I Am A Marathoner | Indianapolis Monumental Marathon Recap

Settle in, my friends, and grab a cup of coffee, a beer, or some hot chocolate.  This is going to get lengthy, but I’m not sorry about that.  I plan on sparing no detail as I recount this experience.

In the weeks leading up to the race, the Universe threw these things at me: 1) A foot strain three weeks before.  2) A trip and fall with skinned up hands and knees ten days before.  3) The start of a cold which I squashed by leaving work early the Tuesday before and getting a couple of extra hours of sleep.  Despite these set-backs, I never once listened to what the Universe was trying to tell me.  I was ready for this.  I had done the training and put in the time.  I wasn’t about to give up.

Thursday

I got great sleep on Wednesday night.  I volunteered to help with the expo set-up on Thursday afternoon.  IMM gives Back on My Feet bibs for our resident members to run the full, half or 5K.  In return, we provide volunteers to work one of the water stops.  Since I was running, I figured helping out with the expo was the least I could do.  I rolled posters and stuffed bags for two hours, then picked up my bib.  I wandered around the expo looking for a belt to hold my Sports Beans and Chomps.  I stopped at the BoMF booth and chatted with Lindsey, our Director of Communications, about goals, nerves, and where we expected to see our husbands along the course.  She suggested that Michael just run the race too since he’d done some long runs with me and my slower pace would be easier for him. I shared the idea with him, but wasn’t sure how excited he was about that.  It did make me a little nervous because he hadn’t done the same training I had done (no twenty-mile run), and I didn’t want him to get injured.  This would also be his first race of any significant distance.

Friday

I slept great Thursday, too.  While we were getting ready for work, we talked a bit about what would happen if he decided to run with me.  I made it clear, though, that if something happened, I would leave him in order to try to hit my goal.  And if that happened, I would feel bad.  I wasn’t sure if there would be any marathon spots available by the afternoon.  The race was expected to sell out with people who had planned to run NYC coming here instead (and that was before the race was ultimately canceled).  By mid-morning, he had filled out the registration form, and wanted to know if I could meet him downtown later in the afternoon.  By the time I got down there, he was registered and we were going to run a marathon together.  The nerves that had settled in earlier in the day eased up a little.  We spent Friday night eating homemade pasta, watching The Campaign, and I finished up my playlist.  I set out my clothes, still not sure whether to wear shorts or capris, and we were in bed by a little after 10.  I set two alarm clocks – one for 4:52 AM (8 minute snooze) and one for 5:15 AM.  Why 4:52?

Marathon Day

Typically I don’t sleep very well the night before a race, but I actually had decent sleep.  I woke up more nervous than I’d been all week, and more so than before any other race, even my first half.  The first thing I noticed when I got up was that my lips felt really dry.  I didn’t take that as a good sign, even though I felt like I had done a good job hydrating through the week.  I made my breakfast and drank more water.  My nerves were out of control.  We were out the door before 7.  We snagged our usual parking spot and headed to the start line.  It was cold, and I just wanted to get running.

We met up with all of the Back on My Feet teams around 7:30 to say the Serenity Prayer. I tried to say the first line and found myself all choked up.  We say this prayer before and after every run.  Never before had I experienced such a reaction.  But Saturday was different.  We were all standing there together, getting ready to accomplish things we’d never before even dreamed we could accomplish.  My emotions got the best of me.  I was able to get it together before the tears came, and we went over to tell our teammate Ed good luck as he got ready to run his first marathon, too.

We dropped our bag off at gear check, and I reluctantly took off my outer layers.  We were halfway to the Westin for a last pit stop when I realized I’d left my iPod in the bag I just checked.  Seriously?  I spent like 5 hours on that playlist.  I wasn’t about to run without that.  I turned around and fought my way through all the people heading in the opposite direction.  I got the iPod, got to the Westin, and we made it back to the start line podium in time to help lead all of the runners in the Serenity Prayer.  I was able to keep it together that time.  We walked through the starting corrals, trying to make our way back to the 9:00 pace group.  After being at a complete standstill for a couple of minutes, we decided to just stay where we were (next to the 8:24 pace group) and just walk to the start line, start slowly, and let the crowd thin out.  While it was quite crowded, I appreciated the body heat being generated by everyone being so close together.  This close to the start of the race, I finally felt calm.

Without much of an announcement, we saw the runners at the front start moving, and we got ready to go.  As we headed east on Washington street, the sun was just coming up and we were looking at a beautiful sunrise.  Again, I got all choked up.  This happens at the start of every race, but this race was more significant.  I was going to run a marathon with my husband by my side.  Luckily (or not), we had to start dodging people early on, so that took my mind off the emotions.  I need not have worried about being near the faster pace group, because we passed someone walking before we had even gone a block.

I felt great, and while I knew most of that was due to adrenaline, I found it really hard to hold myself back.  I even had enough energy to talk.  I don’t usually race with anyone, so this was new to me.  We turned onto Capitol, ran past Lucas Oil, and I saw a rainbow to the west right at Mile 1 (or at least the marker for Mile 1.  My Garmin went off a bit before the marker, but I didn’t think too much of it).  We made it to Mile 2, and as we ran under the parking garage on Virginia, I lost satellite reception for a few seconds.  It didn’t seem to make much difference though, as the Mile 3 alert went off the same distance before the marker.  I chalked the discrepancy up to satellite interference from the tall buildings and weaving around people.

Early on my pace was good – I had a few quick miles thrown in (like 8:51 for Mile 3), but overall I was pretty consistent.  I felt confident that I would meet and likely beat my goal.  When we got on Mass Ave, it seemed like the cloud cover was starting to break up.  I was concerned that I was going to be over-dressed but there wasn’t much to do about it then.

My plan was to stop for water whenever I felt I needed it, start taking Chomps/Beans at Mile 5, and then one every 2-2.5 miles after that.  I think my first water stop was around mile 5.  I didn’t feel thirsty, and wanted to avoid any signs of dehydration.  It was around this time that I saw one of my favorite signs of the day: “You are Crazy; We are Lazy.”  I’ll give you that runners might be a little crazy, but anyone willing to get up early on a Saturday and stand in the cold cheering for friends and strangers alike is not lazy.

There was a lot of crowd support and entertainment during those first few miles (including the Dirty Thirty Trio on Central and a lone musician playing on his front lawn on Fall Creek).  You couldn’t help but smile as you passed little kids holding out their hands to hi-five everyone that went by.  Around Mile 6, we found ourselves next to some of the 3:55 pace group.  We settled in there for a few miles, but ended up losing them after a water or fuel stop.  I wasn’t too concerned because I still felt good.

We split off from the half-marathoners just before Mile 8, and we continued on down Fall Creek.  It started to sleet a bit, but stopped within a few minutes.  Traffic was backed up due to the runners still crossing down by Delaware, and I will never forget this woman in a black pick-up truck cheering everyone on as she sat there waiting.

We turned towards the fair grounds and was excited that we were approaching our neighborhood and the streets that I run on nearly every day.  While I usually like the change of scenery provided by a race course, I felt that the familiarity of the course would serve me will for this first marathon.  I also knew we would have at least one cheerleader looking for us.

Just before Mile 11, we passed our street.  I didn’t even think about going home.  Just past Mile 11, our friends Lisa and Jane were on one side of the street, while our friends Steve, Lizzie and their dog Story were on the other side of the street. I didn’t realize how much I was looking forward to seeing familiar faces until they were there in front of me.

As we reached the mid-point of the race, I was thrilled with my pace.  Then I started to notice that my Garmin was going off well before we came to the actual mile marker.  I was hopeful that the course would right itself, and we would be back on track within a few miles.  Looking back on it now, I think that impacted my mental game.

We hit the timing mats for 13.1, and I was at 1:59 and some change.  I was right on pace, so I tried not to worry about the mileage discrepancy.  As you can see from the breakdown above, things started to fall apart at Mile 15.  I don’t know why exactly.  I’d like to blame it on the uphill stretch up Meridian, or the fact that it started raining around Mile 16, or the blisters I could feel on my little toes, but I don’t think that was any of it. I honestly think it was all mental.  I did contemplate turning at 49th and heading home, but knew that my mom was waiting for us at the finish line.

I got stuck behind a group that I couldn’t pass as we made our way up Meridian.  I finally got past them once we turned towards Butler.  At this point, I felt like I could use a bathroom break (I had long before decided that this would not be a race that required peeing my pants).  We made it to the art museum, and there was an enthusiastic group of IPS (I think) students cheering us on and working the water stop.  We exited the IMA grounds and tucked off the side of 38th were two unoccupied port-o-potties.  I hesitated, thinking that I didn’t have to go THAT bad, did I really want to stop when I was still within my goal, and how quickly could I actually pee?  By the time all of this went through my head, the opportunity had passed.

Just past Mile 20, the 4:00 pace group caught up to me – the official pace group, the one with the sign on a stick and everything.  I felt encouraged.  All I needed to do was stay with them for six more miles.  That lasted for like a mile.  They passed me, and I stopped for one of my last Chomps.  Up until this point, Michael and I had been basically right next to each other, with each of us doing our own thing.  Before this last stop he had pulled away from me, and I didn’t want to waste energy weaving in and out of people to catch him.  He saw that I had stopped, so I was able to catch up to him.

Between Miles 21 and 22, it started to sleet/hail.  It was miserable.  My feet hurt, I was exhausted, and I wasn’t sure that I was going to be able to finish without walking (other than for water stops and one last fuel stop).  I did not want to walk.  I put my head down and kept going.  After a mile or so, the sleet turned to rain.  Turns out, the sleet was preferable.  Once it turned to rain, my feet got wet which did not help my blisters.  I think all of this helped me forget about my need to go to the bathroom because I didn’t think about that again.

It was about Mile 23 that I became certain I was not going to hit my goal.  I had expected to reach Mile 23 and be able to turn out some quick miles. In reality, my legs felt like lead.  As you can see from above, Mile 24 was my slowest mile, and at a pace that was no where on my pace strategy spreadsheet.  I just hoped I would have something to give for the last half mile.

Around Mile 25, I saw a not-funny sign taped on a pole that said “I bet this seemed like a good idea 4 months ago, he he he.”  Really not funny.  Perhaps the sign-maker knew it wasn’t funny since he or she was not brave enough to stand on the sidewalk taunting runners in person.

I have run the Monumental Half before, and I know how hard those miles down Meridian are.  You can see the Circle, but you still have two miles to go, and it doesn’t seem to get any closer.  I focused on the ground in front of me, and tried to ignore the fact that my Garmin said we were at 26 miles before we even got to New York.

When we finally got to New York, West Street never looked so far away.  I kicked it into gear anyway and pushed myself as hard as I could.  We turned onto West side by side and started sprinting (I use the term loosely).  We crossed together at 4:05:13, five minutes off my goal.

As we gathered our post-race goodies (very disappointed that they were out of chocolate milk), I was expecting some noticeable shift in life, a dividing line between pre-marathon and post-marathon.  It didn’t come.  We walked over to the results tent as I scanned the crowd for my mom.  We found her after we stretched, and she had gotten video of us crossing the finish.  Surprisingly, we didn’t look like we were about to die.

We hit the bathroom, got some coffee, and headed back to the finish line to wait for Ed.  He came around the final corner with a huge smile on his face, hand in hand with two other teammates.  I turned and watched as he crossed the finish line, and at that moment I felt a change.  Watching him cross the finish line made what we had just accomplished more tangible.  And I got all choked up, AGAIN.  Only this time, as we made our way through the people to congratulate Ed, I didn’t dare try to talk because I knew I would cry.

Closing Thoughts

We hobbled around most of the rest of the weekend.  My feet hurt worse than I expected.  I was not nearly as hungry as I expected.  Even though I did all the training, it was harder than I thought it would be (and not just the last six miles).  Despite that fact I was able to get through the race by telling myself that I could take a week off and didn’t have to run any double-digit runs for a long time, I’m ready to run again.  Despite the fact that I told myself during the race that I didn’t have to (and probably wouldn’t) run a marathon again, I’m already thinking about what I should run next fall. I know for certain that I could not have finished without walking a significant distance if Michael hadn’t been by my side.  I’ll have to figure out a different strategy for the next race because I’m pretty sure I’ve created a racing monster. Despite a missed goal, rain, and sleet, I don’t think I could have asked for a better first marathon.

The Last Long Run

(OR Less than One Week to Go)

(OR What Have I Gotten Myself Into?!)

I really can’t believe the race is just five sleeps away.  Five!  I started my training program 19 weeks ago.  November 3rd seemed like a lifetime away.  And now it’s nearly here.  I keep alternating between feeling nervous but prepared, and scared out of my mind.  Other than a few off weeks early on, I stuck to my training program – speed work and all.  If something goes terribly awry on Saturday, it won’t be for lack of physical preparation.  No, my biggest fear is self-doubt, but there’s no sense in dwelling on that now.

After my 16 mile run last weekend, my foot felt fine.  By Tuesday, I had no pain or discomfort.  Doesn’t that sound like the perfect time to take a fall and scrape up your hands and knees?  No?  Well, that’s what happened Wednesday morning.  We were downtown running with our Back on My Feet team, and we were just a couple of blocks from the end of the run.  It was still dark out, and there is temporary fencing at almost every corner along Pennsylvania.  I didn’t see the base of the fencing covered in leaves.  My toe hit the metal, and I was on the ground before I even knew I was falling.  Aside from some pretty good scabs (the likes of which I haven’t had since I fell off my bike when I was 9 or 10), I really wasn’t hurt.  Just my pride (seriously, is there anything worse than falling flat on your face?  At least I was at the back of the group).

On Thursday I had a good, fast tempo run, despite a sore knee.  My schedule originally called for a last “long” run of 8 miles.  That just didn’t seem long enough, so I planned for 12 on Sunday.  I decided I would run part of the race course, including the stretch of Meridian from Kessler to 46th.  For the most part, I will agree with the description that the Indianapolis Monumental Marathon is a flat course.  Comparatively speaking, it undoubtedly is.  But that’s not to say there aren’t some decent hills to tackle.  As we crossed Westfield on Sunday, and I looked up and saw what looked like a giant slide in front of me, I was glad I wasn’t seeing that view for the first time at mile 15 or so of the race.

When we started Sunday, it was pretty brisk even though we didn’t leave until 8:45 or so.  The cool temperatures made it easy to run quickly, and early on I settled into a 9 minute or faster pace.  Without much effort, I kept picking it up.  I was certain I would hit a wall, but let my legs go.  Soon, I was below 8:30, and I realized that I probably did not push myself hard enough during these last 19 weeks.  It’s too late now to do anything about that, so I can only focus on doing the best that I can.

Right now, my biggest concern is what to wear.  With the hurricane hitting the east coast, I know that a lot can change between now and Saturday.  I have 4 different outfits picked out, and I think it will ultimately be a morning-of call.

I need to sit down and work on my playlist.  (Do you have a favorite motivating race song? Leave me a comment with your suggestions!)  I haven’t been listening to music lately during training runs, but it’s a necessity when running by myself with only my thoughts for 4 (or less!) hours.  However, if something were to happen to my iPod, I feel confident that I would be able to get through it.  Now, if my Garmin died, that would be another story!  (I plan on taking a back up watch because I would NOT be able to run watch-less).

As I finish this, I feel surprisingly calm.  I keep picturing myself running the course, and crossing the finish line under my goal time.  I also sometimes envision what it would be like to cross the finish in 3:40 (the time I would need to qualify for Boston).  I know – it’s a long shot, but a girl can dream!

2-0

The number 20 can represent any number of things.  A birthday.  The number of years you’ve been married.  The number of pounds you needed to lose when you started running again two and half years ago.  At that time it certainly wasn’t the number of miles I ever considered being capable of (or wanting to) run.  But here I sit, sore, yet proud, of accomplishing that goal this morning.

I left the house around 7:30, a bit later than I wanted, but at least the sun was up.  The weather was perfect.  Crisp, but sunny.  I ran two miles around the neighborhood and headed over to Butler.  As my long runs have gotten longer, I try to add my distance into the middle of the run, as opposed to just running farther north on the Monon (mainly because I hate running north of 96th Street).  I turned around at the 38th Street bridge, hoping that I wouldn’t have to go much farther north than 91st Street.

I’ve been testing out various types of gels over the last few weeks, and have decided that I prefer Chomps and Sport Beans to the actual gels.  Last week I took something every 5 miles, but felt like I ran out of energy long before it was time to take the next dose.  And it seemed to take longer to feel the boost (also 4 Chomps is a lot to stuff in your face at one time).  I decided I would try eating a couple of Chomps every two and a half miles.  It seemed to work out OK.

I felt pretty good, but at mile 8 my legs started to feel tired.  I wasn’t expecting that until mile 12 or so.  I hit the Monon around mile 9.5, and immediately got behind this guy that did not want me to pass him.  I did anyway, but at 10 miles stopped for some Chomps.  He passed me, I started back up, caught up to him, and again he kept pushing over to the middle of the path while looking over his shoulder.  Seriously?  That continued all the way to 96th.  I met my husband just south of 91st, he turned around, and we continued to the turnaround point, took a bathroom break, and headed towards home with about 6.5 miles to go.

At mile 16, with only 4 miles to go, I started wondering what my mental state would be at mile 16 in the race, knowing that I had 1o more miles to go.  Then I realized I (hopefully) wouldn’t be thinking in those terms at only 16 miles.  I have always managed to make it through long runs by not focusing on how many miles down/how many miles to go.  Since it has to be done, the best thing is to focus only on putting one foot in front of the other.  But I felt pretty good at 16 miles, and the thought of another ten miles wasn’t that daunting.

But then I hit mile 18, and I wasn’t sure I would even be able to finish the last two miles without walking.  I felt like I’d hit a wall, and my legs felt like lead.  I was certain I was running over a 10 minute pace.  I felt slow.  But when I looked at my watch, I was under 9 minutes.    Then I started to feel stronger.  So on we pushed.  When I heard the alert at 19 miles, all I could think about was mentally ticking off tenth of a mile increments.  I knew I would hit twenty miles before we made it back home, and I wasn’t sure yet if I would run the rest of the way home or walk.

When I hit twenty, I decided it best to walk home.  I was surprised at how much every part of my body hurt when I stopped.  Everything was sore, and I wondered how I would ever keep going for another six miles (I’m still not sure, to be quite honest).  I thought the finish would be a bit more emotional.  I would not have been surprised if I had shed a tear or two.  But I didn’t.  I just felt amazing.  Exhausted and in pain, but amazing.  And still able to smile (as Pete jumped at me to photobomb with his paws).

I stretched and thought about the run, and what I need to do to keep things more consistent.  I was happy that my pace was faster than last week, but was hoping for closer to 9:15.  I am concerned about starting out too fast during the race, and I have allowed myself to go as slow as I want at the beginning of the long runs.  I need to work on gradually increasing my pace each mile.  Good thing I have another 20 mile run in two weeks.

I topped off the run with some chocolate milk and donuts.  It was the perfect reward.  And I am so ready to sleep soundly tonight.

I’m Going To Be A Marathoner

Source: monumentalmarathon.com

The first time I participated in a 5K, one of my friends tried to get me to run with the chipped runners.  She told me I only had to run a 9 minute pace.  I looked at her like she was crazy.  It was 2006 (I think) and still a few years before I would start seriously running.  I asked her if she’d ever run the Mini (as it was just a couple of weeks away from this 5K), although as I think about it, I have no idea why running a 5K at a 9 minute pace equated to running a half marathon.  Regardless, her response was, yes, many times, and a number of marathons.  I again looked at her like she was crazy, thinking to myself that running a marathon sounded like one of the most horrible things you could ever voluntarily do to yourself.  Then I asked her how long a marathon was, and almost died.

Now here I am, a little over six years later, getting ready to engage in an activity that I once thought sounded like torture.  I no longer think it sounds like torture, but I am still a bit nervous.  Mostly, though, I’m really freaking excited.

After my first half marathon, I thought that would be the longest distance I would run.  It was doable.  I was content to keep running half marys.  I’m not sure exactly what changed or when, but after a year or so, a full didn’t seem so daunting.  I entertained thoughts of doing one the fall of 2011.  Then I ran my worst race to date – the 2011 Mini.  I went out way too fast, and I hit a wall at mile 9.  I spent the last three miles telling myself I was never running another race again, I might not even run again, and I was never doing a full.  Ever.  Never ever.  Fall training season came around, and between an injury and the still-fresh agony of the Mini, I sat out the season.

As any runner who has vowed to quit running knows, my threats were hollow, and after a few months I was back at it.  I started training for another half, still unsure about whether to tackle a full.  Then the hamstring pain flared up, and I really didn’t know what to do.  To top it off, I couldn’t find a training program that I liked.  In fact, I was still on the fence until last Saturday, when I finally registered for the Monumental Marathon on the last day to get the early bird rate.

So far the hamstring pain has been tolerable, and the program that I stitched together from four or so other programs has been serving me well.  I finally splurged and bought a Garmin.  It has been a great asset for my speed workouts.

I know that there are still 17 weeks of training, and I’ve yet to run a run a distance I’ve never run before, but I’m looking forward to this process.  I think I will learn a lot about myself.  I’ve already learned that while I really hate getting up early, I really hate running in 90+ degree weather more.  If you had told me even six months ago that I would be willingly running between 5:45 and 7:45 in the morning five days a week in order to avoid the sun and heat of the afternoon, I would have said you were nuts.  But here I am, doing exactly that with very little complaining.

My main goals are to stay healthy and injury-free, have fun, and cross the finish line on November 3.  I’ll be sharing the journey with you here.  For those of you also training for a marathon, or thinking about running one, I leave you with this thought, sent to me by one of my good friends: