Two days ago, October 19, 2008, I ran a marathon. Simultaneously the best, worst and most painful decision I've ever made in my life. Saturday afternoon Brittany and I flew to San Francisco (apparently it was JetBlue's first flight so we got free cake!!!). Ryan few in shortly after us. Nike had some awesome things going on, though I didn't want to wait for 3 hours to take advantage of any of them, so massages and pedicures were skipped in favor of our own personal pre-marathon food marathon. We went to Italian street and had some pasta, then I ate Ryan's pasta, then we somehow got free tiramisu, then we went to this really delicious pizza place (3 bites in we were all feeling mighty sick), then I wanted gelato... let's just say that between the two marathons I completed this weekend that my body pretty much hates me.
6am Sunday, dark and early, we got up, I ate the random pickings I could find (luna gummies, an apple, water) and jumped in the crowd of 20,000 runners clustered in Union Square. Being that this was the Nike Women's Marathon, there was a LOT of estrogen (just over 1,000 men and that was it!). The first 2/3 of the run can be described as a LOT of eating, surprised? About every 2 miles there were food stations, orange slices, bananas, luna bars, more really gross gummies that I couldn't pass up, and I'm pretty sure I stole some pretzels from some random people along the way. At the (very obvious) split between half and full marathon runners I seriously contemplated unofficially switching. It was a good thing that I didn't because, though I couldn't see them, Ryan and Brittany could see me and probably would have jumped on the track and turned me back around.
Around mile 17 I hit my first wall (yeah, there was more than one) where I started mumbling profanities and talking to myself. Around mile 21 I thought I was going to die, but I figured if I ran just one more mile than I could walk the last 4. Approaching mile 22 I saw a giant sign that said, "Ghirardelli mile," which basically meant that I was handed the most delicious piece of chocolate I've ever eaten, and could thus stop running to eat it (Caramelized almond, if you must know). I walked that whole mile, realized that it was still possible for me to MAYBE hit my goal of 4:30 and so I ran... all the while wondering if I might involuntarily break into sobs or vomit, or both. Luckily I never actually cramped up to the point of incapacitating myself, which was nice, I crossed the finish line when the official clock read 4:36, but had yet to figure out my official time since I'd crossed the starting line after the clock had started running, I just didn't know how long after.
At the finish line there were "hot firefighters in tuxedos" with little blue boxes on silver platters. These little boxes held my Tiffany's necklace that I received for finishing the race. I say "hot firefighters in tuxedos" in quotes because, though I'd read about and was excited for this before the race, I took no notice of them and basically headed straight for the bagel table. By the time Brittany and Ryan got to me I had most of the chocolate chip bagel in (or around) my mouth, a jamba juice in the other hand, and was attempting, unsuccessfully, to pick up a bowl of granola.
I'm fairly certain that after such physical exertion that your body goes into a panicky survival mode, I think for about the first half hour post race that I was pretty out of it. We basically went home to shower, got food, napped for 4 hours (being a spectator is hard work... just ask my two fans), went out and ate again, and then slept until morning. It was amazing. I found out that my official finishing time was 4:29:58, which means I hit my goal! Now as I start day two my walk is reduced to a waddle, and likely will be for a while. Though this post might, to some, sound like one big complaint, I really am SO happy that I did it, as I slowly regain mental capacity I'm more and more proud of myself for finishing the thing, overlooking the pain it is such an awesome feeling. I don't know that I'll ever run a marathon again by myself, but it would definitely be fun to do with someone and apparently I was so encouraging (not) about the process that Ryan might entertain the notion... we shall see!
So this is me pointing to my name on the wall, I'm ALMOST tall enough to reach it!
Me crossing the finish line in the gray, don't I look happy?
And me after the race... eating.
