Running Through Agony To Joy

Driving out of the hotel parking lot, about 45 minutes from the starting line, the temperature outside was in the 40’s and the winds were whipping.  25 minutes down the road, light rain drops started falling.  Got a little panicked, as now was I not only broken and expecting 30 degree temps with little to no wind, but surely I was going to get hypothermia in this weather.   Thankfully by the time we pulled into the high school parking lot and boarded the bus, the wind was light and the rain was non-existent.  WHEW!

After what seemed like a very long uphill bus ride with the heat blasting, we arrived about a ¼ mile from the starting line.  Got off the bus and headed for the bathrooms with my friend’s nice puffy very warm jacket on to keep me warm.  Nice thing about a small race, the line for the bathroom was short and Steve and I headed for the bus, shed our jackets, and gave someone our drop bags that we would get at the finish.  Jumped up and down a little to stay warm, got many compliments on my cute outfit and we were off!

In Calistoga, before the start of the race.

It didn’t take long to warm up and Steve and I found a  nice rhythm.  It seemed like we were doing more passing, than being passed, were running around 7:20’s for 10 miles and trying to enjoy the view.  The whole “rolling hills” description is total BS as we had a couple legit climbs in there.   I was very happy with our half marathon pace of 1:38 and felt good enough that I was visualizing a PR.  The Flashdance song “What A Feeling” had played on the radio in the car on the way to the race and that is what I was singing in my head.  Couldn’t even feel my calf strain, my side/rib pain was barely there, and it didn’t feel like it was the only the 3^rd time running in my new Brooks. 

Feeling great about half way through the race!

Ah, the joy of running a marathon is there are so many different stages until you cross the finish line.  Between mile 14 and 15, the pain in my side became stronger and the hill climb left me in no mood to talk or enjoy any of the damn vineyards lining the course.  It got worse as we hit mile 16 (SIDE NOTE:  this course has a huge ass red flag at EVERY mile.  You could see them in the distance and all 26 of them were beautiful encouraging sites!!).  As we climbed a hill at mile 16 and ¾’s I started to walk. 

I am not a walker.  Don’t like to walk.  Don’t like to run with people who walk.  But I couldn’t catch my breath.

Steve told me to keep going and reminded me that I am not a walker.  He is a walker.  But I am NOT!  We had made a deal the day before that if any of us broke(injuries flared up), the other would continue going and not wait up.  It was deal.  Sealed with a kiss.  I told him to go.  He hesitated and I’m confident it was pretty hard for him to leave me walking on the side of the road, but off he went.   A very tall, slim, handsome (this has absolutely nothing to do with anything) man did slow down and ask me if I was ok. When I told him I was in pain but had an injury, he told me to hang on; someone would be there to pick me up. HELL NO! I was not going to get picked up.  If I was walking, I was not above crawling.

When the pain subsided I started running again.  Actually logged quite a few sub 7:45’s after mile 17.  Also spent a lot of time walking.  It seemed to hurt more when I drank so considered skipping the aid stations but figured that really wasn’t a good idea so decided to walk through aid stations.  What a concept!  I have heard of a ton of peeps that run marathons that way.  It helped me get through the pain.  The last few miles were a combination of not taking deep breaths because it was so painful and my legs blowing up because of lack of training due to being broke for almost 2 months.  At one point I ran a 9:20 mile. &^#%!*  There are no words.

A ton of women passed me in the last mile.  Didn’t care.  I was giving it all I could.  There was a guy in a grey shirt (not tall, yes slim, and I was dizzy but don’t think he was handsome) who I ran with the last few miles.  We didn’t talk.  We were both just trying to get to the finish line.  He had friends who offered him a coke.  What I would have given for a sip of that coke. 

The crowds were huge and so awesome near the finish.  They were actually all over the course.  Many yelled out that my outfit was cute (there is a point to this) and I always get the biggest chuckle when someone yells that they love my skirt!  Seriously, “GO GIRL GO! LOVE your skirt and your tank is so cute!” 

It was the longest .2 miles of my life and when I saw the finish and the announcer said my name I knew I had made it.  Not a PR.  Yet a respectable sub 3:30 marathon with a chip time of 3:27:51. Each finisher got their own personal “catcher” who gave them water and led them to the medal girls.  As my catcher was holding me, Steve came over to hug me (he finished in 3:21 which is a PR!!!) and asked if I was ok.  I think I said no, he said do you need to go to medical and I said yes.  A person from medical magically appeared to assist me (I wonder if I looked bad heading to the finish?) and as we were walking to the tent the guy in the grey shirt hit the pavement face down unconscious.  I thought my medical person should have left me and ran over there, but she (or he?) had a firm grip on me and a bunch of medics went and helped my grey shirt runner friend.  

As I was laying on the gurney, I heard someone ask for a defib.  I was so out of it.  Blood pressure was low.  Got juiced up and then needed to get the heck up and moving.  As I walked past grey shirt, he was on his back, EMT’s were working on him, his face was bloody, but his legs were moving and he had an oxygen mask on.  (Found out later he is OK!).

Apparently I didn't take in enough liquid nor breath deep enough for 10 miles.

Somewhere around mile 20 I questioned the sanity of why I like to run marathons.  Surely half’s were sufficient and maybe I should just work on speed and do 5ks.  The whole idea that I want to do a 50k was laughable.  But when you finish and get through the demons of pain that don’t allow you to take a deep breath and legs that are indescribably heavy, I realized why I sign up for these events.  To feel alive!  The thought of sitting at a spa for 3 hours and 27 minutes having my nails done, facials, and whatever else you do at spas seems torturous and incredibly BORING!  And pretty pointless.  If you get off on sitting down and having someone else do all the work for you to look pretty or relaxed, good on ya.  But for me, sweating, sorting out my problems as my feet hit the ground, and accomplishing something my body sometimes fights, is what does it for me.  It is what I need to do to live.  And when you look at all those who sign up again and again for marathons and ultras, I know I’m not alone.

After soup and oranges. 

Didn’t sign up for The Hapalua Half on Sunday as I thought I would be in recovery mode a week out from Napa. I still have pain in my side.  Ultrasound is Monday.  My left big toe is a little sore, not from the Brooks, from 9 miles of trail running on the most glorious trails outside of SF on Tuesday.  Today I looked if I could register for Hapalua.  I can.  The only thing that may hold me back is the $125 entry fee.  If I don’t run it, I’ll do as planned and cheer on my incredibly dedicated 16 year old who fell in love with running. 

Back to the Skirt: After a cup of hot soup and more gatorade and water, Steve and I went to pick up the drop bags.  A girl came up to me and said, "Cute outfit! I followed you the entire race and your outfit is so adorable!"  Steve and her husband/boyfriend smiled and the husband/boyfriend actually asked her if she would like to get my # since she was google eyes over the Lulu outfit.  I always tell Steve that people cheer for the skirt and he witnessed first hand on both ends how much fun it is for me, and those around me, to wear ruffles as I run.  

Spas may not be my thing, but a glass of wine while wearing compression socks is the perfect end to a long day of running!