My First Half Marathon

I would like to tell you everything.

I would tell you everything, but there’s not enough space on the internet to put it all down here. Every little thing that’s happened to me since the last time that I made time to post on the blog. It’s all overwhelming. Instead I’ll offer a break down… a stream of consciousness. A list of phrases. And when I’m through we will all be on the same page, my skin shed to the floor, and we can start again. You’ll know where I am.

I last posted on June 16^th.

9 year old with a football.

Broken finger.

Two classes vs. summer sun.

Bikini.

6 miles.

Tan.

Fourth of July.

Mountains.

Fish.

Starlight.

Heartbreak.

Leaving me.

Pull back.

Leaving me.

Pull back.

8 miles.

Beer.

Pancakes. Nachos. Beer. Burgers. Beer.

Beer.

129. 131. 133. 135.

Going out.

Midterm.

6 weeks until Half Marathon.

Two classes vs. heartbreak

Dancing partner. Movies. Bowling. Curiosity.

Two classes vs. training runs

10 miles.

Finger splint removed. Still can’t make a fist.

Tan line. Tan lines. No tan lines.

Electric Run.

Sore knees. Lethargy.

2 miles. 5 miles. 2 miles.

Heartbreak.

Pull back.

Hope.

Hate.

Hurt.

End of term. One A. One Incomplete.

12 pages due October 10.

5 line dances in a row.

Confusion.

Numbness.

Beer.

Cleaning house. It’s okay to be alone.

Wake up at 6:00 AM.

Half Marathon.

13.1 miles.

Hope.

I ran my first Half Marathon on Sunday.

I had these dreams of coming home and writing all about it, picking out every little detail for you. Everything I felt. But you don’t realize until you stop running, until you slow down and hit a wall of smiling friends at the end of the line, you let your muscles rest and be sore. You don’t realize how tired you really are. Let’s start at the beginning.

In the 6 weeks leading up to the Half Marathon, I sketched out my training plan up on my fun, glass, Ikea white board. For those who are interested in doing a Half and don’t have anyone to train you, I used the Runner’s World Big Book of Marathon/Half Marathon training. The program really did get me up to the mileage, and it did it even though I pretty much blew off every long run but one of the 10 milers. I doubled up on some weeks just in case I got sick… but for the most part I followed it blindly.

So on my white board, I’d put a blue star over the runs that I did (total of about 14 weeks of training, by the way, so this was at the end). I marked through in red what I didn’t do. Here’s what it looks like now…

I wasn’t eating properly to support my workouts. I have been going out to get my mind off of all of the stress with my relationships and with school… with my work and with my relationships. I’d go out and get things and though my quantity wasn’t terrible (never overfull, always had enough leftovers for 1-2 meals afterward) I still felt sluggish. Perks were: No soda. No fast food.

August 30^th marked my one year anniversary of making goal. Between the eating poorly and the Half Marathon muscle growth, I’m still well under the 145 lb goal, but I’ve been teetering around 135 instead of down toward 130. I’m trying to accept that fact. My clothes all still fit.

Training finished. I made sure to run the last workouts of the week leading up to Sunday’s race. One two miler, one five, and another two. Then I took two days of rest (plus country line dancing and pushups). Went to sleep at 11 PM the night before the race to be up by 6 AM.

I didn’t shower. I had everything already packed up that I needed. Shoes. Spare socks. Two Island Boosts (energy gel). Water belt with Gatorade/water mix. Headphones. Long sleeve. Clothes for post race, if needed. The kitchen sink. A giraffe.

A friend of mine was volunteering for the race, so I picked him up on my way up to Concord, NH. That meant I had to arrive at 7 for him to be there on time. The race started at 9 AM.

I took my time getting ready. Put some friction aid on the side of my toes before slipping on my toe socks. Laced up my shoes. Left my jacket on until the last possible minute, but luckily the sun started to come out (it’s not summer anymore here in New Hampshire, folks). 

Stood around and chatted with people. I knew the organization that was putting the race on, so I knew a lot of the people there. So many hadn’t seen me for a year and were amazed at how I looked after all that training and all that running. It felt really good to be reminded of what I’d accomplished. A lot of the race tips for someone’s first Half Marathon is that you do a race that’s been established for a while and is popular because they’re going to be the ones that know how to keep you hydrated and take care of you. This was the second year of this Half and I was 100% accommodated. It was a great experience. I much preferred knowing tons of people to having a super crowded race.

Half hour left to go. I did a quick little jog around the park where the starting line was. Finished my jog at the porta-potties. Did some upper body stretches. Got my water belt on. Gave my friend my keys. Got my iPhone ready with MapMyWalk and music. I was ready to go.

I started about ¾ of the way back from the start line and watched as I kept up with the group around the first corner.

It’s interesting, running in New Hampshire. There’s never really a moment where you’re not going uphill or downhill. Everything is at least a gradual of each. So all of my training runs had plenty of hills, as did this course.

I remember every mile and yet I don’t. I don’t because I didn’t get a chance to drive or run/walk the course before the day of the race, so most of the time I had no idea where I was. The race was very well marked and I knew a bunch of the people out volunteering to hold back traffic, so it was so nice and motivating to get a kind word and a cheer as I moved forward.

Between miles 3 and 4

I started off fairly quickly. Unlike my training runs, my 3^rd and 4^th miles were not terrible at all. The “Mile 1” marker was a blessing. “Mile 2” a laugh, because very close by was a sign that read “You are not almost there.” Laughed with a couple that was running together, who I later passed and never saw again. “Mile 3” to “Mile 6” are sort of a blur. I did have my headphones (one in my ear, one tucked under the shoulder of my sports bra, so I could hear the other runners and traffic) in but I can’t remember too much of what was playing. I had it going for my pace and to hear when I was close to a mile marker.

“Mile 7” and “Mile 8” brought with it the craziest lower abdominal distress known to man. Wow. You really don’t know what bouncing up and down for an hour and a half can do to your organs. I didn’t get a single side stitch the entire race though… and I did plenty of upper body warm-ups, so the only part of me that felt this race were my heart and my legs.

“Mile 9” and “Mile 10” were exciting. I’d only ever ran 10 miles before this, so every step past the “Mile 10” mark were steps to glory and catching a new horizon with every footfall. Three miles of nothing but milestone.

“Mile 11” saw the pain. My right hamstring all the way up to my right butt cheek was sore. I started massaging my butt while I ran/walked. The walking became more frequent at this point, but it was the case also for the folks that were with me for most of the race.

12.5 Miles

“Mile 12” was heroic. One more mile left to go and I still hadn’t seen my friend at his second post. I knew I’d have someone soon cheering me on. Saw him at the 12.5 mile… the folks I ran with for most of the race were about 2 minutes in front of me. There were people about 2 minutes behind me. It was all me, just like the training and just like getting there and believing I could do it. I did this thing. No one made me, no one helped me (except for that same friend at the 12.5 mile mark took time to run a few of my mid-week medium length runs with me which I am so thankful for).

I knew Charles Street was my last turn. And when I saw that street sign my heart leapt. A slight downhill. And I could see the “13 Mile” marker up ahead. I stopped to walk a little… because I wanted that last .1 mile to be all running. And it was.

My goal for this first Half Marathon was two-fold. Don’t be last. Finish in 2 hours and 30 minutes. I had checked the time when I was starting to slow down and I had already decided that 2 hours, 35 minutes would have been okay…

But once that “13 Mile” mark was right there next to me and I picked up all the strength I had left to run the rest of the race, I entered White Park again, running now on the grass approaching the finish line. And I watched the grass, trying not to fall… and I look up. And I saw 2:28:00 on the clock and I was so happy. Both goals achieved.

I saw my handsome gentleman, still so important to me despite our recent issues and the recent heartbreak and anger/frustration/love. He got this picture of me crossing the finish line. And he walked up to hug me, but I couldn’t stop moving. My legs were insane.

Finish Line

I tried to stretch. I was too excited. I had my medal in one hand, a water bottle in the other. A couple more friends were there at the finish line and I just wanted to blurt out everything I was feeling and everything I saw and experienced.

13.1 miles of big hills…

Trees

Smiles

Cramps

Water

Whispering to myself

Mouthing song lyrics

Strength

Thinking

Loving

Running

Finally I was able to come down from the high. I gave the handsome gentleman the hug he was looking for, but all salty and disgusting. I was congratulated by so many. I checked my results.

Gun Time: 2:28:16

Net Time: 2:28:06

Pace: 11:16

76 out of 98 runners

8 out of 9 in F2029 Division

Looking ahead there’s so much I want to do.

I want to get back on track eating. I want to drink less and really try to focus to make sure I can get back down to 130 or so. I know it’s only 5 pounds… but I worked really hard to get 87 of them off. I don’t want to have to do that again.

Next up on the fitness train, when my legs finally recover (they’re still very “aware” of themselves) is Rushfit. Running a couple days a week. Trying to find that upper body strength that I had with ChaLean that sort of softened up with constant lower body movement. I still can’t make a fist with my broken finger side (left) so it’ll be challenging. I can’t wait to get started.

This coming Saturday, there’ll be a tattoo commemorating the whole experience of the Half Marathon.

And hopefully, next week and each week after will yield a new blog post as I try to put myself back together.

Even the strong ones struggle.

We question what’s right and what we’re doing.

If life were easy, it wouldn’t be worth it.