So, for me, participation in the Run River City event would be a win-win-win. 

There were 5k, 25k, marathon and marathon relay options. I actually planned a number of weeks ago to run the relay. Long story short, my team fell apart. Next, I considered the idea of running the 25k (15.5 miles). I had never run a 25k race before...could be cool to add another race distance to my list. This week, however, I started thinking about just going for the full. Really...what's ~11 more miles?! ;-)

My coach, Laura, caught wind of my tentative plans and strongly encouraged me to NOT do the full. In fact, in my Training Peaks schedule she specifically wrote in a long run...of NO MORE THAN 13-16 miles for today. My left foot has given me some grief the past few months. Additionally, I hadn't run further than 13.1 miles since my marathon in December.  I really, really should listen to her.  Sometimes...I just get...stubborn.

Yesterday afternoon, I drove over to the Caterpillar welcome center in downtown Peoria. I walked up to the registration table and told the young man at the computer that I would like to register for the event. He asked me what distance...and I hesitated before responding "well I don't know. The full I guess."  He looked at me as if I was kinda crazy and said, "uh, it's YOUR decision!"  I'm sure he was thinking something along the lines of, "what kind of nut job walks up to a race registration not knowing what distance to register for?  Don't they consider training?!"  I repeated myself, more confidently this time, "yes. I know. I want to sign up for the full please!"

I secured my number and shirt, then checked out the Running Central tent where I scored a new pair of my favorite New Balance shoes (that I've used for about a year) for about half price on sale! Sa-weeet!!

After a dinner of GF pasta and lots of water, I hit the sack.  This morning, I climbed out of bed at the last possible minute (as is my typical style) and got ready for the race. I got to the race site around 6:40 for the 7am start (cutting it a bit close!!), scored a stellar parking spot along the road, visited a porta potty and made it to the start with time to spare. 

Number 70...ready to rock this thing!!

Wheelchair athletes lining up...many were wearing red "Team Believe" shirts for Easter Seals...pretty great. 

The following two photos I found on the Peoria Journal Star website:

(I'm in the left part of the pic above, with my head turned and a white visor on. In other news...I'm totally jealous of the abs on the chick in front of me!!)

AND THEY'RE OFF!!!

(I'm in the right side of the pic...white visor.  I love this picture!)

Things felt great...mile 1 was done and over before I even felt warmed up.  I completed mile 1 in 7:47.  Adrenaline ALLLLLWAYS gets me and I start off more quickly than I should.  Miles 2 and 3 were at a much more manageable (for me) pace of 8:15 and 8:16, respectively.  After that...I just wasn't feeling it.  I started to slow down.  It didn't take me long at all today to see that a 3:35 finish (my age group's Boston Qualifying (or BQ) time) just isn't in my capabilities...yet.  Miles 4 and 5 were slower yet...8:35 and 8:45.  I picked it up a bit for Mile 6...8:37...and Mile 7...8:26.  Mile 8 ventured into the 9-minute-mile territory with a 9:01 mile.  Miles 9-13 were all right around the 9 minute-mile pace.  Mile 14 slowed a bit to 9:15.  Miles 15-20 were all between 9-9:25. 

At mile 19 I started doubting myself and started wondering if maybe I was a complete idiot for running today...when I was explicitly advised not to.  Plus it was hot...and I was getting tired.  At each and every water stop (there were around 20, which was fabulous!!) I took two cups...one to dump over my head and one to drink.  Additionally, a few kind people were handing out cups of ice cubes in their yards!  These ice cubes felt like small pieces of heaven today.  Some went in my mouth...others went on my head...some were rubbed on my cheeks...and two went down the back of my shirt.  Ahhhhh!!!!

As I fought through mile 19-20, I told myself that when I got to mile 20 I would allow myself a short walking break.  I hadn't walked at all at that point and rationalized that a 20 mile non-stop running workout was, if nothing else, a great workout.  As soon as my watch beeped on that 20th mile, I stopped running and began to walk.  As anyone who has made it through elementary science knows...an object in motion tends to stay in motion and an object at rest tends to stay at rest unless it is acted upon by an outside force.  Likewise, an object walking or running at a slow pace sometimes requires an outside force to act upon it to get it moving again.

Around mile 21, my outside force came in the shape of a sweet "random stranger" (as we later called one another).  She ran up beside my right side and said something to me.  I had to take out my ear buds to hear her; she was offering up kind words of encouragement to spur me onward in my race.  I smiled at her and we started running together.

We exchanged some pleasantries, talked about the course...the heat...our aching bodies...and then she began to open up to me.  Turned out, she had just run in the Boston Marathon one month ago.  She shared that she was running today as a way to emotionally heal from that day.  I won't write about all the details of what she shared with me, because I don't feel it is my story to share.  One thing she did say to me that especially resonated within me, though, was "I have been dealing with survivors' guilt."  She went on to say that she didn't understand why it was that she was able to escape that day, bearing nothing more than the emotional scars, while others fared much worse.  As we fought through those final miles together, there were times she became caught up in her emotions and I had to wipe a few involuntary tears from my own cheeks. 

As we neared mile 23, we saw a fellow runner begin to stumble.  A few of us started shouting for help and two strong men ran up to the struggling runner and caught him before he could fall.  I will never forget looking in his eyes in that moment...they were rolling around in their sockets and his body seemed to be flailing uncontrollably.  What happened to me next is somewhat embarrassing to admit.  I started panicking...or hyperventilating...or something.  Honestly, I'm not really sure what was going on with my body.  A combination of the physical stress of the race and the heat and the emotional conversation I had been having with my new friend, on top of seeing the pain and struggle of a fellow runner...it all got to me.  I started breathing crazily and was horrified by the gasping sound coming out of my body.  I couldn't take deep breaths, which made me panic more, and I continued to gasp.  I felt my lungs inside my chest expanding as if they were going to push out of my ribs.  I couldn't stop tears from coming out of my eyes.  After what felt like an eternity...but was likely only a minute or two...I was able to talk myself down and get myself under control.

After being assured by others that the struggling runner would be taken care of, we continued on our way...together we pushed onward.  Our final miles were a run-walk combination.  A few times, my new friend needed to stop to throw up (by this point, the throwing up was dry heaves, as her poor stomach and body were completely empty).  Each time she urged me to leave her and go on...but I couldn't do it.  A few times, a selfish part of me was a bit tempted (just offering up complete honesty!) to continue on and just wait for her at the finish...but there was just NO way I could rationalize leaving her.  She had picked me up when I was about ready to give in between miles 20-21, the least I could do was to finish up the race with her.

As we neared the finish line, the reality of crossing a marathon finish line began setting in for her.  We talked about how today was completely different than April 15 and that what had happened there in Boston on that terrible day was not going to be happening today.  With about three tenths of a mile to go, I glanced down at my watch.  "4:07" shown back at me.  In a split second I realized that we would likely be crossing the finish line at 4:09.  4:09...when the explosion occurred at the finish line in Boston. 

We picked up our pace and ran toward the finish line stronger than we had run in the past 6 miles.  When the finish line came into view, it became clear that we would indeed be running under it within the 4:09 mark.  I didn't say anything to her as we finished, nor did I say anything after we finished.  However, I am sure she realized what was happening.

We crossed the finish line together at 04:09:30.  Two were absolutely stronger than one.

We exchanged some sweaty hugs after being presented with our medals.  We then parted ways.  I have a feeling, though, that our race together today won't be the last we see of each other.

Today was a day I will truly never forget.  It wasn't my fastest marathon...and it wasn't my slowest.  It was hard-fought, though, and a great day of training.  Most importantly, though, it taught me that there are things far more important than PRs and BQ times.  Kindness, compassion and companionship...to name a few.

Wrapping up with a few final tidbits from the day....

This vehicle cracked me up..."nuisance abatement vehicle"?!  It was parked on part of the course (I took the photo after I was done).

Here's a breakdown of my splits!  As you can see, I did the exact OPPOSITE of what one SHOULD do in a race...run "negative splits" (getting gradually faster). Instead...my pace dropped significantly throughout the race. But....I'm ok with that. And I truly mean it. Like I said, today's race showed me that there are things far more important than PRs and even BQ times...not that I'm giving up on my quest for those things!  That will just be for another day :-).

Each of my marathons is memorable, for one or more reasons. Chicago...my first. Quad Cities...my PR. Marine Corps...my 30th birthday (and hurricane Sandy!). Peoria...because it was a tangible lesson for me in what's really important in life. 

I'm truly grateful that I had the experiences that I did today. The soreness in my joints and muscles will (hopefully!) fade this week. My sun-burnt shoulders and arms will sting less. But, I really hope that I never forget the way crossing that finish line side by side with my new friend felt. The kindness of a stranger taught me about strength today in a way nothing has before.  To whom much is given, much will be required. I have this life, these legs that carry me (regardless of if they are as thin as I may like or as fast as I would desire!), and the heart that beats strongly within my chest. I know today more than ever that I have the responsibility to share my gifts and kindness with those I come into contact with.  Thank you to sweet J for an unforgettable run!

Looking forward to many more adventures,

Rachel Lynn