Marathon

Hooray! Marathon's over...and I've caught the bug, because my sis-in-law and I are already making plans and strategizing on how to prepare for our next one... Here's how it went:

I woke up 20 minutes before my very early alarm was set and couldn't go back to sleep, but I laid (lay? can't remember) there anyway. Finally, I got up and got dressed, ate a banana, kissed my sleeping sweetheart, and left. There was a minor setback in getting everyone to the bus-loading park in one piece, but it all worked out in the end. Finally, the five of us (me, my two sis-in-laws, Jordan [one's husband], and Jayme [one's friend]) were all on the bus to head up the canyon. It seemed like a long drive, but it was uphill in the bus, so that rules.

We got off the bus and met intensely long lines at about 50 HandiHuts, so we joined one line. Of course it was the slowest, and the air was freezing, but about 20-25 minutes later, our needs were taken care of and we headed down a small hill to near the start. I rubbed some more Aquaphor (like vaseline) between my problematic toes, shed my sweats, and eagerly awaited the start of the race so I could start warming my body up. Plus, I just wanted to get started anyway--the sooner I started, the sooner I could be done! Finally, the starting gun went off and startled us all. We were far enough back (in the 4:31-5:00 section) that we crossed the starting line about 30-40 seconds after the starting gun. On our way!

Highlights:

-Almost all of the HandiHuts had someone's name permanently listed on the bottom. Not a distinguishing moment I'll aspire to, but whatever. Ours was named "Tiny," which, compared to the stench it emitted, was pretty ironic. Hold-breath-in-and-out.

-One guy was doing tai chi (or something else zen-like) on the hill before the start. I kind of laughed at him at first, then caught myself. Hey, whatever works for him--I then sent mental well-wishes and positive vibes his way. I hope he caught them.

-Some people wore big black garbage sacks, poncho-style, at the start. I'm not sure why; it wasn't rainy or anything, but maybe it helped them stay warm? But their running shorts were usually too short to show, so they looked like those naked-guys-in-a-barrel.

-There were so many different types of people; I was fascinated by watching them all. One stooped over little old man (in his 70s) was about 5 feet tall, if that, and he rocked it. Inspiring. Some people were obviously hard core; others were like me, wearing (gasp) a cotton tank top that happened to be clean. It was great.

-After we'd started running, some lady came jogging up to us (we had lost Michelle and her friend Jayme at the start; there were mobs of people, 1,900+, so it was just Katrina, Jordan, and me) and pointed at me, "Where are your gloves?!" She then proceeded to run off in front of us, shaking her head and muttering quite loudly, "You people. How can you think of running without gloves?..." True, it was chilly, but I was confused--I had my hands tucked into the end of my long-sleeve t-shirt, so how did she know I wasn't wearing gloves? And why in the world did she care enough to point at me? It made us all laugh.

-I had an MP3 player my brother-in-law Jeremy had let me borrow. I hadn't trained with any music or anything, but I thought I might need a pick-me-up and a distraction if my blisters started giving me trouble. I found, however, that I didn't even want to miss a moment of it all--I loved hearing people's conversations, hearing the loud silence as we all focused on getting up an incline, looking at the beautiful canyon, etc. So I ran, music-free, for the first 23 miles, and thoroughly enjoyed every minute. That little MP3 box saved my life there at the end, though.

-Some guy from a SLC-based social running club (called Loco-Motion) was super nice. He also breathed, quite literally, like a train. He passed us numerous times (we could never figure out how, because we didn't ever remember passing him--quite the mystery), and we LOVED hearing him come up behind us with his loud train-breathing. Hoo-hoo-heeeee, or something. It was so great.

-We loved the aid stations every 2-ish miles; it seemed to make the miles fly by. Katrina and I found ourselves sometimes thinking we were at a certain mile, only to find out we were further than that. (Which, by the way, is an exhilarating way to be wrong.) I don't like sports drinks, but I forced myself to take some Gatorade at every third station; water at all the others. Except at the end, when all I wanted was water.

-I love GU!

-There were two ladies wearing matching orange shirts and black shorts. Some guy behind us dubbed them the "pumpkin sisters." Hah!

-There were also two other ladies, about my age, who had bright pink-and-white-polka-dot bows in their hair, over their ponytail elastics. Their pace was solid and seemed to match ours, so we stuck about 20 yards behind them for miles. They were awesome unknowing pacers.

-Paul and the kids met up with us to cheer us on four times between miles 16 and the end. Some of Paul's family cheered us on a strategic spots, too. Those were highlights beyond anything--they kept me going.

-We were all feeling surprisingly great for about 21 miles. It was a pretty euphoric feeling, to have expected the very worst but to still be feeling so good! Katrina started to have some leg cramps, so we all welcomed a short walk and did a little walk-run combination for a mile or two. Katrina and Jordan were so nice; they could tell I was feeling pretty good, so they urged me to go on ahead. After a while, I did.

Those last few miles are like some sort of dream--I felt so good, it's hard to describe because it doesn't make any sense. I was seeing people struggling, and I thought I should be hurting and stopping to walk or something, but I felt great, so I just kept going. I'd watch up ahead to focus on someone, then slowly work my way up to them until I passed them. It was kind of like a game, which made things more interesting and let me run harder (in addition to the radio I flipped on at Mile 23--thanks, Jer!!!). I got passed by one person between Mile 22 and the end, and I met up with the little old 70+ year old man, who'd left us in the dust from the start. Even as I reflect back, I wonder how it was that I felt that good...I thought the end was supposed to be grueling, but for some wonderful reason, it wasn't. Hard, yes, and I was tired, but it was the same tiredness that I feel any time I go running.

I had to fight back tears three different times during the race (you know, to stay hydrated). One was at Mile 14, coming out of the canyon, and seeing all those people there to cheer us on (that was the first time spectators could meet up with us). It was just overwhelming. Then when I saw Paul, I nearly cried of happiness. Love him, love my babies. Then when I was almost finished...there's something magical about that finish line. Final time: 3:52, which ends up being just slightly under a 9-minute-mile pace. I had just hoped to beat 5 hours, so I was happy.

I loved it. I loved this race. I want to do a million more, just because it feels so great. (Well, it doesn't feel that great now...sooooo sore...I'm like a gimp hobbling around, and you can just forget about stairs.) And only got two blisters (which I didn't feel at all while running), on the opposite foot from the one I've been having troubles with. Oh, and this is gross: after the race, I had a little more time to examine myself, and I looked down...blood all over the outside mesh covering the toe of my right shoe that had come from a small cut on my toe. From the INSIDE of my shoe! Sick. Dah well.

Glorious.

p.s.: I just realized I forgot to bring the camera downstairs, with pics that Paul took...but there is no way I'm making the trek upstairs and right back down again just to get the camera. I got this one from a friend via email, so it'll have to do for now. More will come later.