It's about time I updated this blog. I've been waiting for the perfect time and opportunity, but I don't even know what that looks like. Nothing's ever going to be perfect so why wait around? I read plenty of blogs updated on a regular basis so I need to get with the program!
Since I last posted, I ran the Detroit Marathon, #13 for me. It wasn't the best and wasn't the worst. I had a good attitude about it all, which I was pleased about -- I didn't have a mental meltdown when I knew I wasn't gonna be near my goal. I knew I wasn't anywhere near PR shape (it was beyond obvious for quite some time), but I had goals. And it was my first race in a Oiselle singlet, so I was pumped! There's something about wearing it and knowing there are many others across the country (hell, I think we also have a few overseas) wearing it, too. It's such a great community to be a part of and the singlet reminds me of this. Sisterhood in sport, indeed.
I almost forgot to mention the excitement at the start. As is often the case with marathons, I think many more port-o-potties were needed. My husband and I (he also ran) walked the almost-mile to the start from our hotel and promptly got in line. I think we had an hour to go before the race. We waited 30 minutes before we made it to the front. At this point, we were ready to get our stuff to the gear drop and then would make our way to the corrals (he was in B, I was in C...and they extended very far back due to the number of runners and races happening at once, including a half marathon and a marathon relay). There was just one problem: I knew I'd have to go again. We made our way to the gear check but I knew I had to get in line again. Derek wisely wanted to warm up, so we bid adieu and I headed off to the lines, and waited. And waited. It became so nerve wracking and I really, really tried hard to stay calm.
As it turned out, I was peeing as the horn went off to signal the start of the race. That's something I hope to never go through again! I ran like a crazy person through the crowds. I could hear them signaling the start of each corral as they advanced up to the start line. I think I hopped a fence at some point and jumped in with corral E, which was just about to cross the start line. My marathon warm up was a sprint, and I came to a sudden stop as I walked with the crowd, moving as one. Then, we were off!
The cool thing about this race was that fact that it started before sunrise, and we then got to watch the sun come up as we ran into Windsor, Canada. We hit a pretty substantial hill around mile 3 as we climbed up, up, up and over the bridge into Canada. I didn't have much of a plan for these early miles other than to keep the effort easy and hopefully 8:20s would feel ridiculously slow and I would be able to gradually pick it up throughout. Things were okay, but not great. I kind of curse my use of a Garmin...I've only run one other marathon with one, and if you're not mentally strong, they can really mess with you. My pace was all over the place - too fast, too slow, but then the too fast felt too hard and I secretly hoped it wouldn't, and...well, you get the picture. I just tried to calm down and enjoy things.
Around mile seven, you drop into a mile-long underground tunnel. The temp went from in the low 40s to suddenly much warmer when we dropped underground -- I was dripping. Then, we climbed back out into cool temps again and a really strong breeze and BOOM! I felt like all the energy washed out of me. Get it together, get it together, I thought. Then, a bathroom break a couple miles later. I realized I was in a daze and dilly-dallying. Get it together, I thought! It was quite bizarre. I didn't have the urgency or the panic I often do. I just wasn't on my game but felt oddly "whatever" about it.
Somewhere not too long after I made the official decision to not fight things. I have had some miserable marathons where I fought beyond the point of being able to salvage a decent race. And you know what? Sometimes you have to strike that balance between pushing yourself and prematurely killing yourself, or digging your own grave for later in the race. I scaled back my pace to an effort that seemed sustainable for the day--I just wasn't feeling it. Disappointing, yes, but I made peace with it quickly. I started walking through water stops--I was ridiculously thirsty!--just to make sure I could stay even and finish all right. My goals shifted...a sub-3:35 finish became just keep it under 4 hours. I'd managed to run all my marathons under that until this point, so this seemed like a good goal given how flat and crappy I felt.
The good news is, when many around me seemed to be hitting the wall after mile 20, I managed to feel the same I'd felt 10 miles before: not great, but what had felt awful at mile 10, seemed decently appropriate for mile 20, if that makes sense. I'd managed to maintain an even feeling of crappiness and was going to make it through! My slow shuffle made me feel like I was flying around many who were walking, which gave me a warped sense of "picking it up." Hey, whatever works. A highlight then came at mile 23 or 24 (I forget), when we came off an island and around the corner, and I caught the eye of a spectator -- who happened to be Kevin Hanson from Hansons-Brooks. Finally, my rainman-like quality for knowing names in the running community paid off when he shouted encouraging words and gave me a boost. "Thanks, Hanson!" I yelled back (I admittedly didn't know which brother it was at the time and had to do a Google image search just now).
Eventually, races end, and mine did in 3:52. Far off my goal but I kept my streak alive. The older I get and the harder running gets, the more this means to me because I know it might not always be possible. My husband was at the finish, having finished long before me, and my parents were there, as well. It wasn't even 11 a.m., and we had the whole day ahead of us. It turned out to be a great trip and I have very positive feelings about the whole race experience, even if it didn't go well. In fact, I've been drawing on a lot of those feelings as I work through some bumps in my training this winter...but that's another post.
