Maratón Numero Dos

September 15, 2012, I ran the Top of Utah marathon in Logan, Utah. Let me start by saying it went SO MUCH BETTER than the first one. Since it was in Logan, which is just under two and a half hours from Provo, I went up the night before and stayed in a hotel. My awesome roommate Renae came with me because I didn't know how I'd be feeling afterward and didn't want to have to worry about driving home and dying. Also, I was sad about facing the prospect of running into the finish line alone.

We went up Friday night and got my race packet and then found a place to eat. There had been some traffic, so it was about 7 by the time we got there. We found this little Italian place called Gia's and decided to eat there. (We had wanted to try Chuckarama but the line was super long and we were both hesitant to eat at a place with the word "chuck" in the name.) I got pasta puttanesca, which literally mean's "whore's style." Awesome. I'm all about that. It was really good but goodness gracious, it was SO garlicy. I knew that would come back to haunt me but I had to eat something. They also gave us bread with vinegar and oil, which is funny because that's become something of a staple in our house. I'm not a huge fan of the vinegar and oil, but I sure love the bread.

After a super adventurous trip of trying to find our hotel and driving about half an hour up a canyon and getting lost approximately 6483 times, we got checked in and went to our room. It was pretty swanky. Maybe I'm just easily impressed. Maybe both. But what really made me happy was that they were starting breakfast at 4 am on the 15th so runners could eat breakfast! Yessss. Obviously they were used to people staying there the night before. There was also a free shuttle from the hotel to the park where the buses picked us up and took us to the starting line. When we got to our room, I got ready for bed and tried to zonk out asap.

Keyword: tried. I always have issues sleeping when I know I need to get up early in the morning, and this was a double whammy because of nerves and adrenaline and me stressing about being prepared. I kept thinking through what I'd do when I got up in the morning (get dressed; tape; knee brace; brush teeth; eat breakfast; take an extra banana on the bus; eat the banana at the starting line) and picturing myself running and worrying that my knee would hurt and thinking about my pacing. It was kind of too bad I had to waste that super comfy bed with no sleeping. My alarm went off at the unholy hour of 4:15 (the shuttle to the starting line left at 5). I went through my little routine I'd run through 800 times in my head the night before. I went up to the breakfast place and ate a banana and a piece of toast with peanut butter and honey on it. I successfully got on the bus and got to the park where the buses would take us up the canyon. I even sort of dozed off on the long bus ride.

We got up to the starting line and got off the buses. It was FREEZING. I'm not kidding. It was even colder than the Teton Dam marathon start, which I had definitely not anticipated. I had my trusty long-sleeve men's crew-neck I'd picked out at the Rexburg D.I. before the Teton Dam marathon. It was too big and I chose it because I wouldn't get attached so leaving it behind on the side of the road wouldn't be a problem. It wasn't keeping me super warm. But they had a big heated tent for us to sit in while waiting for race time. I waited in line for about ten minutes to go to the bathroom and then had ten minutes to drink some water, drink some Gatorade, and try not to freeze to death. We all started lining up. I was getting very nervous. The thought of not having my parents driving along to the checkpoints and making sure I was alive and taking my layers and giving me ibuprofen and a granola bar and gross energy gum and running with me when I wanted to die was daunting and scary and sad and I felt kind of lonely and I was cold and I suddenly did not want to do this at all. But luckily before I could get too hysterical, the gun went off. (P.S. The gun was a musket and there were people dressed up as frontiersmen. I still have no idea why; no one provided any kind of explanation for this.)

Since there were about 2 billion people running the race, it took almost two full minutes before I could get to my pace, but once I hit my stride, I was awesome. Seriously. I was running strong and I was running my race and I was golden. The miles passed easily, I was in no pain (well, relatively...there's no such thing as truly NO pain when running, at least for me), and I felt like a machine. I had to stop at mile 4 to go to the bathroom, which was annoying, because I had only been running for like half an hour! Come on! But oh well. My big toe was hurting with every step, right at the knuckle type place, but it wasn't bad enough to make any sort of impact. I was way way ahead of the 4:15 pacer and I felt AMAZING.

I tried some GU at mile 11. It was naaaaaaasty. The strawberry-banana flavor could not mask whatever the nasty underlying taste was, and the gel was kind of a gross texture that I wasn't used to. But it did its job and I was still cruising along. All along the way, I was so much smarter than in my first marathon. I stopped and walked through every water station after mile 11 or so. I took water and, at every two or three miles, I had Gatorade, too. I took orange slices and little bits of banana. I had to stop again for the bathroom at mile 15(? I can't remember) and got a little behind the 4:15 pacer, but I easily passed them and still felt great. I began to entertain the idea of beating my goal of 4:20 by leaps and bounds. At mile 18, a spectator was blasting the Olympic theme to pump us up. It was great. I was still running strong, and I reflected on the fact that I was already past where I'd had my mental breakdown last time. I felt like a superhero!!

Cue mile 19. The ground got kind of uneven and I had to go around a slight bend, and suddenly, with absolutely no warning, my fears were realized: I felt the old stab in my knee. Noooo! But it went away after a few steps. I told myself to calm down. It was just the corner that did it. I was fine. I walked through the next aid station, slugging my water and Gatorade, and then started running again after crushing my paper cup and tossing it in the garbage. (It pleases me to announce that I only threw 3 cups on the side of the road; the rest went into an actual trash can.) OH my knee hurt SO BADLY. This was not good. But again, I hit a stride and the pain eased up. I had slackened my pace a good deal though--going from 9-minute miles in the beginning to 9:20 miles for a while and then 9:30 and now 9:45. Mile 20 brought more steady pain. And finally, mile 21 was where my knee really began to give out. I had to stop to walk somewhere along the mile, not at the aid station.

I started to get really frustrated. Why couldn't I just run the way I wanted? Runner after runner passed me and I wanted to cry. I'd been doing so well. After walking for .2 of a mile, I forced myself to start running again, and I have to admit a few tears did escape because I was in AGONY. Miles 21-24 are sort of a haze of pain and frustration. At some point, the 4:15 pacers got by me and I had to admit defeat on that platform. I would not be running a sub-4:15 marathon. But I was still dead-set on getting my goal of 4:20. I had some more GU at mile...23? I'm not entirely sure where. It was a nice jolt of energy, but what I needed was some ibuprofen. Realistically, though, I knew that no ibuprofen would kick in fast enough to do me any good, so I just needed to be done. There was only one way to make that happen. So I just had to grit my teeth and get through it.

Mile 25 brought an incline up a residential street. WHO PLANNED THAT? I may or may not have been cursing whoever planned the course. Somewhere, like 24 or 25, Renae was waiting and took some pictures. Even as tired and in pain as I was, I was in such better shape than the Teton Dam marathon. I don't know if I'll ever get over the relationship you have with other runners during a marathon. Most of the time, you hit a stride and you sort of have a "pack" of people with your same pace, so you end up running somewhat together and passing each other. There was a guy I'd been playing leapfrog with since my slowdown at mile 21, and toward mile 24 or 25 we started encouraging one another when we'd pass. When I was walking and he passed me, he'd say, "Come on, keep it up!" and slap me on the back as he passed. When he was walking and I passed him, I'd say, "You got this!" and we'd fist pump. It's kind of weird after the fact, but during the race it makes total sense and you don't even think twice. And whenever you see someone walking and you pass them, you encourage them. It doesn't matter that you've never met, it doesn't matter that you'll never actually meet, it doesn't matter that you don't know one another's names or stories or anything--nothing matters because only another marathon runner knows how it feels so only another marathon runner can say things at that point like, "We're getting close!" and not make you want to scream at them. Sorry, spectators, but saying things like, "You look great!", "You're amazing!", or "You're so close!" doesn't actually help. In the beginning it's nice, toward the middle I start thinking, "I do not look great.", and by the end I'm apathetic toward you. (Don't stop encouraging marathon runners, though. It's a really nice dynamic and as a sociologist I love the collective effervescence idea.)

Finally, finally, I knew I was almost done. My Garmin was about .2 of a mile ahead of the mile markers on the course, for some reason, so when my Garmin said 26 miles I told myself, "Just .4 to go. No more stopping. This is happening." I don't remember what my time was at that point, but I knew my goal was in my reach. I was hurting pretty bad, but I was determined that I would totally meet my goal this time.

Seeing the mile marker for mile 26 is actually kind of the worst feeling in the world. There is no feeling of relief, like "Only .2 to go!" No. Instead, I just want to sob because I'm thinking, "I cannot run another step! .2 is forever!" You will seriously never understand how long .2 of a mile can be until you hit mile 26. And at mile 26, the spectators know you have nothing left. They're not smiling while they cheer you on anymore. Most of them look concerned and flat-out terrified that you are going to pass out and die right in front of them. Or maybe that's just when they see me and the panic and horror on my face. One woman actually pointed around a corner and said, "It's right there!" and there was so much pity on her face I'm willing to bet money she had run a marathon at some point. There's just no way to understand if you haven't done it.

Seeing the finish line can almost be as bad as seeing the mile 26 marker, because it's RIGHT THERE but it feels like I absolutely CANNOT get there! And some hotshot came sprinting in and passed me right at the end--literally a DEAD SPRINT. I thought, "If you have that much left at the end, you weren't running hard enough all along!" I had envisioned myself with this nice kick to cross the finish line. Ha. I told my legs to run faster and my pace literally did not change even remotely. I just couldn't run any faster. But I crossed that finish line at 4:20! I was so happy. And just like with the Teton Dam, there's this mess of confusion after you finish--you're done and someone puts a medal around your neck and people are congratulating you and cheering for you and telling you you're awesome and there are a ton of people milling around and you bump into people and you're just wheezing out "Thank you" and "Excuse me" and you have no idea where to go or what to do. I got water, but I didn't want anything else they were offering. They had cheese curds (why??) and Goldfish crackers and chocolate milk and ice cream sandwiches and, worst of all, BBQ ribs. I know many people find BBQ ribs to be fabulous, but after a marathon? After a marathon I don't want to eat anything, and as a vegan, my choices were seriously curtailed. It's okay though--I got my water and red Gatorade (what flavor is that, anyway?) and that's all I wanted. Renae found me and took an oh-so-lovely picture of me with my medal and we headed back to the car. I had texts from people wishing me good luck from the morning. I called home, because they cared the most, and Mom had been getting text updates for some of the miles along the way, so she knew my time already and was excited for me. She was probably the only person who really cared for all the details and everything else. I mean, everyone cares and wants to know how it went and thinks you're awesome, but no one cares like your mom cares. It's just a fact of life.

I was supposed to be checked out of the hotel at noon, but there was no way that was happening. I showered and got ready as fast as I could, and then Renae and I hit the road. I even stayed awake the whole drive! It was not easy, I'll tell you that much. And then we got home (and my legs weren't even that horribly stiff after sitting still for two and a half hours) and my plan to go study fell through. Even when I told myself I was going to go to the library afterward, I knew I probably wouldn't really go. I was hoping I would have the motivation to do it, but I didn't. Oh well. Renae and I watched some Downton Abbey and then I watched some Arrested Development and dozed off on the couch. I was kind of congested, which happened last time, too, and I made myself get up every twenty minutes or half hour or so and walk around so I wouldn't die too completely. I was fast asleep by 10 that night and slept in until 8 the next morning. Bliss.

The aftermath has not been bad! My knee feels fine. My quads have been sort of sore. Honestly, it's nothing like last time and I've been more sore many times! My big toe still kind of hurts--not sure what went on there but it's nothing too awful. I ran today for the first time since the marathon. I only did 4 miles but boy was I tired! I was no inspiration, that much is true. I stopped to walk after every mile and I didn't even feel bad about it. (Okay, I felt a little bad.) All in all, I'm much more proud of this marathon. I will say I prefer the small numbers of Teton Dam, though, but that's definitely in my personality. I've decided my new goal is to at least hit double digits in my marathons. That means only 8 more to go!