My First Marathon

Most interesting runner: A runner in the half marathon ... juggling.

Favorite quote: Dad--"Let's see if I can discombobulate my hip back into place."

Biggest surprise: My knees never gave out.

First person I called after I finished: Melanie (sorry I couldn't call everyone--I was pooped)

Favorite mid-race snack: Peanuts (my brother had this for his last race, so I decided to try it--LOVED it!)

Least favorite mid-race snack: Cliff Shot--vanilla flavor. Gross. I recommend Accel Gel--vanilla flavor. Yum (tastes like cake batter).

Favorite spectator poster: "You go, fartlekers!"

Favorite post-race snack: Ibuprofen.




So, we woke up nice and early (Dad, Janie, and me) and made it downtown to watch the start of the 8K (5,000 people) and the half-marathon (5,000 people). Dad and I were seriously tempted to jump in and run the 8k (instead of the marathon). So, after the half-marathoners moved out, Dad and I started making our way to where the marathon would be starting (this was another 5,000 people). We wanted to take it nice and easy, and we didn't want to get run over in the beginning, so we walked all the way to the back. I never heard the gun go off, but I heard cheering so I was pretty sure we had started. It took us about 4 minutes to get to the start line.

The first 12 1/2 miles were wonderful (at least for me). We were running at a very comfortable pace and walking whenever we needed to. Dad was having a lot of issues with his left leg and hip, so he was struggling a little bit, but he hung in there. We were really enjoying the beautiful views (especially by the James River) and all the spectators. Runners World claims this to be the "Friendliest Marathon". We laughed at that title at first, but by the end we had to agree. There were spectators pretty much along the entire course--cheerleaders, live bands, local families, neighborhood parties, little kids with posters, dogs, etc. all cheering us on.

Around 12 1/2 miles, Dad said that he wasn't sure he would be able to finish. He wanted me to run on to see how fast I could run the last half and he would try to make it to the cut-off. Either way, we would meet at the finish line. I didn't want to leave him, but I also wanted to finish. And I knew he was hurting and finishing might not be an option for him for this race (he ended up dropping out at mile 17). So, I ran on.

The last thing I heard Dad yell was, "Pace yourself!" What did that mean? I wanted to yell back, "Can you be more specific?" I had no idea what to do at this point. I had just walked/run 12 1/2 miles (I made it to 13.1 around 3 hours). At one point during the first half, Dad had asked me if I had even broken a sweat. I don't think I did. My legs were definitely tired and a little bit sore, but they were also rested for the second half. So, how fast was I supposed to go? I didn't know what to do. So, I just ran. I ran past all the people who had passed us. In fact, no one ever passed me again until the last couple miles--and maybe a few when I stopped at the junk food table around mile 18--hehe. I was really enjoying this "passing other people" stuff. I realized that this would probably never happen again in a race for me, so I made the most of it. One guy even yelled as I passed him, "Hey, no passing allowed!" I yelled back, "Yeah, when I hit the wall you're welcome to pass me!" Seriously, I knew I was running too fast. I needed to conserve. But it felt SO good!

So, I kept up this pace for maybe 3 miles. Then, I slowed down. I was still able to run most of it. I walked through the water stations every 2 miles, just long enough to drink, then I was off again. It was a pretty warm day (77 by the time I finished) and very humid, so I was drinking a lot. It was tough getting to mile 20, but when I did it was almost smooth sailing from there. I wasn't too worried about my time, because I had come with no time goal--just to finish. So, I would walk 20-30 paces here and there if I needed to. Oddly, it felt great. It was tough after mile 20, but mentally I knew that I would be able to finish. I just tried to run as much as I could and I didn't feel guilty if I had to walk.

My brother-in-law asked me later what I was thinking about during the race. Other than imagining a big hawaiian pizza, a tall glass of ice cold water, ding-dongs, slippers, fresh-out-of-the-dryer pajamas, and a super soft bed with a masseuse waiting for me, I wasn't really thinking too much. Dad even asked me later how the rest of the course was. I was drawing a blank.

So, I got to mile 23 and I was so happy. We were almost done. The runners at this point were all very happy. I was surprised. At the end of my half-marathon in Greenville, we were all grunting and writhing in pain. Here we were all joking around, making conversation, and just SO happy to almost be finished with our marathon.

As I turned the corner to run the last .2, I got a little overwhelmed. There were thousands of people waiting on the sidelines. I ran past all of these people as they were yelling my name (again, I love the bibs with the names on them!). I picked up speed and flew through the finish line. Dad and Janie were waiting there with a ding-dong just for me. Sweet. My first marathon.

Pre-race picture. Do we look nervous?

Happy and tired and in pain.

This is the new disposable timing chip. They have it attached to the back of the bib. You peel it off the bib and stick the two ends together around a couple shoe laces. There's a tiny little chip to the right of the number (you can't see it in this picture). I guess it worked.

Official times:

Finish chip time: 5:08:43
Finish gun time: 5:12:41 (yeah, it took us 4 minutes to get to the start)
Half-marathon gun time: 2:55:58
Mile 20 gun time: 4:05:07

What? There's a marathon in Myrtle Beach in February? . . . .