A Run in Review

A marathon. What woman, in her right mind, would put that as a 101 List goal?

Obviously, I wasn’t in my right mind. I was also out of my mind to sign up for my first marathon in mid-April, when spring weather makes predicting temperatures as bit, well, unpredictable.

The course was 26.2 miles (as all marathons are), winding around White Rock Lake in Dallas and its surrounding neighborhoods.

We arrived early and checked it. The temperatures were already 83F at 7 am. I was definitely worried about breaking down.

I think this is the last time I smiled. We had no idea what was awaiting us.

And what was awaiting us? 85F at the start line and too few water/gatorade stations. Lots of sun and powerful (nearly knock-you-over) wind.

Despite this, I had a fantastic half-marathon to start. I ran the first 13.1 miles of the race stronger than I ever have, with a good pace and good energy. Then it all fell apart and yes, I did break down.

I would like to note that our friend, John, had these clever shirts made for us. It generated a lot of encouraging comments throughout the race – very much appreciated!

As I was saying, I broke down. The temperature at the halfway point was 87F with brutal sunshine. I rapidly went from running a 4:1 (which means run 4 minutes, walk 1 minute) to a 3:2 to a 2:3 to a 1:4 to run 100-500 feet whenever I thought I could.

I would have been more discouraged about the situation, but no one around me was running either. It was one long row of walking runners. I simply forced myself to walk 15 minute miles (a horrible pace when you’re as physically sapped as I was) and pushed on to the end.

My only goal was to finish the race, which I managed to do in under 6 hours. Again, not pretty, but I finished.

And the best part about finishing last out of your group is that The Boy comes back to greet you and cheer you in. He even let me cry and then ran alongside shouting “FIRST TIMER! FIRST TIMER!” to the finish line.

FYI – that just made me cry more.

There is nothing like rubbing down with a cold towel. A marathon doesn’t leave you sweaty, you see. It leaves you post-sweaty – covered with dried salt and radiating odor. Washing a lot of that off before getting in the car goes a long way to making you feel human again.

Can I just say that I’m really proud to have this?

And can I also confess that I’m not so scarred from this experience to rule out ever running a marathon again?