My First Marathon

I would be amiss if I didn’t start out this post by thanking everyone who supported me over this marathon journey.  From my first run in September, to my half in October, to my stress fracture in December, to this past Sunday, the outpouring of texts, FB posts, FB and IG likes, calls and everything in between.  It really shows that when used correctly, social media has to power to build people up and provide a supportive environment for any dreams and goals that people have.  Over the last four and a half months, I KNOW that I inundated the internet with pictures of my runs and workouts and quotes that kept me motivated, but STILL, instead of being annoyed, people went through all the emotion with me:  hope, encouragement, caution, disappointment, reassurance and finally overwhelming excitement for my accomplishment.  I felt everyone with me the entire time and it was everything I needed to get me through.  I hope that through this journey, I have inspired YOU to do something you never thought you could do AND to share that journey with others.

On Saturday morning, my Grandma and I drove into the city to pick up my bib and get acquainted with where she would be dropping me off the next day.  I purchased a VIP pre-race package, so I was able to spend the hour before the race the next day in a little café with heat, bathrooms and snacks.  It was probably the best decision I made.  As per a suggestion made by another running friend, I made a sign for the back of my shirt that said:  First Marathon!  What an amazing idea and HUGE blessing that was.  Before the run in the VIP lounge, I met a number of people who struck up conversations with me because of my sign. One woman I met was running her 32^nd marathon, but hadn’t run more than 13 miles in the last two years.  One man had just done the Arizona Ironman two months earlier.  Out at the start of the race, I talked to a man who was running his 60^th marathon over the course of the last 20 years!

I was surprised by how small the race was.  I can’t speak for the half marathon and 10K, because their starting line was at a different location, but I was in the very last corral, and it only took me about 10 minutes to get to the starting line.  In my experiences with races in Philly, sometimes it takes my corral 30-40 minutes to get to the front, and I’m not usually in the last corral.

I kept a steady 11-minute mile pace for the first half of the run.  I was really excited because I was on track to finish under 5 hours.  I could say that I didn’t have a time goal, but I really believe that everyone has a number in the back of their heads that they’re hoping to hit.  I was having NO foot pain and I was feeling really good.  So many people passing me saw the sign on my back and gave me thumbs up, high fives, words of encouragement and congratulations.

Things really started to slow down around mile 18.  While my injury was causing me no pain, the bottoms of my feet and my calves were killing me.  I was walking more and more and my 11-minute mile pace was creeping up to 11:05 and 11:10.  At one point, I expressed my struggles to a man who was trying to give me some encouragement.  He said, “You’re doing great.  Remember, you’re not the only one in pain right now… EVERYONE is in pain.  But you’re going to finish.”  That actually really helped.  He was right, everyone was in pain, not just me.

Around mile 24, I started running with a guy who had nothing but a pair of shorts and his bib on.  He started talking to me about where I was from, what I did for a living, and telling me a little bit about him self.  I am sure he was doing that to keep me distracted, but it was nice and it worked.  I was able to run another mile without stopping to walk.

I’m not a super sentimental person, but I absolutely cried when I crossed the finish line.  This race was, undoubtedly, the hardest thing I have ever physically done.  Thinking about the months of training, the set backs, and even the knee surgery I had just one day shy of 18 month before, I couldn’t believe I had done it.  I couldn’t believe my body physically made it through, but I also couldn’t believe I mentally allowed myself to take that risk.  I had a lot of time to think about what I was doing, a lot of time to convince myself I couldn’t, a lot of time to freak out and panic, a lot of time to back out.  But I didn’t.  Now, I really do believe I can do anything.

And if I can do it, so can you.