Marathon: Mile by Mile

Four days have gone by since I completed my first full marathon. On the front-side of the race I thought I would have so much to brag about upon crossing the finish line. And while I would not say the experience was anti-climatic, the experience wasn't as gut-wrenching as I thought it would be. I don't feel like I need to scream from the mountaintops: "Hey, I just ran 26.2 miles."

Arriving to the start area, I felt such pride in wearing a yellow-colored bib this year (as opposed to the blue bib of the half-marathoners). I felt good about my training and I made my way to the starting corrals feeling confident: although the past month had not been ideal runs and I had battled various ailments, I felt that I had balanced the training and resting well enough to get me across the finish line."You got this!" read a text message from a friend and my ultimate supporter in running. Knowing that others were thinking of me and sending positive vibes my way was a definite boost.

I was slated to be in starting corral 32--the last of the marathon corrals. I know I'm a slow runner, but my anxiety of finishing the race within the time-frame was not helped by the fact that I would be among the last of the marathoners to even start. I decided that if I could sneak into an earlier corral that I would--plus it was going to be a warm day, if I could start a few minutes earlier and get a couple miles in while it was still early in the day, I definitely wanted to do that. Around 7:40 my Garmin had fully loaded the satellites and was ready to track my running; I entered the starting chute among the runners of corral 21. I took in my surroundings realizing this was the moment of truth...this was the culmination of the past several months of training. Before I knew it, the air horn blew signaling the start for my corral...

I began moving and as I crossed the start line I became emotional thinking about what lay ahead of me: 26.2 miles of physical willpower and sheer determination. I got into stride and settled in with the pack. I was reminded I started with a faster corral when I hit the marker for Mile 1 in 10:44...nearly a minute faster than my half-marathon pace! (And nearly 2 minutes faster than my anticipated full-marathon pace.) I willed myself to slow down into my own pace and hoped the rabbit start wouldn't come back to haunt me later.

No time to dwell on the start, it was time to trudge up the first incline: a nice, gradual climb over 3 city blocks. And this was a case of 'what goes up, must come down' and we were rewarded with a speedy descent as we eased our way through Mile 2. As we turned onto Dearborn and then made our way down Rainier for the next 3 miles I noticed a pain in my ankles..both of them! What?! My knees? Yes. My hips? Yes. But my ankles? They have been my strong and faithful joints throughout this process! I guess their pain was overdue!

Right around Mile 4 there's a Starbucks along the course. As I ran by, two marathoners were coming out with cake-pops in their hands! They "cheers-ed" them together and hopped back on the course. This made me smile..because life is really about the little things! :)

Just beyond Mile 5, the course turned east. In my mind I knew we were headed for the water, which got me excited for the next several miles along Lake Washington. Just beyond mile 6 was the first split point in the race. Again, I became emotional as I veered to the right to follow the course for the marathoners. Somewhere between Mile 7 and 8 I began to wonder what I had gotten myself into--my ankles were still hurting and I was drenched in sweat--and it was still early in the morning (and early in the race). Just beyond Mile 8, we were treated to the most beautiful view of the radiant Mount Rainier across Lake Washington: it was breathtaking and inspiring and kept me moving. I pulled out my phone to take a picture and had received another text: "Keep movin'! Keep drinkin'! Keep smilin'!" Just what I needed. I also realized my ankles were no longer hurting--success!

At Mile 9 I caught up to two gals carrying American Flags for Wear Blue to Remember. I was chatting with them and stayed with them until Mile 10 when they stopped to walk. Just before Mile 11, we completed the loop around Seward Park and rejoined the street for the long march up Lake Washington Boulevard to the I-90 bridge.

Just beyond Mile 12 the marathon course rejoined the half marathon course and I again felt emotional. It was also great to be reunited with other runners! From Mile 13 to 14 was the Memory Mile and was filled with pictures of fallen soldiers. Although I was expecting it, it didn't make things easier--I wasn't able to completely harden my emotions and I did choke up a little bit, especially near the end of the mile when the road was lined with American flags. Luckily, the mile ended with a photo op from the sky, so I embraced the chance to throw my arms up and be goofy and lighten my heart a little.

Mile 15: the horrible hill up to the I-90 bridge. I stopped to walk for the first time. But as soon as I got onto the bridge, I began running again--it was a slight downhill, afterall! Weather wise, the I-90 bridge was what I was dreading the most: completely exposed pavement in the middle of the water with not even a light breeze. A nice respite from the sun came at Mile 17 when we entered a tunnel: nice and cool! Mile 18 was the turn-around point and a time of more emotions--I felt like I was in the home stretch. Back through the tunnel at Mile 19 and then back across the water where I hit Mile 20 on the midspan on the bridge. More emotions--this was officially the longest run of my life!

Somewhere between Mile 21 and 22 is where things really became a mind-over-matter issue. But I also knew that Mike was waiting for me just ahead beyond Mile 23, so I pushed on, excited to see him. At Mile 23 began a long descent down into the city and it felt so good! And then I tweaked my knee--I'm not sure exactly what happened, just that it hurt if I ran and felt okay if I walked. Giving in to defeat, I knew I would probably have to walk it out. Up ahead, I saw Mike. When I reached him, I grabbed him off the sidewalk and made him walk with me until the course split and we each took our own path to the finish line. Down a steep hill and then right back up onto the viaduct for me. But the sunshine of the day made a gorgeous waterfront view! When I reach mile 25 I knew I had it made. I felt good and I felt strong (as long as I didn't try to run!).

With a smile on my face, I walked the final mile and saw another familiar friendly face at Mile 26. He encouraged me and told me I was looking good. With the finish line in site, I really just wanted to run to the end, but I continued to walk, thinking it would be better to walk to the end and feel good than to run and feel awful. I made it! I crossed the finish line with no emotions. I guess the emotions had drained from me throughout the many miles of the course. I felt good and I felt proud, but I also felt slight disappointment knowing I could have 'done better.'

Perhaps a redemption run is in store. Or perhaps this is where my marathon career ends: not knowing the sheer pain other runners feel by pushing themselves too hard or too far.