Alas, the day arrived: the day that I would run my first marathon. I was not running it with any friends, family, or family friends... just myself. I spent about seven months training for it, and most of my long runs did not turn out so well. I successfully ran only one out of four or five 20-mile runs. Was I a little nervous? Yeah. I was.
I woke up around 7 a.m. with a rush of nerves and excitement. For a while there was not much anxiety as I had just woken up. Sure enough, I made myself get eight to nine hours of sleep the night before. For dinner I ate an entire box of Safeway-brand White Cheddar pasta. Yeah, it was delicious alright. Tons of protein, tons of carbs. That's the way to do it before a run; especially a marathon.
My mom, little brother, and my friend David all suffered with me and got up early to take me to my race. We got there a while before the race started, which gave me plenty of time to be nervous. The adrenaline certainly started kicking in; with it, I really had to go to the bathroom. For your sake, I will leave it at that.
My CamelPak was a little too full, so before the race I dumped out about half of the water/electrolyte drink mix that I'd put in there. The Pak was probably meant for hiking, so it held a significant amount of water. The only thing I did forget before the race was to turn on my GPS watch. As it turned out, I'm glad I didn't know what my mileage was during the race. That would have been pure torture. If you've ever run a marathon or gone on long runs, you know exactly what I mean.
8 a.m. BANG! The gun went off, and hundreds of runners took off: some for the half-marathon, some for the full. There's definitely a sense of pride when you're one of the runners running the full marathon. Running a half-marathon is a feat in and of itself, but I could help but think, "Half-marathon? Pssshhh... pansies." Said in a light-hearted manner, of course.
With my GPS watch not telling me anything but the time, I wasn't sure how to pace myself. Taking the advice that I had been given prior to the race, I reminded myself to keep my pace slow and steady. It'd pay off at mile 20. Around the 40-minute mark, I passed the 10k turnaround (for those of you bad at miles-kilos conversions, I was 3.1 miles in). Computing the math in my head, this was extremely slower than I had anticipated. Runners were passing me left and right, but again I reminded myself that it would pay off later.
50 minutes into the race, I tripped on a tree root. "Are you okay?" a couple girl runners asked me from behind. "Yeah, I'm alright, thanks," I responded. "You're not having fun unless you trip!" I added. Funny thing is, I was actually somewhat serious.
Yes, my marathon was a trail run. Lots of elevation changes, lots of roots, and lots of runners on a decently narrow trail. It definitely makes for a good time. Although the weather was overcast when the race started, the clouds cleared and the sun came out. The trees provided perfect cover from the sun, making the temperature perfect for a race.
An hour into the race, the first half-marathoner passed me coming the other direction. In all honesty, I was excited to get past the half-marathon turnaround; that way it "weeded out" the half-marathoners from the full marathoners. I wanted to see who was as crazy as I was in running a full marathon.
An hour and 20 minutes in, I arrived at the first aid station. They had water, an electrolyte drink, pretzels, M&Ms, Goldfish, and anything else salty and sugary that a runner would need. They even had Coca-Cola, which I'd found kind of strange. Fortunately I didn't need too much at the rest station as I'd been carrying Clif Shot Bloks with me to provide me energy. After a few minutes of resting at the aid station, I took of again--venturing into the daunting second quarter of the race.
Along the way I found myself conversing with people; nothing makes a marathon easier than running with people in the same predicament (or future, depending on who you are) as you are. Two hours into the marathon, the first marathoner passed me coming the other way. Yeah. He was going fast. Being my first marathon, my goal was just to finish, so this pro-athlete didn't intimidate me one bit.
Speaking of meeting all sorts of nice people, two hours and 15 minutes into the marathon I met these older women from California. I know what you're thinking--and no, it wasn't like that. Nice try though. ;) We ran together all the way until we reached the second aid station, which was a gift sent from Heaven. Running 13.1 miles had never felt so long! Being two hours and 35 minutes into the race, I was a little worried about my time. Had the marathon been completely flat I would have expected to finish in three and a half to four hours. I had to remind myself that this marathon wasn't easy. A) It was a trail run, and B) it had quite a bit of incline.
At the second aid station I met this lady with a British accent. I talked with her for a while until I eventually sped up and left her in the dust (okay, so it wasn't that intense, but just roll with it). The marathon probably would not have been so spectacular if it weren't for all of the great scenery; all of the trees, streams, and critters made it an incredible run to go on. Not being able to anticipate where the trail was going to go (as it was obviously my first time running the course), I never lost focus as to where I was running. For the long runs during my training, I'd run the same loop that crossed a couple of bridges and went around the river, showing me nothing but the same old houses and deserty terrain. Talk about boring.
Three hours and 40 minutes in, the marathon started taking its toll on me. Every bit of incline became a little more dreadful, and I started losing my focus a little bit. Fortunately I was able to push the negative thoughts aside, reminding myself to enjoy the race for what it was, which included me tripping on yet another tree root. Like I said before, there'd be no fun in running a race if you didn't get a little beaten up.
Ten minutes later I arrived at the three-quarters mark, back at the first aid station (you ran 13.1 miles out along the trail, then re-traced that 13.1 miles back to the start). Hearing the volunteer say, "You're almost there! Only about six more miles to go!" was one of the best things I had heard all day. And that's when it happened. A phenomenon known as "Runner's High" began to set in, and I'd gotten the boost I needed to finish the race strong. After a short break, I took off for the last time before reaching the finish line. Nothing was going to stop me.
Unfortunately, my body did try to stop me. Four hours and 10 minutes in, I felt an excruciating cramp in my left hamstring. I slowed down and walked a few feet before realizing that going slower only made the cramp worse; so I picked up the pace and pushed through it. To my delight, the cramp eventually went away.
Four hours and 15 minutes in, I reached the 10k turnaround for the last time. Only 3.1 miles to go. I'd heard it said that the last three miles are as tough as the first 20, and I found that to be just about true. Three miles have never felt so long in my entire life. Fortunately, the trail was mostly downhill from there. Ten minutes after passing the 10k turnaround, my right hamstring cramped up just as excruciating as the first had. I yelled out in pain with a few hikers stopped on the side of the trail observing a sign, probably about the wildlife found on the trail. They looked at me slightly funny, but I didn't care. I had a race to finish.
As I mentioned earlier, I was flying the last six miles. I passed so many people, and other than a couple of cramps, I felt great in both body and mind. The last mile was one of the most intense. It got pretty steep and rocky at points. I'm surprised I didn't trip and biff it with how fast I was going. With three-quarters of a mile left, I found my Grandpa Ron and Uncle Scott on the side of the trail cheering me on. My Uncle Scott was crazy enough to run after me for the last three-quarters of a mile... in sandals. It definitely helped me to push myself; I wasn't going to let him catch me without a fight.
Four hours and fifty-three minutes into the race, I finally finished. I'd thought that I was going to cry once I reached the finish line, but to my surprise, I didn't. I felt nothing but an immense amount of joy and pride. I thanked God for giving me the strength and ability to complete the marathon, and I was proud to check that off my bucket list.
I didn't talk much for a while after my race, but I did respond to my mom's question:
"How do you feel?" she asked. My response: "Frickin' awesome!" Without a doubt, that was exactly how I'd felt. Frickin' awesome.
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So there it is. The story of my first marathon. During my training, I told myself that I was never going to do another marathon after this one. To my surprise, the Wildwood Trail Run birthed a new addiction within me: trail races. In my opinion, they are way better than road races; they're more fun, more intriguing, and more challenging.
Am I going to run another marathon? You may ask. Let me answer by telling you this: heck yeah, I am! Running my first marathon was one of the most fun and incredible experiences I have ever had. I can hear her voice now, calling my name. I know without a shadow of a doubt, that am I going to run one again.
Am I insane?
Of course I am. After all... I am a runner.
Great job! You DA MAN!
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