it wasn't me, i swear.

mayor charlotte to my left, council secretary to my right.  i, in my poopy running jacket, in the middle.

literally poop-stained.

oh, some days you end up going to dignified meetings with a spot of caca on the front center of your jacket.

today was one of those days.

it wasn't mine.  the doodie i mean.  it wasn't my poop.  it was my jacket.  my favorite (only) winter try-not-to-freeze-in-it running jacket.  and oh ya, it's WHITE.   and this particular shit was brown.  the very color you expect shit to be.  

i was going running immediately after the meeting, so i went in my running clothes.  and under the jacket was skin tight under-armor super-warm long sleeve, and so i made the executive decision that i'd keep  my crap-jacket on verses sitting in the meeting of the distinguished Women of Watertown with my big boobs in their faces.

and if the other 10 women surrounding the table, mostly facing me, didn't SEE the dung on my jacket, i am comforted by the fact that at least they smelled it.   i couldn't, but i have a notoriously poor sniffer.  it barely qualifies as a sense of smell, really.  but i spent much time sniffing and trying to see if it was odorous.   if it was, what to do?

leave the table, go to the bathroom, and wash the chocolate hostage off?  considered it.   but... then i come back many minutes later with a big wet spot under my boob on my running jacket (which i'm from here on out calling 'the poop deck').   and then it's clear to the others that it must have really been a product of Uranus, their suspicions confirmed.

 at this point i had the unknown working in my favor.  i figured at least some of the women probably only noticed the butt mud in a fleeting way, not giving lil brownie a second thought.    so then, if i come back with a big wet spot, then i was in there busy doing SOMETHING and it was probably washing off the brown bomb .. BAM ... i'm made.

this is only my second time meeting with this established group and i don't need whispers about my uncleanliness going round.  so i didn't get up.  i sat slouched a bit and with my arm covering up the #2 as much as i could.  for an hour and a half.  discussing important city business, giving opinions here and there, all with a silent poo-poo platter down below.

it's was spike the dog's dingleberry, by the way.   i swear.   he has fragile tiny chihuahua feet that get very cold very fast.  our little spiky has a hard time warming up if he gets too cold, so today when i took he and benji, the more sturdy toy poodle, for a walk (right before the meeting) i scooped spike up into my jellybean sling and cradled him close for warmth for the last half of the walk.

apparently he had retained a bit of his earlier dump.  spike didn't quite export all the chocolate.  thus, the smear.  the smear smelt round the table at b's on the river.  

i had just a little more to say.

For No Quit Fit last week I was given the blog topic: Is there a double standard in fitness?  There is a limit to the length I can submit and I had a little more to say.  Here's the full story.

I lifted the first dumbbell of my adult life in September of 2011.  8 pounders.  Above my head.  Many reps and many struggles to push that weight all around up and down and in and out.    This was my first bootcamp class.  Wretched bootcamp class.   After the first day of class, which coincided with my first day of exercise in oh, about 15 years give or take, on the drive home I reflected on how it went.  My drive is only 5 blocks so all I got to was how all the women looked and how they made me feel.  I hadn't known anyone in the class personally, though a few faces were familiar.  Some of them were lifting 15 or 20 pounders and were zipping so quickly up and down in the burpee portion of the night.  I was getting dizzy just watching their speed and agility.  They were laughing and joking about tacos while doing a million toe push ups.  I was so sweaty and exhausted after 3 knee push ups, all I could muster in the comedy department was puking in my mouth a little after numero 4.   Funny, not funny.  

bootycampers: go commando! 5k mud run!

tough women!

getting soft.

There were softer-bodied women and harder-bodied women and everyone was lifting and jumping and sweating.   Some women were completing 2 burpees to my one sad slow burpee.   Toward the end of the first month, while I was knocking out a burpee, the trainer said to me "be athletic".  Huh?  You talking to me?  This is as fast as I can go, sloth like.  We just did push ups and lifted, and then ran stairs and lunges from hell.  These are the extent of my burpees.  Quit looking at me.   

But he didn't let up.  "It's not your speed I'm talking about, your two feet are not springing back together.  You're quickly moving one foot then the other.  It's not athletic, and you are athletic."  

You know how someone says something to you and it just sticks?  Like, when I fell in love with Alan the rest of the way.  I know the instant it happened and exactly what he said to make me limp like noodles in love with him.    It was our second week of knowing each other and Alan, Rayshele (bestie), and I were at Bandana Square eating lunch on a work break.  Bandana Square is a strip mall in St. Paul.  We were leaving the building and walked past a store called Bandana Cleaners.  Alan said, "They're really limiting themselves."  And the rolling laughter that came bellowing out of my face was so loud and hearty and jovial!   Rayshele shot me a disapproving look of "it's not that funny, you are trying too hard".  But I wasn't TRYING to do anything, I was laughing at the best humor I'd encountered in my life.  That was it.   I was already half way in love with the man.  We had been inseparable since the day after we met.   In that moment, I fell completely in love with Alan.  It's etched in my memory.  Same as Dustin's words to me that day in bootycamp: "be athletic".  

He knew I could do better.  He knew I was an athlete but needed to be spurred.  He saw it in me.  He read my potential and pushed me to achieve it.  I was doing kick-ass burpees by the second month.  No more two-foot-separations. I complete athletic burpees now, because I'm an athlete.  Thank you Dustin for rekindling this for me!

Dustin, trainer extraordinaire.

On that first night of bootcamp, on about block 4 on the drive home it hit me.  I was a softer-bodied woman.  I hadn't totally come to terms with this fact until that moment.  I was a softer-bodied woman and I felt comfortable in my skin at bootcamp.  Had that happened before?  I repeat, had that fucking happened before?  In my life?   I wracked my brain.  Um, no.  I felt zero judgements.  I had zero personal thoughts to bring myself down.  Nirvana?  I think so.  I was in awe of myself for going, staying, finishing.    

Ronnie and I were about the same size perhaps, at my heaviest.

I see snap cards are peeking out!  I was on my way.

 

Drinks and Appies were my usual.  Time to break away from the usual.

With all this physical shit being hoisted upon me by the trainer, boom boom boom christ it was one thing after another,  I didn't even have enough energy to care a lick about my nips blaring for the spotlight.   What is that all about anyway?  Good god, settle.   I don't think mine are unusually large or anything but it's like they always have to stand at attention.   At ease girls, at ease.   

When I pushed the weight up high and my shirt came up to reveal a roll peaking out to say yo, was I embarrassed?  YES.   But not because I thought any of the other boot campers cared to count the dimples pushing through my yoga pants.   Rather, I was feeling my own embarrassment in my choices that had led to roly poly oly.    Softie-softelson.  Coming to terms with it all.  It was a powerful day that's for sure. 

But that night at bootcamp, I was comfortable.  Comfortable being vulnerable because I was moving!  I was being active!  I was lifting weights for fuck's sakes.  I felt welcomed.   And I got the distinct feeling that these women and this trainer were about to give me a platform for change, and some really excellent and motivating fit bodies to emulate.  Along with a shit-load of mountain climbers and walking lunges.  

I was hooked.  Well, until three days later when I couldn't sit down on the toilet without grab bars.  My quads were burning!  Not to mention every other muscle and fiber in my body.   The second week of class, my husband literally had to push me out the door to go back to class.  I was so sore I wanted to quit.  I hadn't been sore in my life.   Soreness didn't happen in high school athletics.   I told Alan my body was screaming at me to knock it off, but he knew better.  He said my body was screaming at me to bring it on.  He was right.  After a month, I never looked back and hardly missed a class over one and half years before I had to take a break from lifting during the last leg of my marathon training in the spring of 2013.  

My biggest cheerleader and confidante!

Marathon-fit.  Best shape of my life!

Now, the double standard question, is there one in my world of fitness?  I think it's in the mind of the beholder.    And my mind doesn't see one.  Men joined our class in my tenure.   I didn't feel self conscious around them.  I had to hold in my farts just the same around the women as I did around the men.  I didn't feel I had to act a certain way when they were around, I was able to be myself whether there were men present or not.  

Except for the farts.  There was a "no fluffing" rule at bootcamp.  I was shocked to hear the rule at first.  How does one not let it rip when doing crunches and bicycles?  Those moves beg for release.   Of course they were smart to institute that before I arrived.  Did my reputation precede me?   It's not easy to stifle, but for the love of my fellow bootcampers and Dustin, I maintain the no fluffing policy.  Is it easy?  No.  But rules are rules.  

Benji is a brave brave doggie!

 

Other than that, being a man or a woman didn't matter in class.   The bathroom was nasty gross and unclean with a constantly overflowing huge black garbage bag laying tipped over on the floor.   Though some of the women complained about it needing to be cleaned, those complaints fell on deaf ears.  So the women weren't treated to a nice bathroom that's for sure. 

I was asked to work just as hard on building my muscles as the men.  I loved the attitude from the trainer: whether it's your first day or your fiftieth or you are a man or a woman, you paid me to work your ass off, so that's what I'm going to do.  

Becoming a hard body!

In my happy place.

dip de dip.

Someday I'll get dedicated and go for abs!

I like being outside now!

If I was a person that put walls up, I might be able to think more and find the double standards that exist in my fitness world, but I tend to put in chinks instead.  

can't stand the word journey. finally found the perfect replacement.

brett is in his 4th week at community reintegration program (CRP) at courage center, specifically designed for people who have brain injuries that are seeking independence.  unfortunate initials when you live with alan and brett.  they have taken to lovingly referring to it as CRAP.  acronyms and puns are big laughs around here and so brett heads off to crap on mondays, tuesdays, and thursdays and i giggle every time i hear it.   and yes i just giggled when i wrote it too.

last week brett and i were taking the doggies for a walk before supper. 

spike is the cheeky chihuahua and benji is the bounding toy poodle.   cannot believe i bought doggie sweaters, but they were shivering and i can't have them chilly.  love!

he was telling me about his day but  told me few scant details.  that doesn't fly so i inquired about how crp went.  he said a staff member called a meeting with him.   it wasn't one of the teachers of the classes he said, which was an important point to him, i could tell.  she told him that he talks too much in the groups and monopolizes the discussions and learning times.  he needs to give other people a chance to talk.

brett concluded with  "that is bullshit.  if i didn't talk no one would be talking.  she's not even there anyway.  she doesn't know what she's talking about."

brett's face looked a bit more pissed than in this picture, but you get the drift. 

so this opened up a great dialogue with brett. and we had a long way to walk so it was perfect.  apparently this particular staff gathers information from the teaching staff and then periodically she's responsible for meeting with brett and highlighting his flaws as he described it.  and then also helping  him to think of ways to shape his flaws so they become positives and he can grow as a person.  or just telling him what to do.  not sure how tactful she was, i may be putting words in the situation that don't quite fit, but i just spun it for you how i hope she did to brett :) 

i talked about constructive feedback, getting information about yourself from observers about what is going well and what is going awry.  and why this is important.  and that it happens to me too.  i gave brett specific examples of how corrective feedback has made me better in meetings at work, how alan and i have become a better couple because we tell each other what is helping and what is harming our relationship.  we can't make things better if we don't know what the negative things are.  that it's very hard to see these flaws yourself so he's fortunate to have people caring about his interactions so he can shape them so other people want to be around him and enjoy him in the future.   

who wouldn't want to be around this sushi eating coolio?!  well, if you could never get a word in edgewise i guess you just might think twice.

this drink swilling foo is annoying??  perhaps, in some circles. 

after some discussion he understood that maybe they aren't talking because he's doing all of it.  if he were to keep his trap shut sometimes maybe they will speak up.  he needs to pipe down so others can pipe up.  (boy i'd rather have the kid who talks too much as opposed to the one who clams up.  brett was responding quite well, so i'm confident he's going to even out!)

the whole time he was bringing up points, disagreeing in parts, we discussed.  it was give and take and i was really proud of brett for bringing up the topic and sharing with me in the first place. and also pleased he was engaging in the discussion with me.

at one point brett said "fine i'll just say what i want to say and then put my headphones on so other people can talk".   i was fascinated about this.  brettski really needs to be taught to have two way conversations and how to participate in group discussions.  it's not just that he doesn't want to.  he doesn't really know how to.  the injury to his brain has changed his ability in this regard.  now he doesn't really care about the discussion points or responses from others, unless they directly relate to him and further his discussion about himself.

he was partly with this mindset as a 16 year old before his brain injury.  but i'm confident, barring the accident, he would have continued to mature into adulthood and learned these types of lessons through social cues and friends or a girlfriend telling him to shut the hell up and listen to them once in awhile :)

so i talked to brett about actually listening to what the others have to say.  how he can learn more about them, their perspective, their lives, their feelings by listening to what they say.  novel concept, but give it a try.  and see how it works for you, you big monopolizer.  he said he was game.you just can't possibly know how incredibly far brett has come in this regard however.  what the crp staffer is bringing up is for sure an issue to address, and a flaw for brett to overcome.  but if they only knew from where he came!

about 1 year after his brain injury when faced with any amount of time to WAIT even (and i'm talking seconds) would send him into a temper tantrum fit of kicking and flailing fists.  very terrible two.  at 17.  ugh it was  long  few  years of slowly helping him shape his behavior to being able to tolerate wait time and the answer no or anything he construed as negative without making threats or being aggressive or with any semblance of calm.  and then about 2 years ago he got to a new place where he was able to cope with and respond to tough things so much better.  

 and now he's heads and tails above where he was two years ago even.  and i know he will continue to grow and change as a person.  there are no limits for where brett is going, i am glad i'm along for the ride.  

back to the present story:

we kept walking, and i taught him a new vocabulary word and then we rehearsed the phrase:  "thank you for bringing this up to me, i appreciate your candor.  i can use this to become a better person."

instead of telling her it's bullshit which gets no one nowhere fast.   we talked about how important it is to grow and mature from his defensive responses to mature respectful discussions, even when your flaws are the topic.  that's not easy for most people.

then we role played with me bringing up sensitive topics which he would normally view as harsh criticism and immediately get pissed about.  brett responded  first with his canned response which automatically sets the tone for a respectful discussion to ensue.  you can't really say 'candor' without something awesome happening next.  it's disarming to the person who had to bring up the criticism for brett to reply with such maturity.  it sets both parties at ease.  after saying that canned response, it would take substantial effort for brett to go into a 'bullshit' angry retort.


i asked him at the end of the week how things were going in this regard at crp.  he said he's not talking as much and he's listening more and the jury's still out.

i love this kid!

every day of my life there is something new i find out, a nuance to better understand, a piece of information i didn't know previously that i learn.  this is natural for me and i don't have to work at it.

 it is not natural for brett and he does have to work at it. he does need help to know what to improve upon.    the effort is worth it, the changes prudent.  the person brett is makes me sing with joy.  the potential brett has for further shaping of his personal interactions is icing on the cake.

 i become a better more rounded person as i learn and grow.  so does brett.  so does everyone.  he's no different in this regard.   learning and growing  never stops for people who embrace life as an odyssey.the definition of odyssey:  a long series of wanderings or adventures, especially when filled with notable experiences, hardships, pain, and joy.   sounds about right.

the list that never was

the fog has lifted from my post-marathon blues and i am back in business as a human being again.   good thing, since tomorrow is my marathon and my one-month.  happy anniversary to grandma's marathon and greta, cheers!   today, i'm writing a betsy hodgepodge list of thoughts as i'm still a tad bluesy and don't have all my capacities functioning fully quite yet.  here i was championing my quick body recovery.  my body soreness vanished within a week and i thought:  i'm recovered from my marathon.  i'm a miracle!

 oh little did i know that the thick fog all along grandma's marathon, would continue to cover my mind and motivation even 3 weeks later.  i've been very fatigued generally, my mind has not been sharp.    i haven't been motionless, i've been lifting and flinging frisbees.  i've been muscle strength training with my trainer for 2 straight weeks and playing a boat load of disc golf, but haven't wanted to lace up my sneakers much.

racing through my mind the last few weeks:  why don't i want to run?   is it just that the temp and humidity is so high that i will melt into a huge puddle of sweat?  or is there more to it?  i ran happily in sub zero over the winter but i'm steering clear of running in the 90s?  will i ever want to run again?  i will lose all my running fitness!  i worked so hard training for the marathon, why would i throw it all away?  do i just not like to run in the summer?   can i never run a fall marathon?  i can't imagine running 20 miles in 90 degree heat.  oh twin cities marathon, you are out because of my heat-and-humidity-induced run ban.   i already have another race in the books, so i have a reason to run.   but what if i don't want to run anymore?  ever?!   i will have to stop eating ice cream if i stop running.  oh my god.

i just popped a crumbled cert into my mouth.  i was on a parade float on saturday and my roll of certs flipped out of my pocket onto the road.  after i watched the float tire drive over my certs, i quickly grabbed the roll before 3 seconds and so i am still eating them on account of the 3-second-rule.  each one is in pieces and is a crumbly mess in my mouth, so i'm not getting the usual satiation that i derive from sucking on a full cert, which i use to keep my hunger pangs at bay.   alas, i cannot throw them away, as my heaps of hoarders piles of crap in my house can attest.

i didn't get to my hodgepodge list today.   i'll just say that when i ordered my chipotle burrito bowl the other day, she didn't say what kind of meat.  she said "we have run out of lettuce".  i was frozen in panic.  glanced back at alan to see if i heard her right.   fumbled around with wringing my hands as i was at a loss about what to do when buying a chipotle burrito bowl and there is no lettuce.    can i still eat a burrito?   do i want a lettuce-less burrito?  i said to alan, "i don't think i can eat a burrito without lettuce".   and he jerked his head around and saw a few ounces of lettuce in a container and told the bearer of bad news that he will buy that lettuce.  i wanted to shout,  you are next to a cub foods woman who drove a stake through my heart, go buy some bags of shredded lettuce for god's sake!   lettuce is what makes it healthy to eat here!  

from the expo to the finish line--the real life recap of my first marathon!

PART ONE:  setting the stage for my first marathon, AKA freaking out!

as i sit here in barnes and noble with my garmin uploading my marathon numbers, i am thinking "hurry up and finish already".    i immediately had a flashback to mile 18 when i said to myself:

 "this needs to end at 20 miles, how am i going to go faster at mile 21?  i have to go faster at mile 21.  that's my plan. oh my god this should fucking end at 20 miles."

but i'm going to start this record earlier.   proceed with caution:  i'm not censoring myself, i'm getting all the nitty gritty down of how running a marathon went for me.   there will be cursing and poop talk.

my first big moment was friday night the 21st of june.  alan made me the coolest tee shirts ever to commemorate my first marathon and we wore them to the expo.  lots of people looked at our shirts, smiles, grimaces, nods.. it was a very satisfying walk through the expo for my main squeeze, the designer and tee shirt printer.

alan and i ate at the expo pasta feed offered by grandma's.  while we were buying our tickets, the group behind the counter noticed our tee shirts and marveled!  oh my, there was such hoopla being made  about how amazing this design was that i knew right then that alan was sufficiently rewarded for all of his sacrifices he gladly made to help me realize my goal of running a marathon.   but it got better.   one of the women nudged a man that had come on the scene and he was beside himself, whipped out his camera and explained he was on the board of directors for grandma's marathon and could he please snap a shot to be used in a book they put together of the event.  um, hell ya!  possibly published.. good lord, alan's peak expectation was reached.  running a marathon was just icing on the cake at this point.

best shirt ever!

we ordered up some gluten free noodles.  as we were walking to our table, we noticed other plates with bread and wafer cookies.  boo.  none for us?  so we trotted back and she said she  didn't give us any gluten thinking we had celiac, so we let the servers know we were just part-time gluten free wannabes and could we please have some gluten laden bread and don't scrimp on the wafers please.

i gobbled up my food and alan went for seconds. i felt full and was saving room for the tiny square of ice cream bar that was the dessert.  alan ate his second plate and there was his bread, you eating that?  nope.  so i devoured it, so delicious!  

when alan was making a scary attempt to drive and navigate to our home away from home for the weekend (thanks logger for use of your proctor place!) through the thick as pea soup fog, i started to feel like i was getting a gigantic cold.  what!!  my head was getting stuffy, i got a major head ache (rarely ever get headaches), and my throat started to ache.  what was going on!?!?!?   i tried to relax and will it to go away but it didn't work.  if i don't say it out loud it might not really be happening.  but we drove around for 20 minutes in the neighborhood trying to find that freaking house all covered in fog.  i outed my ailment to alan.  he replied "you ate 2 pieces of bread".  i hadn't thought a thing about that while i was eating, except how good it tasted.  i don't eat gluten bread much any more, but sometimes i do.  i explained this to alan.  he said "but you ate 2 pieces".    oh my god!!  why didn't you stop me if you thought something of it you fabulous tee shirt designer?!  i didn't say that out loud, he was stressed enough with trying to get me into our abode so i could start my pre-mary preparations.

i'm happy to report that about an hour later all of those symptoms dissipated never to return.  whew!  illness averted.  and i guess i had my first reaction to gluten??  huh.  anyhoo…

on to the next freak out.  2 days earlier i had felt a funky spot on the back of my neck that felt like it would eventually be a honking whopper of a zitule.  i remember thinking, hmm that kind of hurts, hope that starts to get zitty soon so i can pop it. and i happily recalled that nasty youtube video of the guy's boil that was being popped for-ever and ev-er.  do i have a boil?  am i on the right track with calling it a boil?    alan checked it and it was nothing but a deep, under the skin, sort of bump, but no sign of zit on the surface. i forgot about it.

well that non-zit came back with a vengeance on friday around 10pm.  jeezes balls it started shooting pain up to my ears, through my temples, into my brain.  what the fuck is going on?  alan checked it and there was still no surface sign of a pimple to pop to relieve the pressure.  stick a pin in there and suck it out please please!

i most certainly had this scary-ass thought:  "it might be cancer.  i might have cancer."  and then i thought if i have cancer, this might be the last race i can run and i better make it count.  i thought about how close that under skin bump was to my brain.  this could be it for me.  so i have to run as if i  don't get to run ever again.  

i don't know if the neck and brain pain was intensified due to stress in anticipation of the marathon or if it really was that painful.  i can't say for sure.  but in the moment, i wanted alan to take an ax and chop my head off and i could run that race like a chicken with my head cut off.  i tried to tough it out but resorted to 2 aleve and a shit load of arnica and noni to dull the pain.  it worked and by 11pm i had relief and wasn't worried about it anymore.  (side note: i  am going to make an appointment with my doctor to have it looked at, it still hasn't changed from a bump i can feel under my skin but it seems harder now.)

attaching my pace and nutrition cheat sheet on the  morning of the big day!

i finally finished staging the morning stuff and set my alarm for 4:20am.  this was not enough time as we were super rushed, on the verge of being late, but i guess i like to increase the natural amount of stress and insisted on that late rise time.   i popped out of bed with pep in my step.  

on to the bus ride with the other watertown peeps that took us to two harbors for the race start.  the most notable bus thing was leah commenting to donna about how aleve can make your internal organs burst open, when donna said she used some to help prevent her knee pain.  the comment might not have been that exact verbiage, but that's what i heard and i had taken two aleve, so now along with cancer, my organs might explode while i'm running, great.

i calmed  myself by pulling out my little baggie of motivation and mantra notes i had collected since i started running.  i read through my mantras, i read through my note i wrote to myself from my very first race.  i read and re-read alan's love note that i had found hidden for me in the middle of my 20 mile long run three weeks earlier.   i knew then i would be ok.

trust my training.  i can't help it now if my organs burst or if i have cancer.  i know i have to make this run count no matter what.  it's time to race.  i'm a racer.  my mind will make my body keep moving.  smilers finish faster.  thank the volunteers.  high five the kids.  this will be hard.  it's a marathon.  this is my event.  everything i need is within me.   a marathon is a 6.2 mile race that i run 20 miles to get to.  i will explode onto the scene like a stick of dynamite with a 20 mile long fuse.  stick with my plan, take time to eat, keep my head-- and then be me!  race that last 6.2 miles!  go have a wonderful fucking time!   think strong, be strong, finish strong.  i get to run, so i'm going to run.  when i finish, it's over, so make it count.

i was ready.  

sitting with the watertown group for an hour or so pre-race, on plastic bags, i knew i belonged.  i thought maybe i would feel like a poser.. but nope.  i am a runner.  i trained hard  for 18 weeks, and i had earned an enjoyable race day event.  take it in, let it wash over me.    damn i'm so thirsty.  (take water to the start next time dummy.)   ready, set, go!

the watertown contingency of marathoners

PART TWO:  How to pass the time while the running's (relatively) easy.

i was doing little bunny jumps straight up and down bumping shoulders with a zillion runners, waiting for the race to start.  only 10 minutes earlier i had been in a porta potty hoping to poop before "sexy and you know it" stopped blaring on the loud speaker.   song over.  hopes dashed.

and the next thing i knew i was running past huge yellow balloons which signified i'd finished a mile.  already?  huh?!   that first mile flew by and i didn't even notice it.  right on!!   this is a good sign for sure.   over the mile, i was checking my garmin watch religiously to ensure i was on pace (10:30 for miles 1-10) but didn't once think to look at how far i had gone so far.  who cares?  when there are 26.2 miles to run, it didn't occur to me to look at the distance feature on my garmin.  i blinked and i had run 3 more miles.  seriously.  the thought crossed my mind that my whole race could be like this.   the luck!   the miles just melting away without even realizing.   but then i knew at some point i'd tire of spying penises and when that happened i'd probably be more aware of the road under my feet.  

i'm so happy!  i love running!  i could run forever!

mile 19 or so, still happy as a clam! sort of.  faking it for the camera.

interestingly, and surprisingly to me, many many people run to the side of the road, drop trou, and pee.  it is not surprising to me that people pee on the side of the road rather than stand in line at a porta potty.. as those are precious minutes to be spent running, not standing in line.    but i thought it odd that many had to pee in the first few miles already.  i didn't pee once the whole 26.2 miles.  not even in my pants like i did in my first half marathon.

back to the present race.  the women squat down with abandon, in full view of me while i'm running.  some of the men take care to angle away from peering eyes, others are poor anglers.  i capitalized on the dudes that didn't get the angle right which let me catch a glimpse of their penises.  enter, a way to pass the time.  

running, running, running, running, i was doing a lot of running.  i didn't wear ear buds, as i wanted to experience the raw grit of my first marathon with just me and the road.  no electronics.  i figured i  wanted to do it right, since i may only run one marathon in my life.    the three hallmarks of "doing it right" to me meant

1.  getting no assistance from non runners (meaning i had to pack all of my nutrition and couldn't rely on alan to pass my a peanut butter and jelly from the crowd when i got hungry)

i pack that sammie fat with chunky peanut butter and strawberry jelly yum!

2.  no ear buds (let the sounds of the road, the other runners, and the crowd wash over me so i get the full experience)

3.  go for broke.  race it.  start on full and finish on empty.   at the end of the marathon i needed to know i couldn't have run any faster, that i put up a time that was as fast as i could go.

since i'm not much of a talker while running and i don't find running therapeutic per se, i had to find other ways to pass the time.   you know those people that say "running is free therapy"?  that's not me.  i don't really think about things when i run.  something might pop into my head, i think on it for a spell, but it pops out quickly and then onto the next fleeting thought.    i don't dwell on much.  or "figure things out" like i've heard other runners say.  i just run.  and marvel at the fact that i'm running.

as for the talking: i talked to all of 7 people, about one sentence per person.  again, seriously.  for 4 hours and 31 minutes and 37 seconds  i said a total of one short paragraph of words to others.  i spoke oodles to myself, in my head and out loud to myself, but to others, it was slim pickins.   i will list them here.

a.   since i had to pack all my nutrition, i had all of it in a large mesh pocket on the back of my shirt.  in that pocket i carried 6 GU energy gels which are the consistency of super thick honey and each packet is about triple the size of a mcdonald's to-go ketchup packet.  i also packed a full peanut butter and jelly sandwich cut in half, placed in two separate baggies and made with wonder bread yum!!

around mile 3, a 60-something man was running up behind me with other people all around us, and he said "get a load a that basket!" to the people to his left.  then he said to me, "got any shrimp cocktail in there?"  and i replied "ahahhahahhahah nope!"   i laughed vigorously and as he sped by me i repeated that joke over and over to myself many times so i could remember to tell it later.   at the end of the marathon i didn't know if i'd be blacking out or puking or having complete amnesia or how i would behave after running 26.2 miles as fast as possible, so i knew i needed some solid way to remember that hilarity.   so this charming fella called my pocket a basket  and cracked wise about shrimp cocktail and i wanted him to be my uncle.

here's my basket all loaded up with GU and PB&J

b.  the one i planned to blame if things went horribly awry with this whole running business, mike who got me into running in the first place, ran past me.  what the hell was he doing behind me?  pooping in the woods?   he said something pithy, i replied.  can't recall.  i SO wanted to tell him about the shrimp cocktail but his wheels were spinning pretty fast and i refused to break my 10:30 paces.

c.  while another 60-something guy was running by me he said "that a peanut butter and jelly?" and i said "yep, comfort food".

d.  i came upon my neighbor gina who is the grandma's marathon queen and she told me she was having stomach issues and i said something in return.  i can't recall, but i know i spoke out loud to her so i'm counting it here.

e.  when i hugged my mom and my sister and alan, i told them each that i loved them and hopefully i made them feel good with my words because i felt better than ever when i came across them cheering me.

back to penises as a way to pass the time.  i made it a game to try to see as many ding-a-lings as i could.   doesn't seem like it would be that hard to get a good hidden angle, but i'm sure the guys are just urinating as fast as they can so they lose as few seconds as possible.  (i get it… i waited almost 4 miles from the first inkling of "movement", until i was absolutely sure my shit was going to fall effortlessly and quickly out, before i finally pulled off to the side at mile 11.5.  too bad i'm telling this story mile by mile, because i think i'm still only around mile 5 in the story telling.  i'll have to wait a bit on the poop-chronicles.)

fortunately i saw no dangling dickies below male runner's too-short shorts while trotting past me.   but while dudes were pissing along the road, i stole glimpses of upward of 12 penises before i lost count and switched to counting how many women were going commando.  i could spot the underwear-less ladies by looking closely at their butts in their black compression (fancy 'runners' word for tight) capris.   on many brands of capris (which were by far the bottom of choice among the female runners) the material is made so thin that i could see their flesh color through their pants and actually see their butt crack.  i counted 15 butt cracks before i tired of this game.

nothing notable with miles 5, 6, 7, 8.  just was running.  and eating.  my nutrition plan was to eat about 400 calories every hour.  one GU is 100 calories.  and the fattie PB&J i brought was about 300 calories.  the PB&J i saved for magical mile 10.  i ate one half at mile 9 and the other half at mile 10.  god it was so fucking delicious.  by the 3rd GU however, i was getting grossed out at the thought of eating more of them.  by the end of the race i would ingest 6 GUs, one full PB&J, and the rest of my nutrition i picked up during miles 17-22:  3 clif shot gels, a banana, half a huge strawberry, ice, powerede, and water.   the only time i had stomach issues was for the minute after i drank powerade.   every time i drank powerade, i felt like i was going to regurgitate.  i had to drink powerade at the odd miles starting at 3 (3-25) so that was a lot of pukey feelings, but it would go away quickly and then i'd be fine until i drank it next.


PART THREE:   Relief and Renewal

etched in my memory, this marathon of mine.  am i concerned about recalling the details, the sweat drops, the feelings i had over a week after i ran 26.2 miles?  nope,  feels like it was yesterday.  my left foot is still harboring the significant tendinitis it refuses to release.   the rest of my body has scant evidence of the gruel i put it through 8 days ago.  

this is mostly because my muscles are now clamoring to recover from thursday's and friday's hours of weight-lifting/boxing/battle-roping i put it through.  i've found that the best way to recover from the physical effects of running a marathon is to beat the hell out of some new muscle groups.  my pecs, my arms, my quads (in a way different from the agony of post-marathon quad pain), and my armpits are aching to help me forget my legs and hip and foot soreness from grandma's.  voila!

good ripped arms are so helpful in running a marathon

but back to the nitty gritty.  i was still trucking along at mile 10.  was bolstered by scarfing down my peanut butter and jelly.   ah sweet calories to return the pep in my step, the fun in my run.  but not too much pep.  i had to carefully control my pep.   i had to maintain my prescribed paces and shifting into mile 11 meant i had to quicken my stepping a bit from the 10:30 minute miles of easy peasy lemon squeezy miles 1-10, to the 10:15 minute miles of miles 11-20.   maintaining paces to run MY RACE and follow my plan for my goal time was an immense mental  and physical challenge.

mapping out my nutrition and pace plan

that's a fluffy was to say it was so fucking hard to keep those paces consistent.   sometimes my running would slow by a few seconds, but i didn't notice it until i saw the same butt-crack lady i had already passed five minutes ago come past me again.  what the butt!?!   where'd she come from?  and so i'd check my garmin and damned if i wasn't running at 10:45 or some such nonsense.    egad, how long had i been running slow?   slowing down wasn't an option because i had learned from my sensei that a few seconds slower from my planned paces could add up to 8 or 9 GASP unexpected minutes tacked on by the end of a marathon.  i had a 4:30 marathon goal.   i'm allergic to math but the clear message was "it's delicate" and so i told myself don't screw it up by stopping to smell the roses or standing in a poop line.

try as i might, slowing happened sometimes.  sometimes i would slow down because my body was feeling depleted and i recognized it and so i would contort my arm around my back, fumble around idiotically, and finally pull a GU out of my 'basket' ahahhahahhaha still laughing about the shrimp cocktail quip!!   after eating the GU i'd almost immediately feel lighter with each step.  GUs were gross but effective in giving me the energy i needed to keep up those paces and make some time up when necessary.  magic GU.  

long about mile 11.5,  as i was dabbing the sweat off my face with these fabulous sponges the volunteers handed out at many of the odd numbered miles, i was well aware the PB&J was sufficient to move my bowels to the finish line of my intestine.  i had been feeling some 'movement' for a few miles but there was no way i was going to stop at a porta potty and wait in the ridiculous lines i saw others waiting in, while only 3, 4, 5 people deep, i was not wasting any amount of time in a line.  i had a goal time to reach dammit!   so, the minutes standing in line were not in my future.  but a big poop was.  i realized much earlier that i didn't think to pack toilet paper.  crap.  literally and figuratively.  i could hope for the best which would be a one-wiper, but what am i going to wipe with?  i went through the contents of my basket.   gu wrappers are similar to the material used to house ranch dressing at mcdonald's, thicker and less bendy, so not at the top of the list of options.  the baggie from my PB&J quickly moved to the forefront in wiping choices.  

here is my good karma.  i had a decent wiping option of the two baggies because i couldn't force myself to throw any item i packed onto the ground.  i couldn't litter.    the one corner piece of GU wrapper that i had spit out on the ground was a curse of all curses for a whole ridiculous mile.  i never litter in my non-running or running life.  seems like everyone threw their wrappers and garbage on the road during the marathon.  a little before mile 3 when i ate my first GU i spit the ripped corner of the packet on the ground and after squeezing the GU into my mouth, i then grappled with throwing the empty packet on the ground.  i wanted to because i didn't want to have to pack all the garbage in my basket.  i still had it in my hand while i entered the water station at mile 3.  i grabbed water, thanked the volunteer, she said "thanks for running!" how cool is that!!! and as i was drinking my water i was thinking "am i throwing this water cup on the road?"  and i made my decision quickly because i still had to grab 2 cups of powerade as well at that stop.  decision made:  i'd carry out any trash i packed in, and i could throw the marathon-provided trash on the ground.   i rationalized the dichotomy in my head and off i went.  i said out loud "good little camper" and i vowed to volunteer at a marathon someday and be a clean-up-the-cups broomer.    i did try to make a few baskets into the trash cans that were not conveniently placed, but was woefully off my basketball game during the marathon.

but like i said earlier, i did run a ridiculous mile with guilt of that stupid corner wrapper that i spit out before knowing what i was doing.  god that thing haunted me until something else popped into my head to keep me occupied.

so that's why i had the empty baggies for wiping.  good karma for not littering.  ain't life grand.  now, where to do the deed?  how much privacy do i require?  do i require frontal or rear privacy?  from runners or from home owners?  or both?  tall order.  lots of questions, no real time to ponder them as i had a turtle poking it's head out.   find some place to take a shit and fast.  or i'm going to be one of those shitting-her-pants-during-a-marathon statistics and that was my worst nightmare.   yes my aunt carol calls me "brownie" because i shit my pants when i was a kid on an airplane while she was escorting me to my dad's for the summer on a rinky-dink plane.  but i was little and it wasn't totally out of the realm of possibility for kids to shit themselves.

but now i'm big and i once googled imaged "shit self during marathon" and there were pictures of people running that had shit themselves and just kept on running. i certainly hoped i could be lucky enough to spot a runner during the race that had made this decision but  i made a promise to myself that i would take the time to STOP to poop if i had to go.  there was no question.  i will pee myself while running as in my first half, but i draw the line at shitting myself.   i do have some standards.

suddenly i saw my perfect location!  location location location!  i trotted to the side of the road and OH MY GOD there is a sponge on the shoulder of the road.  oh happy day!  a sponge!!   why didn't i think of that sooner?  or at least when i had MY sponge in my hand.   but i don't sweat the small stuff, so  i scooped it up and speeded up to my locale.  time was of the essence.  yes i used some person's sponge that had been on the ground to wipe my butt.  you can only judge me if you've run a marathon.  and yes my prayers were answered as it was a one-wiper.  and yes my huge pile of poo, and i'm talking strangely huge, circled around itself like a long coiled snake and had flare at the top like a dairy queen soft serve cone.  i just stared at it for a second or two.

  it was the ONLY time during my run that  i wished i had worn my spi-belt in order to have my iphone with so i could snap a picture of this poop of mine.  it honestly looked majestic and this was my first inkling of how my whole outlook on life will change from starting and finishing a marathon.  what i didn't know then was that when i cross the grandma's marathon finish line,  everything i see, touch, taste, smell, hear  from that point forward, will be amplified in awesomeness.  and it all started with an enormous pile of poop.



PART FOUR: the finale.

I don’t know what It means exactly to ‘hit the wall’. If i had hit the wall it would have been so glaringly obvious that I was hitting the wall that I wouldn’t have any doubt. I picture myself on the road flat as a pancake unable to move, if I hit the wall. My face would have been smushed up against the pavement just inches away from someone else's "used" sponge and there would be no question i had hit the wall (i threw my sponge down on the ground rayshele!! that's what i did with my poop sponge. i picked it up from the marathon supplies, so i had permission to discard it. i wasn't about to pack my poopy sponge in my shirt basket. i'm not THAT gross) (and heather-- unfortunately there were many "deposits" in peoples yards along that route. i imagine that's why those out-in-the-country residents weren't out cheering for us runners, they were inside cursing us for shitting in their yards.) so anyway, i just don’t think I did any wall hitting. this is Not to say that running the marathon was easy. Heavens to betsy it was the opposite. Running that marathon was by far the most difficult combination physical and mental challenge that I’ve ever encountered.

digging deep, really really deep.

My top 5 most proud physical accomplishments include, in no particular order: #1 hiking into and climbing out of the grand canyon with alan, #2 getting the baton to run 4th leg of the 1600 meter relay and coming from way behind to dramatically win that race for our team (the DQ heard round the world, don’t even get me started!), #3 sprinting the last 3 miles of my one and only 10k race and wanting to die the whole time (at that moment i told myself death would have been better than continuing to run that race faster) as i was trying to catch up to robin durkin who was somewhere ahead of me, #4 building our brick payshio with alan and brett, #5 hauling all the building materials a half mile down a grassy road on our backs and then building our big capin from scratch with alan and our buddies aaron, heather, and kevin.

each of those 5 physical accomplishments were grueling and sweaty but with each of them i had a buddy going through it with me. cases in point:

#1 with the strength he had left, alan laughed heartily at the following half-joke after we were 2 hours removed from food and had eaten our last rationed tic tacs. we still had an hour of climbing (i was terribly out of shape back then) when i saw a day hiker trotting happily down the Grand Canyon sloppily eating a king sized snickers bar, with crumbs falling from his face left and right, and i said to alan "i would x his x for the rest of that snickers right now".

#2 i had 3 relay mates cheering me on to run that 400 meter dash faster, faster, faster so i could pass the girl in first place (and one teammate excitedly jumping up and down flailing her hands all about along the track as i passed into first with 50 meters left to the finish line--thus the bogus "pacing" call on our team for the disqualification--oops i said don't even get me started!!!)

#3 where is robin durkin? where is durk? i didn't know where she started in that WOMEN ROCK 10k race and i didn't even know if she had finished already while i was still running, but i knew the only way i had a chance to catch her was to run like the wind. so i ignited my turbo boosters and kicked it down into high gear to find her. for 3 miles. good god that was incredibly hard and i wanted to quit so many times. but i had robin to catch. i couldn't give up until i found her, hopefully still running on the road. i had robin in that race.

#4 i didn't dig down several feet, heave shovel after shovel full of sand and whatnot, measure measure measure and cut, and then lay bricks in the 90 degree july heat and humidity and mosquitoes by myself for a week.. alan and brett were grunting and sweating right there along with me.

#5 WHAT?!?!? we can't DRIVE down this long-ass road to get to our property where we are building this damn Y2K capin?! we have to carry every piece of lumber down this long-ass road? but i wasn't carrying that freaking wood by myself, al and my pals were cursing right along with me.

but i was all on my lonesome during Mile 18 of the marathon. and i still had mile 21 coming up which was my biggest worry. not because i had only run a 20 miler as my longest run up to this point. i had no doubt at all i could finish this marathon. i was still feeling physically very strong at mile 18. i knew i was running well, i was smiling, i was thanking volunteers, i was taking the time to eat, i was drinking water and that nasty-ass powerade, i was keeping my paces, i was doing it all according to plan. and my body was thanking me for following my training plan, for following my running coach todd's training advice and instructions, my body was thanking me by continuing to put one foot in front of the other without much in the way of aches or pains. giddyup this is awesome!! BUT ...

mile 21!! agh! mile 21 was such a looming thought in my head.. i was worried about it because at the start of mile 21 i had to kick er down into high gear. at mile 21 i would reach the start of my 6.2 mile race that i had just run 20 miles to get to. i knew i could very easily keep up these 10:15minute miles for the rest of the marathon. i also knew this damn race should end at mile 20!!!! why should i have to get to mile 21?! it's going to be SO FUCKING HARD.

but, if i didn't run as fast as possible for the final 6.2 miles i knew i would HAVE to run another marathon. i would have no choice. i couldn't leave anything on the road. it's a race, not a training run. when i pay good money to run, i'm going for broke. and, if i didn't run my fastest... i couldn't end my marathon story on june 22. and as good as i felt running while i was on mile 18, i already had told myself, "don't sign up for another! you couldn't garden, or drink beer this spring because you were always running or planning a run or thinking about running. you had to wear crocs. you gave up bootcamp. you are doing this once". So that was it, i was going to run as fast as i could starting at mile 21. i was running for radish and corona and flip flops.

trust my training. everything i need is within me. i am a racer. make it count.

WHERE IS MY MOM? WHERE IS MY SISTER RAQUEL? WHERE THE HELL IS ALAN? mile 19. i was all alone running, but i had them to look forward to seeing. they had made big heads so i knew they would be easy to spot. but where the hell were they? i checked my watch because i knew they were meeting at 10am and then heading to some location to cheer me. we didn't make a plan about which mile they'd be at because we figured when there were 3 of them, it's harder to keep a schedule and i didn't want to be disappointed by them not being somewhere they were supposed to be. BUT NOW I REALLY NEEDED TO SEE THEM. i needed to know i was loved. and that's what thinking about seeing them felt like... when i saw them cheering for me, when i heard their voices, i would be loved. i needed to be loved in order to run 6.2 fast miles.

by my calculations, it was far enough past 10 am that i should be seeing them soon or earlier! i thought about ann lemke. she said she'd be on the course cheering her family and maybe see me. oh, please, ann lemke show yourself! i needed to see raquel, my mom, and alan and hug them so badly. i would hug ann lemke if need be, but i preferred my family. i needed to hug them because i figured they were well rested. full of energy. full of smiles and pep in their step. full of happiness. full of everything i needed to have before i started mile 21. when i hugged them i would be receiving all of that from each of them. it would be a sweaty mess of a hug and they would not squirm because they'd be so happy to see me running a god damned marathon. i would nestle my head into the crook of their necks (well not alan's he's too tall) but my mom and sister would have me nuzzling up to them and i'd say i love you and thank you for being here and i would squeeze them so tightly and they would share all of their positivity and lightness and energy into my body and into my mind.

i started obsessing about seeing them. i scanned each crowd for their big heads. at one point i let myself start to think, what if i never see them? what if they just keep missing me, or one of them is hurt, or they run out of gas? what if I run out of gas??? but i shook those crappy thoughts quickly because "this is alan you're talking about, greta!! there is no way you won't see his big tall gorgeous head! (plus, you are the sun the moon and the stars to him.. and he will move heaven and earth to support you as you run this marathon girl!) so stop worrying! just keep running, they'll be here". i didn't really say all the new age bullshit in parenthesis to myself, but i did remind myself that no matter what obstacle was put in his way, my guy macguyver would solve it and be there when i needed him.

after i would hug alan, i made a plan to immediately have alan reach into my basket on the back of my shirt and get all the GU wrappers and empty baggies out of there. i was done packing all that shit and wanted to be light as possible going into the home stretch.

ok. so i had my plan: sweaty loving hugs, neck nestling, energy receiving touches, garbage removal from alan, and a big kiss to keep me going. now show yourselves!!

mile 19.5-- yahoo! there is alan's big head! ahahhahhahhahahahahhahhahahahahhah! i was elated! i think i may have skipped over to him! hug, kiss, garbage removal. hug, kiss, energy transfer. there's my mom and my sister!!! holy shit i have never been so happy to see people in all my stinkin life i swear to god!!! (side note- i have no idea how people run marathons without loved ones cheering for them during the race, i could not have done it without them.) hug my mom, hug my sister, i love you i love you! more energy transfers yay!!!! i felt like i was floating. i expected the crowd around us to burst into tears of joy and laughter with the outpouring of happiness i was emitting onto my dearly loved ones. and then i merrily ran on.

my big head possy

my biggest supporters!

now i had what i needed. everything i need is within me... and though it wasn't depleted, my family filled my love tank back up to the full line. I WAS READY!! come at me mile 21! i'm going to make it count! woohoooo!!!! here it is, mile marker 21. let's do this!! and i took off faster. it didn't take too long before i knew i had to still pace myself as i'm not going to be sprinting 6.2 miles.

mile 23-24. i was still addicted to checking my garmin even though my instructions were to try to run by feel and just haul ass on the last stretch. i felt myself slowing a bit so i checked my garmin which made me speed up and stay speeded up. it was really a struggle to go faster. i thought it would be easier. in my fantasy world it was much easier and i was really sprinting! in my fantasy i was running 9 min miles, creeping toward 8 minute miles. in the real life of my marathon, i was using every ounce of mental and physical energy to make my body move that fast. my legs want to slow down or lay down. but i kept running. and running. and running. near the end of mile 24 or so we hit cobblestones and i kicked myself for not studying the map of the final miles. but since i didn't, i was in the dark about which streets were a signal we were close to finish line. but at cobblestone, i felt like that must be close to the finish line so i dug deep and ran faster. i was passing people left and right! i wanted to encourage them, but i had no voice.

oh fuck. this is hard! mile 25. my clip was even faster. i'm not looking at my garmin anymore. who cares? last time i checked i was couldn't make sense of the numbers anymore, was i delusional with fatigue?? and i had no idea where the god damned finish line was. every time i rounded a corner i thought the finish line must be around the next corner. but it kept moving! where the hell is the finish line???? for christ's sake you crowdies, stop yelling you're almost there!!! you must never ever again shout to a runner "you're almost there!" if the finish line is any farther than .2 away. every time someone shouted "you're almost there!" i kicked it down even faster and i ended up doing that for 2.2 bloody miles! but it worked guess, because i was going even faster.

passing more runners and walkers. running a negative split was in my plan, which means to run the second half faster than the first half. and i was doing it! i had followed my nutrition plan and my pace plan and i was running a negative split in my first marathon ever! i already felt like a champion because i was running negative split. but i knew i had to clock some sub 10 minute miles to get there in 4:30 and i was running out of time. i just felt like i was going as fast as i could though. ugh.

ugh.  make it stop.

mile 26. as i was passing all the Main Street shops in the down town area, i was feeling myself slow down a bit. but i had no faster speed in me. i said a mantra. nothing. i said another mantra. shit, i'm still slowing. then i saw this woman on the corner and she looked right into my eyes and i stared her down, i suppose my eyes begging for mercy or a stretcher or help of some kind. and she shouted "YOU TRAINED FOR THIS!"

holy crap! she was right! i trained for this! it was exactly what i needed to hear at exactly the right moment. "i love you lady!!" i whimpered, eking out a big thank you smile in her direction. but i was also suddenly overcome with emotion and i started crying while i was smiling and i was feeling my head get super full of powerful feelings. flashing through my mind were my training runs, planning my calendar, making tough decisions, devoting my free time to running... all of it came rushing to the forefront of my mind and i was all of a sudden completely in love with marathon training again!! my grin was ear to ear!!! i was so happy in that moment.. knowing I TRAINED FOR THIS and now I'M RUNNING A MARATHON!

freezing, icy 7am saturday morning winter training runs

speed work on the tready in the winter

i thought i could just let myself cry, let all these wonderful feelings out, enjoy this moment of clarity and then haul ass some more. but i was wrong. because as i was smiling and crying and breathing so heavy from running so fast, i started to hyperventilate. that hadn't happened to me before so i didn't know what it was at first. did i get shot?? is someone removing the oxygen from the earth? but then i recognized it as hyperventilating and immediately i pulled it all back in. i pulled back every emotion and straight-faced it. i did not want to finish this marathon with a brown paper sack on my head. so, i vowed: no more letting myself cry. no more emoting. quit having overwhelming emotions!!! let it out when you're done running. get moving! it's for the best, you are a racer. you trained for this. now race!

i went around a hundred more corners, passed a gazillion more fellow runners, saw a big blue balloon thing that i thought MUST be the finish line (nope), and just kept running as fast as i could until finally, i was finishing a marathon!!!

i did it!

no one told me not to stop my garmin or it ruins your finish line shot.  but since my garmin is like my best friend, i think it fitting i was giving her a little nudge as i crossed the finish line!

and i crossed that finish line running. i crossed that finish line thinking they need to mark things more at the end so i know where the god damned finish line is at. i crossed that finish line with a changed life. i am a marathoner. what i didn't know then was that every feeling i have from now on will be intensified. every decision i make will hold more gravity. every task or challenge i take on will be achievable because now i can do anything i set my mind to. i proved that, once and for all. i can do anything i decide, i just need a plan and a little help from my friends.

i was heaving and huffing and puffing and trying to catch my breath while walking to get my medal and get my race photo taken.. and then i saw alan and i was so proud. i did it. i dreamed a huge dream, a dream which was completely out of my realm of interest just 15 months prior. and i chased down that dream with alan's unwavering support. and now i had completed a marathon with a stellar time for anyone, much less a newbie runner.

i got a medal!

i have the best partner in the world. alan, thank you for believing in me and making sure i could train and focus on my goals. you support me, i support you.. i love our way of being.

i love you alan!

i have the best sister and mother in the world, raquel and mom, thank you for driving all the way to duluth that morning to cheer me, to hold me up, to pass me your fabulous energy. i hope you could feel my true gratitude when i happily bounded over to you like the easter bunny!

thanks for being there for my big moment!

i have the best running friend, mike, who makes me laugh at running club coffee hour, also likes to make lists, and is the person who talked me into trying out running in the first place. mike wouldn't take no for an answer and kept hounding me, over a few years, to go for a run. thank you for being persistent!

i have the absolute best marathon coach, todd, who coached me to the grandma's marathon starting line. todd's guidance over my 18 weeks of mary training (and many months previous of exercise and running friendship) helped me get to the starting line injury-free. he prepped me to be ready to run an enjoyable 26.2 which included a smart nutrition plan, a pacing plan that wouldn't injure or kill me, and the training to carry me to the finish line with a challenging goal time in mind. todd, thank you for taking interest in helping me in such a detailed and thorough way. i could not have accomplished this marathon experience without you.

after i finished, i spent about 15 minutes in exhaustion. which was mostly time spent waddling around slowly, pretty much held up by alan, while we looked around and finally found the gear bag line. i was feeling my legs hurting and my feet hurting as i stood in line to get my gear bag. that 5 minutes standing still was no bueno for my sore body. as alan grabbed my bag off my shoulder, i started to feel less exhausted. i started to perk up. i started to have energy. i caught a second wind, per se. oooh oooh there is my mom and raquel! more hugs! hip hip hooray! my mom was crying, i finally opened the vault and let out some tears while hugging my mom.

and then... i was on fire with energy!! holy cows, it was like someone wound me up and pumped me full of cocaine. i could not stop talking and telling stories from the marathon. my face was in a permanent smile. i felt like i was on stage and i was totally killing the crowd... well my sister was doubling over from laughing hysterically, my mom just moderately amused it seemed as i was telling some pretty gory stories, alan was smiling on the side letting me shine. it was verbal diarrhea-- i couldn't slow down and i could not have been happier. i will not go into detail here how that moment went because i am keeping those memories sacred with alan, raquel, and my mom. but that time after my marathon that i was fired up with the most powerful positive energy i've ever felt.. i will remember that forever.

if i am to describe what running a marathon means to me, or to describe how i feel now after finishing a marathon... it's simple ... i feel more alive than i ever have in my whole life.

here are the numbers, for those of you interested in this part:

26.5 miles ran according to my garmin
4:31:37 my garmin's time, and also grandma's official time, were exactly the same. this baffles me. how can granny measure 26.2, but my garmin says i ran 26.5 (and i did not start my garmin until i actually got across the start line which was about 10 minutes after the gun went off) but my garmin and gran ma ma's times were the same to the second. huh.

3116 calories burned
approximately 1800 calories eaten/drank while running

average pace over the marathon: 10:15
each mile time:
mile 1 10:27 (goal for miles 1-10 was 10:30 min miles)
mile 2 10:25
mile 3 10:43 (slower from first water stop, figuring out the lay of walking the water stop land)
mile 4 10:27
mile 5 10:27
mile 6 10:23
mile 7 10:25
mile 8 10:31
mile 9 10:44 (oops)
mile 10 10:11 (tried to make up for it)
mile 11 10:15 (goal for miles 11-20 was 10:15 min miles) nailed his one!
mile 12 10:34 (oops.)
mile 13 9:57 (tried to make up for it.)
mile 14 10:08
mile 15 10:09
mile 16 10:17
mile 17 10:42 (this mile had a banana stop, a strawberry stop. i grazed.)
mile 18 10:14
mile 19 10:03
mile 20 10:23
mile 21 9:57 (speedy gonzales!)
mile 22 10:03
mile 23 10:11
mile 24 10:18
mile 25 9:34 (yah baby!)
mile 26 9:25 (smokin!)
last .49 of a mile 4:33

this marathoner is signing off,
til next time,
greta

the morning after.  i slept in my medal of course!