I DID IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I ran my first 1/2 marathon.  Race day……  

Pre-race goes like this:

Wake up at 4:40am. Stuff a banana and a piece of toast with peanut butter in my face. Put on my gear. Put on my shoes. Make Kyle take a picture of me even though my eyes aren’t open yet. Drive to Qwest Field. Find a miraculously free parking spot under the viaduct. Walk 1/2 a mile to the shuttle. Wait an hour to get on a bus. Watch mass chaos ensue as the giant line to the bus turns into a blob. Get pulled onto the bus by Kyle while others tried to cram in the door. Ride the bus to Tukwila. Walk to the giant bank of porta-potties. Wait in line for 20 minutes to pee. Walk another 1/2 mile to corral 28. Run into Terry and Lilli at corral 23.  Hear the national anthem. Hear the start of the race at 7am. Wait in corral 28 next to the annoying lady who talks way too loud until 8. 

The Start:

8am…Finally our corral  makes it to the front of the pack.  I can feel a little buzz of excitement coming over our corral.  We can see the guy we’ve been listening to over the speakers for the last hour.  (He was actually kind of funny…”Marathoners, just think, at mile 14 all those half marathoners will already be eating your food.”)  We can see the starting line.  We can see 13.1 miles ahead of us.  He checks his watch, checks with his timer girl, and gives us the send off “Are you ready, corral 28?!?! (WOOOOO! Cheering and general craziness.) On your marks, get set, *hooooonk*” (that’s one of those horn thingies going off).  The people way in front off us start running and we wait a few more minutes before there’s space in front of us to move our feet.  Then we’re off.  We walk until we actually touch the starting line.  I start my watch, and we’re doing it.  We’re running our first half marathon. 

Miles 1-9:

I feel really good. Strong, confident, no soreness in my hip, entertained by the crowd around me, comfortable in the outfit I’ve chosen, excited to see the bands playing at every mile.  We know the first band, Massy Ferguson, and it’s fun to hear them play…even if only for a few seconds as we run by.  There are lots of long hills.  They aren’t steep but they seem to go on forever.  I laugh at the porta-potty line at mile marker 1.  Already?  Mile 2 takes us over i-5. Cars honk at us and make us feel cool.  I drink some Cytomax at mile 3 and am weirded out by how sticky my feet are from running by the Cytomax table.  I stick to water the rest of the way.  Miraculously, I have mastered drinking while running and don’t spill all over myself, not even once!  The bands are interesting, but I don’t spend enough time next to them to really enjoy them.  The cheerleaders are kind of annoying, “Keep it up. Keep it up. Just run up that road.” Uhh, what do you think I’m doing?  A guy in his pajamas standing in his driveway makes me laugh “Get out of here! Get out of my driveway! I’m trying to go to the mall!”  The porta-potty lines are getting longer at each mile marker and we decide we’d better go.  We make a very quick pit stop at mile 5.  I feel great until mile 6…I feel the familiar twinge in my hip and am immediately disappointed.  I try not to let it get to me and the miles creep by.  I see a bald eagle. I see a lady, probably in her late 60s, talking on her cell phone while she runs. I can’t keep up with her.  I watch a couple in front of us. She obviously is in better shape than him. She keeps asking if he is okay. He keeps pretending he is.  I see Kyle a half step ahead of me.  He feels great.  I feel a little annoyed with my hip and that I’m half a step behind him.  We eat some magic beans. We get water at just about every water station. I grab two cups. I drink one, and pour the other on my hands (which for some reason are a bajillion degrees).  I push through the hip pain and am able to basically ignore it.  I am surprised when Kyle tells me mile 9 is right around the corner.  I don’t feel like we’ve gone that far.  Nine miles is the furthest we made it in training, and that’s the day I first really felt the pain in my hip.  I am excited that every step after 9 miles is a step further than I’ve ever run before. 

Miles 9-13:

The first steps of mile 9 piss me off.  We go straight up a VERY steep hill, which is followed by a very long, very slight incline.  I think this 1/2 marathon thing is over-rated. Who’s idea was this anyway? Oh yeah, it was mine.  I think about my mantras. I have several.  “Only 45 more minutes. I can do anything for 45 minutes.”  “The training was the hard part. This is my victory lap.”  “Pain is temporary, pride is forever.” I think “This is my victory lap. This is my victory lap. This is my victory lap. It doesn’t hurt that bad. Push through it. You’re running a half marathon. Last year you couldn’t run a 1/2 mile. Look at that fat (sorry) couple in front of you. If they can do it, you can.”  Etc. Etc. Etc. I concentrate on what feels strong.  My heart and lungs are doing what they should.  I am not purple like I expected to be.  My muscles in my legs are working. I visualize my hip joint doing what it’s supposed to do…but it’s not doing what it’s supposed to do and my mental stamina is giving out.  I can only “Fake it til I make it” (another mantra) for so long.  I slow down a lot.  My hip is hurting. My feet are on fire.  Kyle is several steps ahead of me, but we promised to do this together, so I don’t tell him to go ahead without me…even though I want to.  I don’t consider quitting. I do want to walk.  We run through the I-90 tunnel where a roar of cheering starts a half a mile ahead and rolls over you like thunder inside your body. It’s a surreal experience. It’s dark in there and a band is playing. It’s stuffy and kind of hot, but it’s different. The tunnel is huge. Much bigger than it seems in a car.  I feel like part of something bigger than myself.  Somewhere in the tunnel we hit mile 10.  10 miles has been a long time goal for both of us.  10 miles is a long freaking way to run.  Miles 10 and 11 are my death miles…and by that I mean I want to die…I have to take some walk breaks to lengthen my hip joint and give it some (minimal) relief.  Kyle is frustrated, but doesn’t say as much.  I really really really want to run the whole thing, so these walk breaks are pretty disappointing.  Especially because everything is working except for my hip. Especially because we are only a 5k away from the finish line. Especially because my mind and the rest of my body are ready to go.  I kind of want to cry a little bit. Dear Hip, screw you.  We start running again. At mile 11.5 or so we see Anna, Ben and Scott standing on the corner cheering.  I think there are other people with them, but my eyes aren’t quite focusing at this point from the pain. Anna is screaming something unintelligible with a big goofy grin on her face.  Ben is taking pictures.  We get closer and Anna runs out on to the course with us and runs next to us for a few minutes.  She takes a few silly pictures which force me to smile when I do NOT feel like smiling.  It is good for me.  I need to smile. I need to remember this was my idea. I need to remember my mantras…I need to remember I can do anything for 20 more minutes! Only 20 more minutes!  And if I can pick up the pace a little bit it won’t even be that long.  We tell Anna that we’ll meet them by the beer garden at the finish line and we’re off.  I have to walk up and down the bigger hills.  They hurt my hip the most.  The 12 miles sign seems light  years away from the 11 mile one, but past that we’re heading towards Highway 99.  Once we’re on the viaduct, we are running again.  Our car is parked below us.  We’re ALMOST THERE!  We can hear the cheering of the crowd near the finish line.  I pick up my pace a tiny bit. At least I think I do. Maybe I just pick up my motivation a little bit.  I can’t remember any of my mantras. I just keep saying in my head “I’m running a 1/2 marathon. I’m running a 1/2 marathon……”

The Finish:

We can see the finish line, but it sure is far away.  The crowds line both sides of the course for about 1/2 mile leading up to it.  I feel a little claustrophobic and want everyone to shut up and let me run.  But they cheer anyway. Go figure.  Kyle is still 2 steps ahead of me, but he slows down a bit and I speed up a bit just as we’re getting to the end.  I reach for his hand, and as planned, we cross the finish line holding hands.  I click the stop button on my watch.  2:40:30…10 minutes and 30 seconds slower than I wanted to be…But, I’m done.  I am so proud of myself.  Even though it didn’t go as I planned, I still ran a 1/2 marathon.  We split a bagel, and I eat the best orange I’ve ever eaten and let the juice run down my arm.  I drink two bottles of water. Kyle practically has to carry me away from the giant pallet of bags of ice they’re using to keep the bottles of water cool.  My hip desperately wants to sit on it.  Ice please.  We find Anita who also just finished her first 1/2 marathon.  We hug and take pictures.  We find Anna and Ben and Scott. We hug too.  I’m too sweaty to be hugging people who aren’t sweaty too. I’m too tired to care.  We go to the beer garden and find Terry and Lilli.  We get our free beer.  I can’t drink mine. I eat Lilli’s granola bar instead.  Thanks Lilli!  Kyle drinks my beer. We walk to the car…very, very slowly.  That half mile felt shorter this morning.  We drive straight to Olive Garden and eat like we’ve never eaten in our lives.  We go home and promptly fall asleep on the floor.  We deserve it.  We just ran our first 1/2 marathon! 

After thoughts:

Immediately after the race (and in miles 10-12.5) I thought “I will never do this again, ever. This is the worst idea I’ve ever had.”  Now thinking back, I’d like to do it again when my hip is healthy.  I’d like to see if I can do better.  I don’t have ambitions to run a full one yet.  I don’t feel like I’ve done a half as successfully as I’d like yet.  I need to conquer this distance before moving on.  My hip still hurts 3 days later, so it may be a bit before I conquer anything.  Eventually though, I would like to be able to say I’ve run a full marathon.  I heard a guy talking at the Expo the day before the race with his friends.  His friend said, “Are you doing the race?” He said, “No way. I get sweaty just DRIVING 13.1 miles.”  I smile because it’s funny. I also smile because that was me just over a year ago.  I have found a side of myself I never knew was there.  I am a strong and confident woman, and I just ran a 1/2 marathon.