Day 52: May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground

Yesterday's task:  26.2 miles
Yesterday's weather:  mid 40s, 15- 20 mph northeast winds with higher gusts

Yesterday's outcome:  26.2 miles in 3:54:32 (8:57 min/mile pace)

Today's task:  Walk half a block to the bus stop...and back!

Today's outcome:  Mission accomplished

My body wouldn't let me sleep past 4:45am today.  I think it was trying to tell me to get up and stretch my battered legs, so I listened.  Bending isn't something my left leg wants to do today, so I scooted down the stairs on my butt.  It hung on for 26.2 miles yesterday, so it deserved to be rewarded with a little coddling.  The rest of my body feels about as sore as I expected.  And I'm really hungry.  

So here it is, the post I've been waiting 16 weeks to write, the Shamrock Marathon race recap!

I was in bed by about 9pm the night before the race, unsure if nerves would keep me up most of the night.  I woke up at 11:30, 2, 3, and 4.  By 4:40, there was no going back to sleep, but I let my body lie in bed to conserve every ounce of energy for the day ahead.  I felt more excited than I did nervous, and I think it's because I decided to follow everyone's advice and remove all pressure to perform "well" and instead focus on finishing and enjoying the race.  I got suited up, and wrote my mother-in-law's initials and a shamrock on my hand for good luck:

We found a great parking spot on 23rd Street, and on the hotels on Atlantic Avenue, I could see the glow of what turned out to be a gorgeous sunrise.  We had plenty of time, so I played tourist in my own city to get a snapshot:

We made the short walk up to the start, fighting a stiff northeast wind along the way.  The thought of running about 11 miles of the race into that wind was sickening, but there wasn't a whole lot I could do about it.  We did plenty of training runs in high winds, so I'd just have to suck it up.  We stretched in front of the Hilton, where we were protected from the wind a bit, and I used their warm, clean bathroom several times within 30 minutes.  Race time approached so quickly, and it was all too soon time to get to the start (the touristy pics continued until I turned in my phone with my dry bag):

I kissed Ryan good bye and good luck, and made my way into Corral 2.  The horn went off, and there was no turning back.  What have I done???

Within a half mile, I could feel my IT band start to act up.  By mile 2, it had ramped up to the stabbing pain I had come to know and loathe for the past few weeks.  The longest run I had done since the 20 miler was 6 miles, and I experienced the same exact thing.  I remembered that it never loosened up or got better by the time I hit 6 miles, but it never got worse either.  It never got to the point where I thought I simply couldn't go on, and I just had to wish and hope that it would be the same way for this race.  I heard Peggy's voice in my head...she would never rate her pain level higher than a 5 out of 10, and she would always say "it won't last forever" when she was experiencing her worst abdominal pains.  Any time my brain went back to my knee pain, I told myself it wouldn't last forever.  Carry on.  

The race course took us through two military bases, which was both inspiring and depressing at the same time.  There were young men and women from the Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines, and National Guard out there cheering for us, and I took high 5s from any one of them who stuck out their hand.  I felt like a piece of shit having them out there supporting and encouraging me through a stupid race, when I'm not out there encouraging them on the front lines.  I did not feel worthy of their cheers, but I so appreciated them and drew from their energy as we went into the wind.  Carry on.

Going up and over the bridge at Rudee Inlet for the second time was a relief...no more hills!  Chugging up the bridge wasn't too terrible, but going back down left my ITB screaming for mercy.  But the downhill didn't last forever and it was back around Rudee Loop and onto the windy boardwalk for a little over a mile.  Carry on.

Around mile 11, I was wondering why I didn't just sign up for the half.  Those miles had seemed to go by relatively quickly, and in just 2.1 miles, I could have been drinking beers and jamming with the Dublin 5.  Oh well.  15.2 to go.  Carry on.

Just before the halfway point, I saw the Raftery/Horbal cheering party for the second time in the race.  They were holding hilarious signs that I will try to get pics of and share with you at some point.  Apparently, in the 8 or so miles between then and when I saw them first, they were able to eat brunch at Waterman's.  Jealous.  I got a few high fives from them, which gave me the mojo I needed to face the second half of this beast of a race.  Carry on.

At around mile 14 heading north on Atlantic, the leaders were starting to fly south to the finish.  I think normally this would be a bit disheartening, knowing how much distance I still had to cover to get where they were, but they were passing people who were still walking the half marathon course...people who had an hour and a half and a 13.1 mile head start, so I didn't feel so bad about the position I was in!  Carry on.

Somewhere around mile 16, I realized my left leg was no longer hurting.  At all.  Earlier, I had felt the pain move from the IT band to the patellar tendon, then up in my left hip instead.  Either the cold wind I had been running into for 10 miles had numbed it all, or it simply needed 16 friggin' miles to work itself loose.  Either way, I was ecstatic.  Carry on.  

Making the turn onto Shore Drive was such a relief.  We were sheltered from the wind for a few miles, and I could almost taste the home stretch coming.  A DJ along the course fittingly played Kanye's "Stronger" as I passed him, and I, along with several others ahead of me, clapped and fist pumped for his choice in songs.  Carry on.

The stretch of Shore Drive before turning onto Fort Story was a lot longer than I remembered it being.  I was starting to get passed by a number of people, but I didn't care.  I was running my own race and remembered the advice I was given during the 20 miler...think of 20 miles as being halfway there, and make sure you have enough left in your tank when you hit 20.  After turning onto the base, I started feeling a bit wall-ish.  My mind wasn't all that clear, and my legs felt tired.  Not a good time to head back into the wind, which had picked up to a steady 20 mph, with gusts around 30 mph coming right off the Chesapeake Bay and into my face.  Even my hands were exhausted...I had the hardest time opening my fourth and final GU because my left fingers couldn't seem to hold it tightly enough to rip the top off.   I felt an overwhelming desire to walk, but told myself I had to make it to 20 miles before I could.  I had run 20 before, I had to do it again.  I hit 20 and didn't feel any worse, so I told myself to get to 21 before walking.  I was feeling hungry...the kind of hunger that a packet of GU just can't satiate...and like a desert oasis, there were the Marines handing out snacks.  I grabbed half a banana from a huge man in camo and scarfed it down.  I passed a few photographers at that point, so I'm sure there will be pictures surfacing of me with a half eaten GU in one hand and a banana in the other.  Awesome.  Carry on.

I don't know if it was the banana kicking in or the sight of the gate leaving Fort Story that did it, but by mile 21, I was feeling refreshed.  I got really excited around mile 23, feeling the wind at my back and counting down the numbered streets along Atlantic Avenue.  I grabbed a small cup of jelly beans from a lovely north end resident at mile 24, and she told me just 2.2 to go.  I could have shrieked with joy.  At mile 25, the race clock said 3:44, and barring disaster in the next 1.2, I was going to finish this thing in under 4 hours.  I saw a few guys head over to the side of the road to work out cramps, and I tried to offer them some encouragement while at the same time praying the running gods didn't have the same fate in store for me.  The final turn onto the boardwalk at 37th Street met me with another strong gust of wind, but the crowd was going nuts, the cowbells were ringing, and the flags leading up to the finish were flapping in the "breeze."  I locked eyes with a spectator who I think was Bob, the guy I ran most of my 20 miler with a few weeks ago.  I wanted so badly to make him proud.  Carry on.  

The sight of the 26 mile flag was glorious.  But not quite as glorious as seeing my parents and my girls standing right near it.  I waved frantically, hoping my dad would see me in time to get the girls' attention.  He did even better, and was able to capture a little video footage as I passed:

Just a few yards shy of the finish, I heard my neighbor Michelle screaming my name.  I'm sure her poor kids hate me for being the reason they were out in the cold wind, but it was so great to have them there.  I crossed the finish line and felt happy.  Just happy.  I thought I'd be a puddle of emotions, but happiness reigned.  I made my way down the chute, collecting bananas, Gatorade, cookies, pretzels, and my huge honkin' medal:



I could barely speak to thank the volunteers who congratulated me, but I'm hoping my smile showed them how grateful I was for them.  As I posed for the post race pics, the photographer asked how I felt.  I had no words to answer her with.  I was exhausted and hurting and could barely speak, but I felt incredible.  It was such a bizzarre feeling.  I continued down the boardwalk to collect my dry gear from the truck.  As I approached, I managed to drop a few of my goodies onto the ground.  In that instant, I found another way that this race was like pregnancy...the thought of bending down to pick my snacks up off the floor was almost too much to bear.  I sighed heavily, and made my way down, thankful to have gotten back up as well.  Carry on.

I found Ryan stretching beside his dry gear truck and was reunited with the rest of my family shortly after that.  

It meant so much to me to have them there - and at mile 26, no less - to watch their parents do something that was challenging and down right scary.  I know they don't understand the enormity of what we did, but I hope they will someday.  Somehow, we made it across the finish line, despite illness (our own, but more importantly Ryan's mother's), injury, and every curve ball Mother Nature threw our way.  


Ready to get warmed up and out of the wind, I dipped into the changing tent to put on some cozy pants and a jacket.  From there, we hit the post-race party for some hot Murphy's Irish stew and cold Yuengling beer:



I spotted Bart Yasso nearby, chased him down and gave him a big hug.  He seemed genuinely excited for me, and I thanked him for the advice he gave me just two days before to enjoy this experience.  The enjoyment continued as we listened to a few 80s hits from the Deloreans together (that's Bart in blue on the left):

Ryan and I finished our second bowl of Irish stew and decided to head back home.  Then it hit us:

Those six blocks felt like 60, but we made it back to the car and were on our way home.  We made a pit stop at the grocery store to stock up on essentials:

All in all, it was an incredible experience.  I am incredibly thankful to everyone who has offered support and encouragement throughout the past 16 weeks, and especially those who braved the elements to come out and cheer for us yesterday.  You truly kept me going when I needed it most.  The million dollar question...will I run another marathon?  I can't definitively say yes, but I can't say no either.  We'll find out in time.  Until then, I'll just have to carry on.