I started out strong. I was slapping people’s hands and shouting “Wooo!!!!!”, until people said, “Quit that. What are you doing? I can’t hear the race director.” Then, the guy said “go.” Trust me, if it wasn’t snowing, I wouldn’t have had a clue where to go. Luckily, at the back of the pack, I had plenty of people to follow.
I’m out walking around (some advice a friend gave me, because he said that otherwise, I’d seize up), so I went by the library to post a quick one.
First thing, there SO much to tell about this story, most of it funny. Secondly, I cannot believe it took just a minute shy of 7 HOURS to run the daggone thing. There are two ways I see this: one, I was slowed by snow, broken shoelaces, other issues that will be mentioned later, but two, what a feat of endurance separate to speed.
For the record, I think Richard gave me the advice to eat a huge pre-marathon LUNCH instead a huge supper. So, the company caf offerings were: fish sandwich, potato pancake, and gumbo. I had all three, chucking the bread from the fish sandwich. The gumbo was a bad idea. The rest was good.
I’m antsy, but I have to be, right? Every little ache is magnified. I feel like, “What if *that* little sore spot on my foot is going to erupt into something horrible?” I wonder about the back twang. My throat feels a little raw. You know, basically, everything’s okay, but I’m so hyper-aware that EVERYTHING feels wrong. Broken. Bent.
Richard mentioned that lots of people at the New York marathon complained of tunnel vision over the last few miles. I think I’m having the mental equivalent right now, but it’s of my choosing.
Inside my head, I’ve started a process to focus on how I’m going to complete this marathon. I’ve printed two pace bands that show my mile splits for VERY conservative race numbers. One’s a half hour slower than the other. I’ve started to build a few sentences together to remind me why I’m going to finish. I’m trying to carve them down to bare minimum words, so that they’re easy to remember.
For all of you who said I was taper crazy in my last post, it turns out there’s a real game that approximates what I was talking about. In fact, Tracy sent me that link and information on a wild bunch o’ folks. Read their game names. Man oh man. Here’s the best “official” site I could find. Harrier.net
I’m still sore in the back, but feeling slightly better. I did absolutely nothing this morning. I’m trying not to tempt it.
First, could all race directors check around and realize that ALL the races on or around Thanksgiving are called Turkey Trot or some such? C’mon… a little variety, folks!
Second, do you think it’d be fun to get a bunch of runners together in a small state park (i.e. lots of trails to run, but not so big that anyone could get lost) and have a MASSIVE game of team tag?
For all you experienced marathoners, did you have a weird feeling in the week leading up to your race that you were “boiling down” to a kind of stripped-down essence of all that you’d been doing?
I have this feeling. Part of it deals with twanging pains in my lower back six days (now five) before the race, but I have this sense of just stopping what I’ve been doing, getting inside my skull, and running the race several times in there.
This coming Saturday is my marathon.
I woke this morning at 4:34, headed out the door and hit the gym just after it opened. Mudvayne was blaring on the flatpanels everywhere (I didn’t know who they were, but appreciated the smashing music while lifting). I went through my weight routine, lunging with 50 pound dumbells, pressing the same overhead for shoulders, benching two 65 pound dumbells, and then rowing with 70s. I did my planks (bridges, others call them), my side ones, then that lower back thingy where you fall over the front of the machine and then come back up (know what I mean?) Then a repeat of it all, throwing in a deep low row to continue my efforts to turn my lats into giant king cobra shapes.