Marathon play-by-play

I realize I really should have made myself sit down and write this the day after the marathon, but life kind of got in the way and I feel like I am non-stop busy these days. Oh well, better late than never! Here it is- the low down details of my 26.2 mile excursion!

I believe I wrote before about having to be in our hotel lobby by 5 AM. I still have no idea why that was- we basically sat around for about an hour and a half while all of us were getting antsy. Finally the A-team girls and I (we call ourselves that because during training, we were broken down into G-O-T-E-A-M groups- Group G was the fastest group, all the way down to M. So Team A wasn't the absolute slowest, but we were close.) Anyway, my girls and I finally had had enough by about 6:15 AM, and we decided to head out into the cold San Francisco morning and join the throngs of people assembling at the start line. It was quite chilly, but luckily I was very bundled up. When we were in the crowd, it wasn't too cold because of all the people around, so I probably could have done without my disposable $6 target sweat pants.

We were grouped by pace and the crowd was massive- stretching over and around entire city blocks. Finally, 7 AM rolled around and there was a big cheer- it was time to start! One of my biggest concerns was that there would be a slow start and it would take a long time for me to reach the start line, but this was very well organized and I crossed the start line at 7:12 AM, much less time than I thought it would take. We were off! To be honest, the first few miles are a bit of a blur. It was a little bit surreal and I was testing out my legs, seeing how the felt, since we had been tapering for 2 weeks and not doing as many miles as normal, I was concentrating on not going out to fast and just warming up. My fancy GPS watch was going a little nuts for the first mile through the tall buildings in San Francisco, so I was having a hard time telling exactly how fast we were going. I took off my sweatshirt and gloves sometime within the first mile and felt really good- it was really good weather for running. We headed down toward the water and hit the Embarcadero at mile 1. Sometime between mile 1 and mile 2, we paused briefly so I could take off my sweatpants and others could shed clothing as well. The first 3 miles looked like the dressing room at Old Navy- clothing strewn everywhere. Apparently this is a regular occurrence for marathons- people wear disposable clothing and folks from charities come and pick up the leftovers from the side of the race. We were making great time over the first few miles, plus, starting earlier than I thought we would start, we hit the mile 3 "Family Cheer Station" before 7:50, much earlier than I was expecting us to get there. Pat and I had spent a lot of time Saturday night deliberating on where he should try and go to watch, how he should get there, etc., and we decided that he would take the Nike provided shuttle to the first "Family Cheer Spot" located at mile 3. That shuttle didn't leave the start line until 7:30, and he didn't arrive until after we'd long since passed, so he missed the first stop. I was feeling fine, though, mile 3 had the first slight incline (although nothing like what was waiting further down the road,) and we all continued to feel great, taking in the sights of fisherman's wharf and north beach.

From there we headed along the marina. I will state for the record that parts of San Francisco don't smell so hot- more on that later. The marina was particularly pungent. It was early and we were all very excited to be running, though, so even the fishy smell didn't really get me down. Miles 3-5 took us through a stretch of pretty flat running through the Marina, and then we got to the Presido and our first glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge, and also the first of the bigger San Francisco hills.

Mile 6 was pretty much all up hill. And none of the San Vicente, gradual uphill for a mile action, this was one big, steep hill. We decided before we started the race that we would walk the 3 big hills at mile 6, 9, and 11, and none of us had a problem slowing down and taking this one bit by bit. That hill was actually kind of fun- we were taking it at a really manageable pace, and the scenery was beautiful. The Presidio used to be an Army post, and there is some gorgeous officer housing we got to run past. Also got great views of Golden Gate Park.

Once we finally made it up to the top of the mile 6 hill, Mile 7 was a nice little change- it was mostly down hill, and we made good time. I'm pretty sure that this downhill section is where I saw Sarah Reinertsen, who I was first introduced to on The Amazing Race a few years ago, and who is an amazing athlete, who happens to be an above-the-knee amputee. I'm not too proud to admit that I yelled "I loved you on Amazing Race" as we passed her, and she said "Thanks! I hope you have an Amazing Race today!" I wonder how many times she yells that during any given race. Anyway, it was enough to give me a little kick in the pants- there she is on one leg, moving along like running a marathon is the easiest thing in the world.

Most of mile 8 & 9 were uphill again. We wound through some beautiful neighborhoods of big, expensive homes, and somewhere in there was the "Kaiser Permanente Orange Mile" where they handed out orange wedges to everyone. All I could think about was how we were running past these multi million dollar homes whose yards were COVERED in half-eaten oranges. Gross.

From mile 9.5 to about 11 were the biggest downhill portions of the race. We came out of the neighborhood and decreased about 300 feet of elevation in that 1.5 mile section, and I was starting to feel the race about then. Going downhill uses totally different muscles than going up hill, and although I was still feeling great at that point, I had a premonition on that downhill chunk that if I was starting to feel it right then, only 10 miles in, the next 16 might be a little rough. We made it downhill on our first little run on the Great Highway, and turned the corner at mile 11 into Golden Gate Park.

It was here at mile 11 that we said goodbye to dear Angela, one of my favorite running partners all season. Angela was running the Nike 1/2 Marathon, but had been training for the full marathon with us all season because NEXT weekend (November 4,) she runs the New York Marathon! Good Luck Angela! We stopped at the porta-potties at mile 11 and it is a miracle that I didn't ralph. It was touch and go, but I pushed through, and we were on our way again!

Mile 11.5-14 were uphill again, and somewhere around mile 11.5 Pat found me for the first time! He had made very cute signs and was a welcome sight. He took lots of photos, had a huge grin on his face, and ran about a mile with me, I think. He then looped around and found us again at mile 14 at the end of that downhill push. Miles 11.5 through 16 were a big loop around Golden Gate park, which was good because pat was able to find us a couple of times. Sometime around mile 13 our group started to get spread out and it was down to just Katy and I. Katy is awesome- she's mom to 2 beautiful girls, one of whom is in remission for Leukemia. She has been a huge support and encouragement all season, and I was happy to get to be doing this last, big run with her. We both started to get hungry for something more solid than the GUs we'd been eating, and kept hoping for a Luna moon stop, to no avail. by the time we saw Pat again at mile 14, we were both still doing well, but you could begin to see the tide turning, I think, and could see the "bite me zone" on the horizon. Pat took off via cab to meet us further down the line, and we continued on.

At mile 16, we made the turn onto the great highway, and this is where I think we fully entered into the bite me zone. From Miles 16-18.5 we ran parallel to the folks who were on mile 23.5-mile 26- folks who were close to finishing. While this was incredibly inspiring, it was also really depressing, because we knew we had quite a few miles and probably 2 more hours of running before we got to where they were, and we were really ready to be done running. Alas, that was not the case. And the folks on the sidelines, cheering us on, bless their hearts, but everything they said at that point was just wrong. People kept saying "You're almost there!" And it took EVERYTHING I had not to snap back, "Um, have you looked at a map?!? I have 10 FREAKING MILES LEFT." Not good. What sent Katy and I over the edge, though, was the 12th person who yelled out "Go KATHY!" Now, Katy's name might be a little easier if it was spelled Katie, but she is not the first person I know who spells her name Katy. And maybe from 10-20 feet away, it just looks like Kathy. But for some reason, at mile 17, when the 900th person of the day yelled "Go KATHY" we both just lost it. We were giggling hysterically and both cursing under our breath, which was pretty funny, and is how Pat found us next. He could tell the change in the mood of the group, and thankfully didn't say much. I think he realized that anything he said at that point would probably be wrong, so he just ran along for moral support. He did try to help me fix my water belt and wasn't moving quite fast enough for my liking at that point, and I'm afraid I might have snapped at him for it. I'm sorry Honey.

At mile 18.5, we made the turn to go around Lake Merced. Ah, Lake Merced. The bane of my existence. That is, without a doubt, my least favorite 5 miles ever. Hands down. It kind of smells bad, you're running against traffic for a time, I had significantly slowed down at that point and was really feeling it. It just was awful- everything they tell you about distance running and hitting the wall, happened around Lake Merced. There was a mile in there that I repeated "Chemotherapy is so much harder" over and over with every footstep. It lifted my spirits temporarily and I kept telling myself what a wimp I was- that folks with Leukemia and Lymphoma went through much worse, and that this pain was temporary- I would be better within a couple hours and those with blood cancers would trade places with me in an instant. On and on I trudged around Lake Merced, and it was tough.

The really great part, though? Somewhere around Lake Merced, I knew I was going to do it. I was going to become a Marathon finisher. I didn't feel a great flood of relief or a burst of speed, no, for me that realization was met with a crashing wave of reality that yes, I was going to be a finisher, but it wasn't going to be pretty and I was going to feel every single step of those last few miles. It was going to take everything I had left, including a few tears, to finish. And Katy, bless her heart, wasn't going to leave me. I was moving pretty slowly at this point- mile 22 was particularly bad, but she kept slowing down with me. I'm pretty sure she wasn't in quite as rough shape at that point as I was, but she was as determined that I finish as she was that she finish, and for that, I will be forever grateful. Because it feels nice to know that you are not alone at those low points. I don't think I was adequately conveying to her that I knew I was going to finish- either way, she wasn't going to leave me until she knew I was going to cross the finish line, too. At mile 23.5, Pat was waiting again, and Katy finally listened to me and picked up her pace and took off. I think she trusted Pat to keep me going to the finish.

I kind of broke down a little bit at mile 23.5. It was uphill again (although looking back, it was a pretty small hill, but at that point, that was all it took.) And I was just exhausted. We walked the hill, and I cried a little, but I kept going. I took off my water belt and Pat carried it. I also think that this was the point that I looked over and told Pat"I think this is quite possibly the worst idea I have ever had." (I also noticed then that Pat had spilled the contents of a full Gatorade bottle on his shorts, making it look suspiciously like he wet his pants. At the time, nothing could make me laugh, but later in the day the memory of him jogging along with a wet crotch area made me giggle instantly.) So off we went again towards the great highway, this time with me on the victory side of the road.

The last 3 miles were the hardest thing I have ever done. Knowing that I had to keep going for 3 more miles was a bit overwhelming at that point. Pat jogged along with me I think until mile 25, and then he ran ahead to get to the finish. I couldn't tell you much of what happened that last 1.2 miles. I just remember thinking "Even though this hurts, remember this feeling- you are doing something great." I remember the sound of the pacific ocean off to my left, and the clumps of spectators on both sides of the street, cheering me on. I remember seeing the mile 26 sign and thinking- this is it. This is that moment I have run the last 26 miles for, to get here, to be right here, in this moment. One of our coaches, Marissa, found me about then and jogged with me through the ever thickening rows of spectators. She'd been out there for hours and was still as excited as ever. I saw Pat, with the biggest grin I've ever seen on his face. (I hope I get a grin that large at our wedding when I walk down the aisle- this was a HUGE grin.) I started to cry, knowing that I was a finisher, the finish line was in sight, and I was going to cross it. My biggest fear over the last 6 months was that something would happen- I would get injured somehow and not be able to finish. That I would let all the folks down who had donated money to LLS in support of my marathon, and that I would let myself down. Well, in that moment, I was conquering that fear- I was doing something I never dreamed I would do- I was finishing!

I crossed the finish line and was met by tuxedo-clad firemen, handing out Tiffany boxes with our finishers necklaces, and then herded through another line of folks handing out bananas and Luna bars and then another set of folks were handing out Tee shirts. Unfortunately they were out of the tin-foil blankets they hand out as runners finish (I was pretty mad about that at the moment- for one I was cold and could have used it- I ended up putting on Pat's extra clothes, 2nd, I secretly had always wanted to be that chick walking around with the cool metallic blanket. Third- you know how many people are participating in the race- how hard is it to order that number of blankets?) Then Pat found me and gave me a huge hug, and we set out to find some food- I was REALLY hungry and ready for something non-gel to eat.

The rest of the afternoon, we vegged. I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich from room service and hung out in bed watching football, more sore than I had ever been in my life. But I couldn't wipe the grin off my face- I was a finisher.

I wasn't sore for that long- by Wednesday my legs were pretty much back to normal. And by Monday, as crazy as it sounds, I was already thinking that maybe I could do that again. If I could just do this, and next time I wouldn't do that, and maybe if I did a little more of this ahead of time...

Thank you for being a part of this crazy journey. For reading along and for the donations and the words of support and encouragement. Each one of you helped make it possible for me to cross the finish line- something I never imagined I would be able to do a year ago, and something I only half believed I could do 6 months ago. Thanks to those of you who donated early, so I knew I was committed and had to follow through. That sense of obligation helped get me out of bed at 6 in the morning every Sunday for 5 months, and helped me cross the finish line. Thanks to my cousin Ashley, to our family friend Bob, and to everyone else battling Leukemia or Lymphoma, for fighting harder on a daily basis than I did for those 6 hours. Yours is the race we must win, and I am grateful to have been a small part of the fight for a cure.