a story behind every marathon

I've heard that there is a story for every marathon, and after today, I believe it. In typical "Mel" fashion, the story isn't uneventful, nor does it end up the way it was supposed to finish.

If you want the short version, I am NOT a marathoner; the marathon chewed me up and spit me out. I registered a DNF. :( Paramedics on the course, then in the ambulance highly recommended that I don't continue, and called to have me brought to the medical tent at the finish line.

Feel free to skip the long version; I'm extremely emotional, as you'll soon discover. Will try not to turn this into a pity party post... but need to get my thoughts and emotions out there, even if only for myself.

However, before I begin, first I must tell you that while I respected the marathon distance before today, I have an even higher respect for the distance and those that have run it, and even those that have tried!  My alternative title for this post was "what? run all 42.2k... today?!"

As expected, I didn't sleep much last night, and my day started off bright and early. Forced down a bagel with peanut butter that seemed exceptionally dry, perhaps because my jaw muscles and taste buds were not yet fully awake. My coffee never tasted better, however.

Got to the running store where I met the other runners in my group, left my car, and we were off.  

My dad called yesterday to wish me luck, asked where the finish like would be, and told me to call him at 6:30am.  I did, and he said he'd see me later! OMG!  If you recall from a post not long ago, I was a little disappointed by his lack luster response to me running the marathon. Let me back up a moment and explain what may have prompted the change of heart.

Friday after picking up the race kit, I had to go to his place and fix his internet; he was there when I arrived, but left shortly after. I left him a note to let him know I'd need to come back, it wasn't yet fixed, and to keep his fingers crossed for me on Sunday and perhaps I'd be a marathoner like him. When he called yesterday, I further explained why a marathon, what it meant to me, and why my goal was to do one at age 32.

At the race site, plenty of porta-potties, plenty of people in line too. Thankfully I got in there early... have I mentioned I hate those things? Funny thing is that inside the porta-potty was a quote that I thought I'd remember, but quite obviously has been replaced by many other thoughts.  I think it was George Sheehan, and said something like 'runners are all equal, just their paces are different'.  

Race started, all seemed fine. Settled into an easy pace with one of the girls from the group. My leg was even feeling pretty good. But by 8k, I could tell that whatever natural painkillers were being released into my system by race excitement and adrenaline was quickly wearing off. 

 

By 15k, I had separated from the girl that I started running with; told her to go on ahead as I was starting to experience more pain, which worked out because she almost immediately ran into someone she knew! I slowed a bit more, trying to find some relief, something that might help, but no luck. I tried convincing myself that it hurt more to walk, and figured that a slow shuffle was better than a slow walk; convincing myself proved to be difficult.  

Passed a guy that we'll call Mr. Big.  Seriously, he was tall, looked to be built for a tackle football game; not a marathon. He clapped for me as I passed him, ever so slowly, and I thanked him.  We chatted briefly.

Heading towards the turn around point at about 23k, we were crossing paths with those already on their way back. I was scanning the faces, just in case.  Yellow Marathon Maniacs singlet passed, recognized Marci's hubby! Knowing Marci was out there rockin' her 12th marathon and probably pretty close to her hubby, I kept my eyes open, and tried to muster a run -- spotted another Marathon Maniacs singlet shortly after, looked like her, so I shouted out her name! She turned back and waved! Awesome to see you! Congrats!

Once I passed her, turned the corner, went back to my equally painful walk.  Came up to the 24k marker, and so badly wanted the numbers to be reversed.  I wanted it to read 42k, but it didn't. About 100 meters away from the sharp turn around, I finally cracked a smile! The volunteers were awesome, totally encouraging, waving me forward, so I indulged them, mustered my shuffle once again.  They high-fived me as I made the turn and I felt the sting on my hands for a few good seconds.  I was now about to cross paths with Mr. Big... he was walking.  Told him that if the volunteers could get me running, it was now his turn.  He ran.  

Still shuffling forward, I reminded myself that I didn't come out here to disappoint anyone. I visualized seeing Terron, my dad, Marlene who said she'd wait for me after her half... I'm so sorry!! and two friends from high school -- so badly wanted to see them again! Thought about all the sunday mornings I got up early to train, all the ART sessions. Read the comments on my motivation band -- all your wonderful words of encouragement, through tear-filled eyes, unfortunately the pain was winning over.  Felt like a hot poker sticking into the back of my leg, and running up to the bum with each step.

Got onto a waterfront trail, saw the skyline, a race photographer, and once out of his earshot, broke down into a sob. This is not how I wanted my story to end.  

As I was about to exit the park, I saw two mobile paramedics on bikes, and with a quiver in my voice, asked if they had any Advil or anything else that might help.  Nope, they didn't carry any, best they could do, other than calling for an ambulance or a ride back, was provide me with an ice pack with a cloth strip to try to wrap it around my leg. They asked if I really wanted to continue, as they noticed I was limping pretty badly, I told them that I wasn't giving up, I'd walk it if I had to... by this point I had completely walked the last 4k.  After some encouragement and kind words, I set off again, but fought with the ice pack a bit to keep it in place.

I think it was a short time later that I came up to some signs saying to touch the shoe, and soon came upon The Shoe of Strength. Damn right I touched it, was looking for anything to help... but I guess all the strength it had must have been sucked up the other thousands of runners before me.  By this point, I was pretty sure that pylons and aid stations were being packed up behind my steps.  

Btw, Kim, you'll be pleased know that at least I didn't trip over any orange cones. Didn't take a picture of one for fear that my luck would change lol.

The mobile paramedic passed me again, asked how i was, I cried telling her I really just wanted to finish, bless her heart, she was great.

Walked, stopped. Stretched. Walked, stopped. Stretched. This is how it would continue for about the next 20 minutes, at which point I realized that I'd be there for a long time if I had any hope of crossing. And really, how long would friends and family be willing to wait? Fair of me to make them wait so long?  

I saw an aid station which was not too far in reality, but seemed like a mirage, and so far away. Walking towards me; a volunteer.  He asked if I was ok -- no longer able to be brave and act tough, I simply replied no. He put his arm around my waist, and tried walking with me, and asked if I wanted to get water at the station, which was the 36k marker. I stopped, tried once again to stretch, he covered me with a blanket, at which time I sat on the curb and cried. Again. Two other volunteers came; once again, the words of encouragement from all three helpful to someone completely defeated.  They flagged down the police, who radio'd for a paramedic who was there soon after.

I always get a twinge in my heart hearing ambulance sirens while running a race... thankfully they didn't bother with sirens.  Led into the ambulance where they took my vitals and were shocked that my blood pressure was so low. I told him I'd been slowing walking limping for the last 10k, so certainly not a 'hard effort'.  They suggested taking me to the hospital, which I really didn't feel necessary, since I know I had been fueling properly, taking in water and gatorade at each station, Gu's every 45 minutes and electolyte tabs. I signed off on the documents, but was strongly urged to stop.  Hit the stop button on my Garmin, 35.98k/22.35 miles completed.  My race was done.

Since I wasn't going to the hospital, they radio'd for another paramedic to come get me and drive me to the finish -- so there's my ambulance from the paramedic's van. Ugh.  I felt bad as I rode in silence, no attempt made at small talk and as we drove by the finish line, I choked back more tears. 

Into the med tent, physical therapist noticed swelling immediately, felt around, huge knot.  Icing it, spoke to some of the other walking wounded; felt like I was in a M.A.S.H ward. One of the volunteers was kind enough to lend me her phone to call Jay. He was there within a few minutes, Terron by his side with roses in hand. How I would have loved to get them as I was crossing the line.  I cried again, he cried (apple didn't fall far from the tree, eh?). Used Jay's phone to call my dad as they hadn't met up.

He had been waiting for me at the 36k aid station... the one that I didn't make it too, shy by only 200 meters, and I didn't see his car, nor would I have been looking for it as we drove by.  Way to go Mel... no wonder you never feel good enough.

He was very encouraging, and yes, I was crying talking to him, in case you were wondering. lol Jay went to get the car; the others from the running group came to see me, they all finished. I'm so proud of them.

Contemplated waiting a few days to write this post, but figured that my emotions are true and honest at this very moment, and when I will need to, I will have a reminder about how I felt on this day.  Will it make me appreciate the next marathon that much more, absolutely. 

Got home, took an ice bath, compression socks on, phone rang. It was my dad. He told me he was proud of me, I fought through what many others wouldn't, and that I just train again, there will be other marathons. Even though I didn't finish this marathon, I got a lot more out of this day; something I've been seeking for years; to hear those words. I made sure to tell him how much it meant to me that he was there. He also told me to stop apologizing. Sorry dad.

Obviously, I didn't foresee this happening.  Looking back, only a few hours later, had I known that FOR SURE I wouldn't finish the marathon, I would have turned with the half-marathoners and finished that course. I hit the distance and then some for the half, at least it wouldn't have been a total bust.

A huge thank you to all of you for your support, sorry you're not reading the race report I had in mind. 

Also, the volunteers always make the events possible; today was no exception. The volunteers at this race, those that I dealt with especially, a huge thank you. You guys were amazing. To the paramedics and police officers, thanks for being out there, so encouraging and helping as well.

One last thing that I've since realized. My ultimate dream goal was to complete a marathon at 32, today, I'm 31. Knowing that I won't be running a fall marathon with San Fran's Nike HM in October, I will try to be healthy for another spring marathon next year, at which time I'll be 32.

I am humbled.