Mom’s wisdom: Kristine, have you ever had a cut in your hand? While you’re cooking?
Umm. Sure.
Your hand already hurts when you’re holding the knife. Then it hurts even more when you cut an onion or a tomato?
Okay.
But what do you do? Do you stop cooking because your hand hurts?
No.
No, you don’t stop. You keep cooking even if your hand hurts because you have to finish your dish. That’s what you’re going to do today. You’re going to finish your dish.
I had gotten past the panic of the last few days. I was slowly adjusting into fight or flight mode. Luckily, the myriad logistics were keeping me from thinking of the big picture. Did you know that there is a lot to remember before a race? Time chips, shoe tags, singlets, bodyglide (that’s for chafing), sunscreen, race numbers, safety pins, energy gels, socks, bras, laces, contacts, hair up, hair down… You can get really bogged down in the micromanagement of your race. Thank goddess for me.
We reached the start of the race, a local high school in downtown Phoenix. Port-o-potty queues were already beginning to form, a low nervous din of chatting and dozens of people walking around in coats made of garbage bags. I felt kind of lonely. The comfort zone of my boyfriend, my mother and close friends were gone. I looked around. These people were going to be with me for the next 6 hours. I sure hope they’re nice.
After forcing one visit to the p-o-p’s, I made the executive decision not to get back in line. They were already heinous. I went back to my little team grouped together under a tree. Ramon, my coach, woke me from my reverie.
I think you need to get slapped. You have a permanent smile on your face. You look panicked.
That’s because I am.
He turned his attention to the rest of the group and hollered in his Spanish accent,
Das it peepull. You got ten minutes to get dresse for your race clothes. No more freaking out. Theese is eet.
Fight or flight.
Suddenly all was in motion and everyone knew where to go but me. I looked like a lost puppy asking people where, what, how. I reached the corrals and it seemed like everyone made sure to have a running partner. The announcer made note of the professional runners who were present (oh good, some competition) and then someone sang a lovely rendition of the Star Spangled Banner. I got choked up. I was really going to do this. All by myself. I took a deep breath, wiped away my tears, and heard the explosion of the gun. It started.I expected about 20 minutes to get to the start line, but I crossed in five minutes. I hadn’t miraculously increased my speed. The half marathoners, comprising the majority of the race, were sectioned away from us.
I looked up at the sky, just like the Team In Training information video told me, and forced myself to believe that I was lucky to be doing this race. I remembered what my mother said about finishing my dish. I forced a memory of Dave. God, would he even care if I did a marathon? He’d probably think that eating a giant bag of M&M’s would suffice.
The morning was extraordinary. The sky was ocean blue and absent of any clouds. About a mile or so into the race I saw a sign that said, “Marie Antoinette Cakes - cakes you’ll lose your head over.” I smiled to myself.
I ran on for a bit and turned around to see three girls from my team. Only one looked familiar. She asked me how I was doing and we all began to chat. I never expected to run the next 17 miles with them. They were the best running partners I could ask for. They were relaxed, funny, friendly, and slow! Just like me! During my whole training season, I always fell to the back of the pack. This was the first time I found a running clique that was just as unhurried as I was! How lucky to find them on race day.
At mile 3 I found my petite mother jumping up and down for me. I hammed it up for a picture.Seven tenths of a mile later Jay, Veronica and Tria were screaming my name. Racing can certainly make you feel like a celebrity. Jay was wonderful enough to rent a bike so he could survey my entire race.
How’s it going?
I found friends.
Good.
Life was grand an
d the next few miles flew by. I came to the realization that I was actually doing a marathon and I was proud of myself. I looked forward to each aid station. Not just because we would get peach flavored sports drink, but a team of 12-year-old-costumed cheerleaders were at each station ready to give us the perfect cheer. Each station had a different costume and I started looking forward to seeing the next surprise. There were pirates, superheroes, Rue Paul’s, Kiss – I loved them all and loved the reprieve even more.Around mile 10 I felt a tingle in my right foot. What is that? My Achilles? Why would that start hurting now? I ignored it. An important element of training is to learn how to ignore pain signals. (loco right?) By now I was comfortable discerning pain from exhaustion and pain that comes from an injury. I could only hope that I was just getting tired. I was sick most of last week and my energy level was still not one hundred percent. If it was only exhaustion endorphins and adrenaline would save me.
A few miles later the tendon, whose injury I tried to heal by not running 3 weeks before race, was now noticeably painful. Coupled with the Achilles pain I was trying to ignore, I conceded that this race was about to get a lot tougher.
I tried stopping to stretch but I was afraid of losing my running partners. They were now a very important life line to keep me going. Each time they took a potty break I took it as an opportunity to stretch. But in the end it wasn’t going to be enough for me. I wanted to walk. One of the girls decided that we should start playing the alphabet game. Genius! We went through bands. I was awful. Then we went through movies. I got better.
At the half marathon point (13.1), Jay rode up next to me. I told him that I was in a lot of pain. I started to panic. His being there was fast becoming an outlet. I told him to go and I caught up with the girls.
Around mile 19 the girls were picking up their pace and my pain was only increasing. I had to let them go. I slowed my pace and stopped to stretch seeing them get smaller and smaller. I was thankful to be with them for at least the majority of the race. Now being alone and in pain made giving up a viable option. I hoped Jay would ride up next to me and make an inappropriate joke. Then I remembered: I expected to run this race alone. I needed to keep going and to stop this nonsense. I retrieved my ipod and listened to the Rocky theme. I only had 7 miles to go.But it only took another mile until I saw that familiar face smiling at me. I started to tear.
Jay, just stay with me. I’m really digging deep now. I’m not sure if I can handle this pain.
Yes, you can. He jumped off his bike and with one hand on the handle bars he ran along side me for the final 6.2 miles. I looked at my watch and realized that I wasn’t going to reach my goal of 5 and half hours.
At mile 24 coach Lisa Witler found me.
Like a gift from the heavens! Here comes K-rock!
She told me that in less than a half hour I would be done. I could do that! For goodness sakes, I had been running for almost 6 hours anyway. What’s another 30 minutes? I kept telling myself out loud, I can do this, I can do this. I was grasping for anything to get me through.
I asked coach Witler if I was the last person on the team to finish.
Does it matter?
Yes, it matters. I wanted to beat Katie Holmes. And if I can’t beat Katie Holmes, I wanted to NOT be the last person on the team.
Ok, then there’s like seventeen people behind you.
At the end of mile 25 I heard the cow bell and coach Ramon joined our pack.
I guess I should do every marathon in over 6 hours so I can get escorted by three coaches.
I saw mile 26 and someone said, "You’re almost there!" After hearing that throughout the entire race, I finally let myself believe it.
I turned the corner and saw the finish line. I heard people screaming my name. I saw the clock. I heard the announcer. I saw my mother flashing her camera. Ramon turned to me and said, “Cross that finish line. You’re a marathoner.”
With my hands straight up in the air I thought of Dave and sprinted across the finish line.
As uncomfortable as this experience was I am forced to say that it was one of the greatest experiences I have ever had. Being out there and faced with your own determination and resilience gives you so much clarity about the kind of person you are, and who you want to be. If you didn’t think you were the kind of person who had the determination to withstand something so difficult you soon will be, and of course, your friends will always be there to help. I thought I would fall apart the day the doctor told me Dave wasn’t going to make it. But I didn’t. I stayed with him until he left this world and I went on with my life. So when I finished this marathon I thought I would experience something strange and unfamiliar, but it had already been there: an incredible sense of accomplishment and the will to keep going. I hope you had or will experience what I did the day I finished my first marathon. No, it wasn’t the time I wanted. I didn’t get the marathoner body I was hoping for and I didn't get that much faster as a runner, but I guess you have to leave room for a sequel.
Thank you for being with me on this amazing journey.
Mile 20.
You can't tell, but I'm flipping Jay the bird for taking a picture of me while I walked.
Here's my hero, Jay. 5 time iroman, 10 time marathoner, and guy mad at his girlfriend for boasting about him. Thank you for everything.
http://www.active.com/donate/tntnyc/Kristine
I decided to go for the 20 this Saturday. If you didn't already know, it isn't easy to run 20 miles straight in nyc, so I tried a brand new path starting south first towards Battery Park and working my way north towards the GWB bridge. Early on I saw the statue of liberty in the distance and it immediately lifted my mood. It was a great day - definitely the warmest conditions all month. I was having a great time. It must have showed because an Italian tourist clapped and cheered me on, "Bravo!"
