"I don't want to do this." This statement was made in the weeks leading up to this moment, multiple times in fact. Not going to link back to it, but last year made a blog post how it would never happen again, going into a marathon under trained. That post was made to motivate, instead if anything, it feels as if that post only caused more slacking. It certainly didn't encourage the behavior I wanted it to.
CT did give me an out, she said that I could drop to the half the days leading up to this moment. The problem, she found herself a cause, hence committing herself to doing the full. There's no way that I can do less than her, when she beats me at everything. Know what you are thinking, of course she spent the time and actually trained for this. If I spent zero time training, she's spent negative time! In her defense, she's been hurt. In my defense, yeah I've got nothing.
If this is a perfect storm for failure, it's here. Lining up at the starting line, the sky opened up and let loose a downfall of rain. Most marathons, there's always a level of nervousness in myself. Today is different, I had a feeling today was going to suck, the rain only multiplied that to drive the point home. Guuuuuush, goes the gun.
Running in a downpour makes some things easier, like no needing or caring where to step. It also helped having zero expectations for this thing. Didn't feel pressure to hang with people, pace groups, or anything. There is etiquette to running, I don't know if you the reader knows this or not. Maybe someday I'll go into more detail on this etiquette, but one thing NOT to do is run with your music blaring. Now, I'm not a cold hearted d-bag, but there are limits too. Knowing full well today was going to suck from the get go, I started my music playing (at a reasonable level). A couple miles in, a running friend decided to give me some grief for being shirtless. At first I didn't hear because of my music, or maybe being lost in my own world of suffering, but he had to repeat his comment again blaming my music. my response, "I didn't hear you because I'm deep into Taylor Swift right now", which got more than a few laughs from other runners around me.
Up until this point, I only remember doing one race in a downpour. The part I'll remember about this one, somewhere around mile 6 coming up to a crew of workers attempting feverishly to push water from a section of trail. They are out there with huge push brooms, there's actually a pump running trying to pull as much water as possible from one side to the other, meanwhile it's full on ankle deep and much to wide to even attempt or bother trying to hurdle. It's raining, we are all soaked, what's the point? Splash, splash, does this count as a tri-athalon?
Getting to the 10K timing mat, I almost felt good, dare I say cocky? Rounding the corner, there was one of the teams pushing a wheel chair, except there wasn't a team, it was one woman. Maybe the others were pulled off in the flash flood that I just crossed, either way helped her push her companion across the mat. Now, I did say cocky, not stupid, soon after the hill starts and this is where my helpfulness ended. That helpfulness was to build Karma for what I'm sure I'd need later, energy is at a premium and that needs to be conserved!
By this part of the course the numbers have thinned out. Soon the half marathon people get to turn and it becomes even more sparse. Somewhere in this section, again I was rocking out my guilty pleasure music, "Call Me Maybe" is on. I swear, I always get busted listening to this when running. Sure enough, a guy running by me breaks into singing along with it, not to be upstaged by him, but soon I joined along putting massive emphasis on "this is crazy" line.
There went the halfway point. Every step after this still running is a bonus, because honestly didn't think I'd make it much more than this. It isn't long before I believe I'm gaining on a friend and have this calming feeling knowing that chatting with him will make the suffering seem less. No sooner do I think those thoughts, then he tags his partner who is part of a relay team and if that wasn't bad enough, turns out it wasn't who I thought it was anyway! Was Karma not watching, when I helped push that wheelchair? The new runner for the relay team, happens to be the weather girl for one of the local stations and the relay team is comprised of people who work for that channel. She started out much faster than I currently was going, so initially she pulled away, but at some point I caught her and couldn't resist commenting to her as I passed "You better pick up the pace, the insert name of the competing channel's name, is gaining on you". She got a chuckle out of that. Couldn't resist, not sure which side Karma falls with that one.
Somewhere in mile sixteen, steps weren't coming as ease as they once were. Mile eighteen, knew something wasn't right anymore. My vision started to become tunnel vision. This is part of the course that is an out and back, so I was hearing people say hi to me, yet not seeing them at all. I do get runner stupid at times and it dawned on me that this probably wasn't good to keep dealing with, there certainly wasn't any point since I was only doing this race to survive, no time goals or anything, so finally shut it down and started walking a bit. Not too soon after, CT showed up and in passing told her my vision was funny and I'll see her again when she catches me, call me, maybe.
Somewhere in miles twenty to twenty-two, legs, specifically calves started cramping. At this point, walking had at least returned my vision back to normal. The cramping was a clear message from Karma, "This is why you train, stupid." Hearing the message and listening to the message are two completely different things. Lactic acid, threshold, all those concepts that I heard, but never really listened to, all made much more sense now.
The four hour pace group just pasted, now pride kicked in and there's no way am I putting up with an over four hour marathon, even under-trained! "Here's my number, Call Me Maybe", Karma. At this point my calves started hurting so bad, I basically could walk about ten feet, I'd stop message them for a bit, try another ten feet and repeat. With the people passing, I knew it was moments before CT showed up, surely that would boost my spirits and get me out of this bind!
CT showed up, when I collapsed to massage my calf, being the loving wife she is, she grabbed my other calf to help, only massaged so hard that calf instantly went into a full blown charlie horse. It wouldn't stop, it looked like a baby's fist was attempting to punch itself out and what's a visual without sound? I'll tell you, I was crying like a little girl. I admit it. Yeah, I'm embarrassed about it but I also admitted to listening to Call Me Maybe, how much worse could it get? The pain was excruciating, but the part that hurt worse was that I was twenty four miles into this thing, two miles from the finish and there was a good chance I'd have to give up. Well, you know with CT around, there is NO giving up. Once I stopped crying and the baby's fist left my calf, I hobbled a bit, every step forward is closer to being done.
The music stopped, not because in pain I found etiquette, but because my phone battery was almost dead. CT called a friend out on the course to come get me, he showed up and walked me to the finish line as she left to beat me no less.
The line got crossed. Officially, the worst marathon I've ever done. There's some lessons here, hope I'm hearing them and more importantly, hope I'm listening to them.
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