Life is a Marathon

A few of you might remember way back when I posted 25 things about me - one of the things I might like to do someday is write a book on personal parables. Well, the marathon (which post I realize is LONG overdue) inspired one of those personal parables. This one may be rather lengthy, because isn't life rather lengthy? Or, it really seems REALLLLLY long sometimes. Yes, I'm only 33 so I'm more than aware that I'm not far into life, but still... humor me here. So, onto the story of my race. I'll just tell you about the race, maybe draw a few references for you, and let you do the rest.

It all starts way back in July, right before I left for Guatemala, when I decided to run a marathon. Crazy, I know. Who really wants to run a marathon? Apparently I did. With everything going on, including 2 weeks in Guatemala/Belize, I only had 8 weeks to train. My longest training run was 20 miles. I thought if I could run 20, 26.2 would be tough but not insurmountable. Several weeks before the race I had a handful of friends who said they wanted to go. By that weekend, one was sick, one was out of town (spending the weekend with her husband of all things! :)), and the rest just kind of disappeared. In the end it was just me and Carrie. We were going to tough it out and camp the night before - at least that was the plan when the weather was still looking like it would be in the 50's-60's. To be honest, that was still the plan when I miraculously found a hotel room available in the next town over a few weeks before the race when all the hotels/cabins/condos/houses had been full for weeks/months. That was definitely a tender mercy because it wasn't close to the 60's or 50's that weekend. Instead, we got our first snow of the year. Carrie asked me, probably more than once, if I was sure I wanted to go run in the snow and cold. At this point I felt like if I backed out, I may not sign up for another one. What was a little cold weather when you're running 26 miles?

...apparently a lot...

Carrie and I drove up to Ashland, WI Friday night, picked up the race packet, and headed to Washburn to check into our sweet motel 8 room. We'd missed the fish boil and pasta feed by the time we got up to Ashland, so we thought we'd try our luck with something close to the motel. Little did we know we'd have the joy of the... Steak Pit ... complete with a gigantic plywood steak as part of the restaurant sign. What an experience. The food was sub par but we had a waitress (bless her heart) that acted like she was straight out of the Stepford Wives and they had a fountain that looked like it was one of those cheep touristy things that has the colored LED lights in the little plastic things. My descriptive skills at this point are astounding even me.


Race morning we bundled up and headed straight for the parking close to the starting line. As straight as we could drive as we were sliding across the highway on the ice. After an uneventful warm up, we finally started. Race start temp: 25 degrees, with ice and snow. I was bundled with 4 layers on top, 3 on the bottom, plus a hat, scarf, and gloves. It was really that cold. Only about 1,000 of us as we crossed the start line and headed the first mile uphill on a paved road, sliding on the ice, trying not to fall. Finally we traded the ice covered road for trail. The next 10 miles were like running on a beach. The trail was beat up and it sapped my energy like nothing else. By mile 5, when I saw Carrie the first time, I felt horrible. But, I couldn't stop then. I know my body usually feels pretty bad the first few miles.

So, I just kept going.... and going... and going... and going... and going... and going...

Mile 10 I felt better. My body cycled between feeling good and bad. I had shin splints, my knees hurt (which had never happened while running before), my ankles hurt, and I was frozen. But I kept going. I took a few gu shots along the way, supplemented by gatoraide and sweedish fish. Odd combination, but it kept me going. By about 1/2 way I felt like every other racer had passed me, but I just kept going. It didn't matter who finished before me, only that I crawled my way across the finish line. I had to do the psychological talk to myself, especially the last 6 miles. I can run 6 miles, so what's different about this? Well, I had just run 20 miles before that, not that I would remind myself that. That would have just been defeating.

Well, I shouldn't have to tell you that I finally crossed the finish line. It was cold, grueling, beautiful scenery, mentally exhausting, and did I mention really cold? And... I made my time goal! That was all I could think about the last 2 miles. I had to make my time goal. Keep the legs moving... can't walk... keep running.

I don't think I would have done so well (read well for me) without Carrie there. I was never sure where on the trail I'd see her so it was something for me to look for at every potential spectator point. And then what did we do? I showered, we climbed into the car and drove the 4.5 hours home (with a dinner stop at Tobie's).

I had relatively few race injuries - one blister on my toe, somehow I hurt my arch, and I think I pulled my hamstring. Nothing insurmountable.

Now the real question... will I ever run another marathon?