The Diary of a Marathon Runner

The Soldier Marathon, November 9, 2013

My start was uneventful.  I was in a pretty big crowd, and as always, I tried to find some space to run where I didn’t feel like I was about to get run over and/or about to run over someone else.  I felt good.  The air was crisp.  I think the temperature at the start was in the mid-40’s and I remembered that I meant to run with gloves on, so I pulled the sleeves of my shirt down to cover my hands.

Soon after the start I entered Fort Benning.  It is a beautiful base.  The course ran through residential areas, for the most part, and some of the families were on the sidewalks and in their yards cheering for us as we went by.  Soldiers lined the route and encouraged us, especially the drill sergeants lining a particularly steep hill.  I did feel a little bit of a cramping feeling in my left hamstring as I ran the hill, but it didn’t last long and I have felt that before when I’ve run in the cold.  My breathing was fine – I didn’t feel winded at all - and though I knew I was running faster than I trained, I was having trouble slowing down because I felt so good.

My goal time was 4:34 because that was my finish time at Disney (my first marathon).  I had said I’d be happy with a 4:45 finish, but I really had my sights set on beating my first time.

The course winded around a golf course and the water treatment facilities and flattened out pretty good.  I started to see the half-marathoners coming back on the other side of the running path and knew I was close to their turnaround.  I figured once I got past that point, I could really settle in to a slower pace and buckle in for the last half of the marathon.  I reached the half turnaround at about 10 miles and entered a wooded area with the marathoners.  At this point I started to feel the familiar twinges in my left knee.  About three weeks before, I felt like I had developed some tendonitis or something in my knee, but it usually started hurting around 6 miles or so.  I was actually relieved that it hadn’t flared up until about 11 miles.  I knew the pain would get worse and then I hoped it would subside.  It didn’t.  It got worse.  Much worse.

By the time I got to the 13.1 split, I was telling myself I had made a huge mistake in running the full marathon.

I quickly realized I needed to manage my self-talk.  Mentally, I was afraid and dwelling too much on how much further I had to run.  I tried to tap into my Diesel mentality, but the pain was making it hard to concentrate on being a badass.  I tried to loose myself in the scenery.  I was running along the river walk through wooded areas and over little bridges.  It should have been very relaxing.  Instead I was trying not to panic.

I knew that my husband would be at the marathon turnaround area at the 17 mile marker, so I set a goal of getting to that point and then I’d take a break and rest a minute, maybe eat something.  Before I got there, I decided to stop at the water stop at 15 miles to refill my water bottles.  Just past this was a turn onto an uphill climb.  As I started to run again, the pain in my knee was excruciating.  It hurt so bad that I was literally hobbling up the hill and, once again, desperately trying to manage the panic I was feeling.  After I crested the hill, the stabbing pain ebbed into an ache that radiated from my hip flexor down to my knee.  I realized it hurt too bad to stop and restart.  I had no choice but to keep on running.  The good news was that on a fitness level, I still felt fine.  I didn’t feel like I was tanking or running out of gas.  I was just a wreck mentally.

Not too much further along, I started to feel some cramping in my quad on my right leg.  I figured I was probably compensating for the pain in the left leg and had changed my form and causing my right leg to over-work.  So I really tried to concentrate on my form and stride.  I ran up a steep incline to a long bridge that crossed over the river and at the top I felt both calves try to cramp.  So much for trying to use good form.  I shuffled to the turnaround with a goal to stop, stretch and take the break I had planned – even though I knew it would hurt to start back up.

As I rounded the turn, my husband was off to the side taking pictures – which made me so mad for some reason.  I didn’t want any pictures of my suffering.  I stopped and drank a Gatorade and he refilled my water bottles while I stretched.  He offered food, but I was too mad to accept anything.  I just wanted to get moving again.  I told him I was cramping up and let him know that my knee was going to be really messed up after the race.  I also told him that I was still going to try to finish around 4:30.  He didn’t look like he believed me, but I really just thought it was a matter of hunkering down and getting to the finish.  I turned and started running again.  The first steps were excruciating, but I knew it would dissipate in a bit.  It did, but the cramping started up again.  At the 20 mile mark, in an effort to control the cramping, I decided to walk.  Big mistake.  Walking on my knee was so painful I almost couldn’t stand on it.  So, here I was, 6 miles from the finish line trying to fight off full-leg cramps and severe knee pain.  Running resulted in cramping.  Walking resulted in severe knee pain.

And that’s when the wheels came off.

I started seriously playing out the idea of quitting.  No one would blame me for not being able to finish.  People would feel sorry for me.  My friends and family would look at me with sympathy and tell me it was okay.  But I knew I would not be okay.  I’d have to live with the knowledge that I quit – and I’d never get a chance to get it off my record.  One of my favorite sayings is, “Pain is temporary; quitting is forever”.

I compared the pain I was in at that moment to what I knew I would feel like if I had to live with the knowledge that I quit.  At that point my motivation shifted away from the positives of finishing to the negatives of quitting.  The shadows of a shattered pride and a bruised ego became my running partners for the next 6 miles.

I worked into a routine of running a little and walking a little, though every time I had to walk, I sunk deeper and deeper into a funk.  I watched minutes tick by and knew I wasn’t going to be setting any PR’s today.  I continued on in absolute agony - mentally, physically, spiritually, and emotionally wrecked.

As I came up on the 24 mile marker, I started thinking about how I wanted to finish this god-forsaken race.  Part of me wanted to hang my head and just keep walking right up to the finish line.  Just give up for good and screw trying to finish strong.

But, I’ve always said, it doesn’t matter how you run the race.  It matters how you finish.

So, I made a plan to walk the entire 24^th mile in an effort to rest enough to run from the 25 mile marker to the finish.  I had to really hold myself to the plan because walking that entire mile felt like an eternity.  I kept wondering if I’d missed the mile marker for 25 because it seemed to take forever.  But, the 25 mile marker did eventually come along and I set off at a slow and painful trot.  I turned onto the main road that runs along the side of the parking lot and the museum where the finish line was.  I felt a small burst of energy pushing me forward, but had to hold back to keep my legs from cramping.  I turned the corner and ran along in front of the museum and finally made the turn towards the finish line.  It looked so far away and there were people lining the sides of the street cheering.  I tried to make my legs cooperate for a good finish.  Somehow, the thrill of the finish pushed the pain to the side and I was able to finish strong.  Then I was there – crossing the finish line and pumping my arms because it was over.

Finally.

Pretty much immediately, my legs gave out and I stopped trying to fight the cramps.  My entire right leg cramped up and my left knee was so painful I couldn’t put any pressure on that leg.  My choices were to hit the ground or walk it out.  My dad was there and he half carried, half dragged me around so I could try to walk the cramps out.  I was trying not to cry, but was crying anyway and just wanted to get away from the crowds.  We finally found a place for me to sit down and recover.  Eventually, the cramps quit and I was able to relax.  It was hell and I made it through. In 4:44.30.

One of my favorite running quotes is, “Running never takes more than it gives back.  Believe in the run.”  I do believe in the run and I do believe that running that marathon has given me….something.  I just don’t know what that is yet.  I know that I can endure.  I know that I won’t quit even if everyone would understand if I did.  I know that the pain of quitting is scarier than the pain of finishing.  Are these gifts?  If they are, I’m not sure I am eager to put them to use again.  That may be a blog for another day…

The Monday after the marathon, I was limping around getting ready for work when I realized that in an almost subconscious moment, in thinking about my experience, I was putting the Soldier Marathon on my “list” to take it on again someday.  I actually stopped, laughed, and said out loud,

“Well, Diesel’s back”.