Step One: Quasimodo Robot

Yesterday I completed the Harrisburg Marathon. Two weeks ago I attempted 16miles to make sure I could at least make it that far. That day I came home to find my roommate in the shower so I snuggled my puppy on the floor... and immediately passed out. Later in the day I needed yet another nap. When I thought about my prospects of finishing a marathon with such little preparation... well, lets just say that optimistically I thought I could run 20 and walk the rest if necessary. Pessimistically, I thought that I was definitely in over my head. I've gained around 15lbs this year and lost most of the conditioning I'd put in last year and during the late winter months. Some days 8miles feels like work. I never thought I'd hit (what often feels like) running rock bottom.

I spent every day last week stressed to the max. I nervously downed sodas, then "erased" them with several waters trying to keep myself hydrated. I thought of every possible strategy to make it a little further than my original projection. I told myself that no matter what, I'd be happy to finish. Internally, I was really upset that my first marathon wouldn't be a good debut. Struggling to gut out 26.2miles instead of speeding through was a far cry from the glory I was looking for. That being said, I made the commitment to run it and it was my fault alone that I wasn't prepared. (To really understand what I put myself through, I'll update my dailymile.com account to reflect every run between August and October. Get ready to feel my marathon day pain.) I also spent some time reading first time marathon faux pas in preparation of last Sunday's race. This was followed by more stress. I read a "bathroom disaster" version of things to and not to do. I decided that this list was one to dog ear.

I woke up at 4:30am on race day. I picked up the bag I packed the night before and did a double check. Watch (check), calf sleeves (check), compression socks for after (check), fuel belt loaded (check), running shoes (check), iPod (check... wait did I charge that?!? double checked). I got dressed, brushed my teeth, washed my face and braided my hair. I was as ready as I could get. I grabbed a Pepsi, Gatorade Prime, three Rice Krispie treats, and two bottles of water. Off I went. I stopped at my wingman's place to pick him up. He's a seasoned vet and knew what the aftermath of Hurricane Heather could produce. I'm glad he put the forethought into the after because the before was all consuming for me. On the drive to Harrisburg, I nervously drank half of my Pepsi, ate the Rice Krispie treats, and drank the full bottle of water. One of the noobie mistakes I read about was drinking too much water before the race. We arrived almost two hours before the race. I had plenty of time. I check in, pin my bib, and walk back to my car to change out of my Uggs and into my running shoes. Things are starting to get real. My stress is climbing... I put in the Jackie Evancho cd. My wingman sits patiently through the 11-ish year old classically trained singer serenading us. Dude deserves a medal.... but I'm not giving him mine.

With 20 minutes or so until race time, we head to the starting line. My gadgets are in place, I'm stretching out, I listen to the pacer talking... I'm staying calm. I was waiting for the race director to start talking, welcoming us and maybe saying a prayer... instead a bull horn goes off. Crap, the race has started and I'm still wearing my hoodie. I tossed it at my wingman and took off with dirty talk Dave, my pacer. I wasn't sure what I could run having not actually put in the training. I decided to give the 4:10 pacer a shot. He told inappropriate joke after joke. It was a great way to start a race. He kept me slow and from going out too fast. (My body thinks its still fast and doesn't realize we have work to do.)

At mile six a guy sprinted to where he thought he was being hidden and dropped trou to go number 2. So glad I read the NOT-TO-DO list. Thank God. I'd hate to be that guy...

By mile 12 however, I was having trouble holding myself in. I was like a horse chomping on the bit begging for free reign. I pulled slightly ahead on a hill and just went with it. I knew to keep myself contained. I didn't want dirty Dave to have to spatula me off the pavement a mile up the road. I knew my parents and brother Nick would be around mile 15-16. I kept that in mind. The moment I saw my dad waiting for me on the edge of HACC's campus, I started getting a little emotional... unfortunately that usually means crying and hyperventilating... so after mentally yelling "PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER WOMAN!" I said hi to my dad, told him I loved him and kept running. Mom and Nick were up next cheering me on and taking photos. It meant a lot for them to be there for me. I saw them a few more times over the course of that two mile stretch.

At mile 18, I began traversing gravel terrain on my way to Wildwood park. At this part it occurred to me that I've never made it this far in my life. Uncharted territory. I've heard many disaster tales of how much your body starts to hate you. I did a body check... I seemed okay. Keep running. I turned my first corner in the park and met one of the steep short hills... and saw tons of people who had started walking. I hate hills... but after running 18 miles, I wasn't going to let a little thing like that slow me down. So I did what any rational person would do... I charged. After cresting the hill and doing my mental endzone dance, I look ahead to the next segment of paved trail... Ohh crap... Here comes another short steep hill. Ohh hell no. If the first one didn't get me, the next one wasn't either. (What I failed to mention, was that from mile 17-20 I listened to Christina Aguilera "Fighter" on repeat... manual repeat because the stupid Nano and I don't understand each other.) Between miles 18-21 I passed many people walking up the hills... I ran every single one and didn't slow down and fade out. Booyah.

I got worried that my wingman would make it to the water stop around mile 22 to see what my "breakdown" looks like. He was eager to bask in my misery while I wallowed in pain. I wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. It also occurred to me that I had less than a 10k to go. I could finish that. It was steadily approaching Noon. People were slowing down and run/walking everywhere. It made me feel super fast as I blew by them (at my steady pace). The sun was starting to beat down overhead and towards mile 24 I began to feel it. My parents and brother drove by and I hear whoops coming from the car. I laugh and push on. By mile 25 I see the bridge. The key to my salvation is at the end of that bridge. I looked upon it from the river path like it was the gate to Heaven. Once I climbed the ramp up to begin my trek (kick??) across, I don't even notice my family cheering me on. I've got tunnel vision and I'm running towards the light. I did a double check and made sure I wouldn't have a finisher pic with a kid running beside me or a jogging stroller... Eww.. guy with hot pink shirt... need to pass him. I high-fived my wingman and two little boys in the last .2mi. I felt like a champion. Not because I finished fast, but because I kept my promises and finished. 4:00:44.45 with six weeks of "training" and 1x16mi run.

This morning I woke up and stretched out... ooohhh... things feel weird. Not terrible but weird. Granted, I was laying down and no weight was on my feet. I could make it through the day. No problem. I'd show my wingman that I'm one tough cookie. Then I put my feet on the floor and tried to stand up... by attempt three I was on my feet. I pulled my socks off in the middle of the night and left them on the floor beside my nightstand. I reached to pick them up and couldn't make it. I considered leaving them but knew it would drive me crazy later. My heels weren't bending so I lowered myself <cough, cough> daintily to the floor. I scooped up the socks and gracefully <cringes> rocked myself back to a some-what standing position. I consider a shower and threw that idea out the door. Getting in the tub was not happening. (I showered 12 hrs before, stop judging me). The walk into work could only be described as a Quasimodo-Robot. I was hobbling on unsteady knees. I knew that I'd be heckled but I didn't care. I'd earned my Quasimodo-Robot walk.

I've laid out my training plan for my next marathon. When I approach the starting line in DC, I'll have put the work in. It'll be my speedy run that I was hoping for. With any luck I'll BQ and feel like a mixture of Rocky and Shalane Flanagan. If I work the next one as hard as I worked this one and put the time in training, I'll welcome the Quasimodo-Robot. It'll be well earned. Bring it DC.