My heart was racing and my breathing was fast. The sound of running footsteps echoed behind me in the dimly lit tunnel. I kept running. I had to get out of there! I felt clammy as the heat began to rise within me. The slow upward climb was wearing me out. My breaths quickened as I scanned the view up ahead. The uniformed border patrol agents were lining the walls…I counted four. “Keep running,” I thought to myself.
What kind of trouble had I gotten myself into? I began to feel the cool breeze waft into the tunnel and sensed some light coming from around the corner. I kept running, anticipating the end. I just had to get out of the stagnant heat swarming around me. Run faster!
Was I in some kind of trouble?
Ha. No. I was actually participating in my first half-marathon, running through the tunnel from Canada into the United States. It runs under the Detroit River between Windsor and Detroit and is heavily guarded on both sides. At the end of this mile, I completed mile 8 of my 13.1 mile journey. I was coming into the home stretch, but who knew how this story would end.
Let me take you back to the beginning…
It was dark when I woke up at 4:15 in the morning. As usual, I was a ball of nerves. I poured myself a cup of coffee and made some toast while I cooked my instant oatmeal in the microwave. I had just enough time to eat, fill a water bottle and grab a banana when we had to leave. My husband was shuttling myself and two of my training buddies downtown to the main event. While I nervously waited in the backseat, my girlfriend French- braided my hair on each side, leaving the ends loose, like pony tails. To me, it was styled just like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz! (Except my hair is blonde.) Kind of fitting, since I felt like I was definitely entering a strange, unknown world. We pinned on our bib numbers and headed over to the Start line. It was still dark, but there were lights illuminating the massive scaffolding that was set up. We played around with some famous Detroit mascots, including Paws (for the Tigers) Roarie (for the Lions) and Hooper (for the Pistons), took some silly photos and then decided to head down towards the corrals. There were runners everywhere...stretching, eating, walking around, and chatting with their families. They wore looks of determination, looks of joy, and looks of anxiousness. Once we got to our designated area, we decided to re-fuel ourselves and we dove into the snacks we had packed. I don’t know where they thought we were going…a picnic perhaps? The two girls I traveled with had pulled out sandwiches! Peanut butter sandwiches! Too bad I’m deathly allergic. Seriously, I am. I stayed upwind. I didn’t think to pack my epi-pen, and a trip to the medical tent was not on my agenda for the day.
As the corrals got more and more crowded, I became more and more nervous. My two friends were discussing race strategy, how fast they wanted to start, what pace group they were going to try to stick with and such. Meanwhile, I was feeling overwhelmed. I wanted to start with my friends, but I knew I couldn’t run as fast as them. You see, for me, this race is the celebration and anniversary of my one year of running. A year ago, I couldn’t run two blocks. But with the help of my friends, (and losing almost 50 pounds), over this past year I went from being a non-runner, to being able to run one mile in about 13 ½ minutes, to being able to run 10 miles in about 120 minutes. My goal for this half-marathon was simply to run farther than I ever had, to finish it in 2 hours and 35 minutes, and ENJOY the course. All of sudden, I could sense all of the nervous energy around me… Combined with my own fears and anxiety, and listening to my friend’s talk of strategy, I felt a year’s worth of emotion well up inside of me as I stood there in the dark, shoulder to shoulder with thousands of other runners.
I felt I wouldn’t live up to my own expectations. Or to my friends'. Or to my family’s. This honestly, was quite silly and irrational, because of course, they didn’t have any such expectations of me. They were proud of me no matter what. But the pressure I had put on myself and all of the hard work I had done to get to this point was flooding through me, boiling over and releasing fear. A lump started in my throat and I was quiet. I’m sure my face reflected the panic and stress that I was feeling. My friend (who had trained me all year) looked at me with concern. “I’ve never seen you like this before,” she said. “You’ve never been like this before a race.” I shook my head and blinked my eyes as the tears started to flow.
“I just don’t think I can keep up,” I managed to squeak out. I flipped my sunglasses down over my eyes as the tears began streaming down my face. Sure, it was still pitch dark, but I didn’t care. The sunglasses hid the fear, shame and tears that escaped my eyes. Both of my running buddies instantly poured out words of encouragement and hugs and told me to just take one mile at a time. “Forget about numbers!” they said as I tried to look away and hide my tears. Easy for them to say! That’s all everyone was murmuring about as we stood there, anxiously waiting for the start of the race. I was glad I had the sunglasses to hide my eyes. I didn’t want all those other runners thinking I was some sissy. This was serious business! PRs to be made! Goals to be achieved! Yet, it was also supposed to be a celebration. A celebration of how far I had come. Never in a million years would I have thought I could do this…yet here I was, about to try. I was scared. And happy. And nervous. And anxious… I got over my tears quickly and decided to eat my pre-race energy chews. It was time to shake this off. I’d run through the start with my friends, and hopefully not get trampled by the other (most-likely faster) runners behind me. Footprints up my back were not something I wanted to experience. I took a few steadying breaths and pushed my sunglasses back up onto my head so I could see more clearly as we began to walk up towards our starting position. You could literally feel the energy in the air.
And then the horn blared and we were off. I ran ahead with look a fierce determination on my face. The crowd was cheering and we were flying. And then I began to smile. I was running! I ran near my buddies for the first mile and then they began to slowly pull ahead. I grinned in appreciation and gave them the “thumbs up” as they kept turning around with encouraging smiles for me. At mile 2, I saw my family and friends cheering wildly and I knew this was it. This was my moment. This was my time. I high-fived them all as I went by, and vowed to suck in all of the positive energy I could. From that point on, I ran my own race. I was alone, but in the midst of a massive ball of energy. Sure, I was running with 20,000 other people, but we were all running our own race. I finally let the numbers go. I let the pace go. I was going to push my limits and run to another country and back, and I was going to give it 110%. Whatever my pace was, whether I walked, or not, I was going to be thankful that I made it this far. I was going to use every ounce of strength and every strand of muscle I had earned over the past year.
I began my uphill climb over the Ambassador Bridge and pulled out my video camera. (Yes, even in my fogged-out, stress-filled state of mind, I was determined to carry my small Sony Webbie-Cam, which is Sony’s version of the FLIP camera.) I tried to shoot a few still pictures and took a short video, then laughed out loud because the camera was shaking so much while I ran. I took time to look around me while I ran over the bridge and then I remembered that a water station would be coming up soon. I knew I wanted to stay properly fueled and I knew I was running faster than I had ever trained at. As I headed down from the bridge, I stripped off my gloves and chucked them to the side of the road. Then I reached for my GU packet and tore it open. (GU is an energy gel that’s kind of like a thin frosting.) Sweet and packed full of nutrients, I squeezed the caramel-flavored, gooey energy into my mouth as I kept running.
I came up to the fluid station and took in all of the sights. People were everywhere, waving the red and white maple-leaf flag. I was in Canada! Who’d a thought I’d run to Canada?!? I walked through my water break (about 20 seconds) and glanced at my watch. I had run almost four miles. Whoa. This can’t be right. Am I really running that fast? I just ran up and over the Ambassador Bridge for Christ’s sake! I didn’t feel too tired.
Yet.
Running along the Detroit River, again, I just tried to enjoy the view. I was feeling a bit tired, but I knew my GU would kick into action and help fuel up my jets. It was a gloomy, drizzly day, and there was a chill in the air, but I felt good.
As I headed through the streets of Windsor, I realized, I couldn’t run alone anymore. If I was going to run this fast, I needed to pull as much energy as I could from whatever source was available to me. I remembered how I felt when I passed my family at mile 2 and I cut over to the side of the street where all the spectators stood. Some cheered; some held signs for loved ones. Some stood there, silently watching the thousands of feet run by.
So what that I didn’t know them, and they didn’t know me! They were there, cheering us on…even in their silence. I started letting out hoots and hollers and I threw up my hand for high-fives as I ran near them. Many of them smiled, laughed, yelled and cheered me on. I thanked them, screamed “Woohoo!” and kept on running. I absorbed every ounce of it. I sucked in deep breaths and felt a renewed charge surge through my legs. I pushed onward and felt my nerves electrified and full of anticipation as I approached the tunnel heading back to Detroit. Everyone had told me it was hot and stinky and not fun. I was preparing for the worst as I trudged down into the dimly lit tunnel.
That’s when once I again, I flipped open my video camera. I didn’t want to impede runners behind me, so I only filmed for about 20 seconds, but I was glad I did. You can hear the excitement in my voice and in all of the runners around me as I entered the tunnel. People were randomly shouting, and the sound of the thunderous footsteps and breathing and cheers from the pace groups I was sandwiched between were echoing off the closed-in space. It was fun! I was headed down hill and felt like I was picking up steam. It was here that I first saw her.
It was a runner who had a photograph and a dedication on her back. She was running in memory of a Captain who had been killed in action this very month. I kept pace behind her for a while and stared at the picture of the fallen soldier who died serving me. Serving my family and serving my country. I was running. He would never run again. There is much I have to be thankful for. My loved ones were here…cheering me on. I felt some tears roll down my cheeks, but this time, I wasn’t ashamed of my watering eyes. I let them fall. It made me feel grateful.
Then, all of the runners seemed to be bunching up. Were we slowing down? My breathing became heavier and the air was thicker. Suddenly, I became very hot. I shoved my arm warmers down to my wrists, and I worked my way over to the wall so I could slow down a bit. (It seemed like the walkers tried to keep to the sides, so I obliged and moved out of the way of faster runners.) Why couldn’t I breathe? It was humid. (Duh. We were under water.) I slowed down a bit and decided to walk a few strides to catch my breath. After a few seconds of walking, I picked up my pace again and pushed on. It was a slow, uphill climb now. Will this mile ever end? Ugh.
We were like sardines, crammed in a tiny little can, all squiggling and wiggling to get the hell out. I tried to look ahead as I listened to the grumbling of the runners around me. Everyone seemed to be feeling the heat and stress of the uphill climb. I saw the border patrol agents ahead and I heard the sound of the wind.
Wind?
Air! I knew I would be feeling fresh air in a matter of seconds and I couldn’t wait to get to it. I ran and ran and ran. I burst out of the tunnel and a blast of cold air hit me in the face. There was a cheering crowd lining the path and a huge banner that read, “Welcome to the U.S.A.” Runners reached up and tapped it as they ran under it. I did too. It felt wonderful to be out of that hot, crowded, echoing, thunderous tunnel. I glanced at my watch as I hit the mat…10:08. The longest mile in the race so far, and I ran it in about 10 minutes! It had been four miles since my last GU packet, so I reached back for another one with eagerness. This one was going to be mint chocolate. It was like candy to me. Why didn’t anyone tell me you get to eat candy while you run? I would have started running much sooner! I slowed down a bit this time and savored the chocolate goodness.
I focused on picking up my pace again but was feeling really tired. That’s when I saw the girl with the photo on her back again. I stared at it and focused and kept going. She seemed to be inching away from me, but I didn’t let it stop me. I kept pushing on. As I was nearing the end of mile 9, I knew I would be seeing my family again soon. They told me they would try to be somewhere around mile 10, and I wanted to look strong. I looked up ahead and saw the noodles. Yes, my family was waving around pool noodles. It was quite ingenious really. I could spot them from a huge distance. I crossed over to the other side of the road and flipped out my camera again. They were carrying on like crazy escapees from a mental hospital. Jumping up and down, waving their arms around, screaming, cheering, (My brother even called out, “You wanna sandwich??!”) And I loved every single second of it. I handed off my camera to my sister-in-law, gave my brother and husband a quick hug and took off running again with a smile plastered on my face.
That’s when it happened. Mile 10. I began to feel the twinge and ache in my left hip and left knee. I tried to push down the pain. As I neared mile 11, the tears began again. Not from the pain that was now piercing down my left side, but from the knowledge that I had never run this far.
Ever. In my life.
The pain was getting worse with each step I took and I felt myself sputtering out. I slowed to a walk and decided to take another GU. I told myself I was only walking while I took in the energy gel…but as I started back up, I cringed with each left footfall. Another fluid station was ahead, so I walked again and I tried to reason with myself that the pain wasn’t really that bad.
Each new mile was a mile I had never run before. As I slowly trudged on, I willed my body to relax…to be pain-free and to feel energy coming down from my arms. It seemed to work a little. And then I got a surprise.
At mile 12, I saw my husband again. I had no idea he would be there and he began to run beside me. He chanted words of encouragement, telling me I was doing great and to just keep going. It was as if a floodgate was opened, and with him there, I could let out all of the emotions from the day. “I’m going to cry,” I sputtered. “It’s okay,” he said, “You’re doing great!”
I began sobbing. I don’t mean silently letting tears fall (as I had three times already today)…I mean, I sobbed. I let out gasping breaths as I kept moving and I managed to say, “I hurt!” He just kept telling me to keep going. I needed his words to block my own negative thoughts. His encouragement seemed to drown out the thoughts in my head that screamed, “You’re tired! You’re hurt! You want to stop! Stop running!” I shed the tears and pushed faster. Realizing I couldn’t breathe and cry at the same time, I got my emotions under control and listened to his coaching.
I’m almost there.
And then I almost laughed at his wheezing, gasping breaths next to me. “You can stop running if you want,” I said. “I’m okay.”
“I’m fine.” He panted. The thoughtfulness of his gesture and silliness of him running in his fleece jacket, huffing and puffing next to me re-energized me. The road got narrower, and the crowds grew thicker, and I could sense the end was approaching. It was here that I remembered something my younger brother had said to me. He said, “Don't forget that somehow we always get one last kick of energy for the last tenth of a mile or so. It's true - it happens at every race!” My husband peeled off the side of the road and I took off like a rocket. In the distance, I heard my other brother cheering. I couldn’t see him, but I heard him shout. I heard the cheers from the other spectators and I saw the finish line and for those last two minutes or so, I didn’t feel any pain. I made my legs go faster. I don’t know how I did it… I just did it. I said I was going to give this race 110%...It was time for that extra 10%.
I crossed the finish line smiling, with my arms in the air. I did it! I just ran a half-marathon! As I slowed to a walk and got my medal and silvery, plastic space blanket, the day’s emotions had finally taken their toll. I was drained. I meandered along, shuffling down the chute thinking, “I have no idea where I’m going. My family will find me.” I shuffled along past the gear check point and must have looked like a wandering homeless person. I was shivering and clutching my space blanket for dear life. My left knee began to lock up and I realized I wasn’t bending my left leg anymore. I was hobbling along, hitching my hip and kind of dragging my foot around. I was afraid to stop walking. If I stopped, I wouldn’t be able to start again.
Finally, my husband found me and guided me into the family gathering area. I instantly spotted a massage tent. “I have to get one,” I told my husband. The girls who worked on me were like Angels! And that’s when my husband leaned down and told me the news.
“What was the time you wanted to hit?” he asked.
“2:35,” I mumbled face-down on the table. I had stopped looking at my watch after mile 9, and feeling like I was crawling through those last 3.1 miles, I had no idea what my finish time was.
“You blew it away,” he smiled. “2:16:54!” I smiled and felt pride swell. Oh geesh. I couldn’t cry again! Don’t worry, this time I didn’t. I was out of tears. Only happy smiles washed over my face. As my angels finished and I was able to move once again, I slid off the table and felt a little better. I wrapped myself in my silver space blanket and we headed to the car.
What a day! It was filled with more emotions than I ever thought a person could possibly experience in a mere few hours. My parents were hosting a post-marathon party later that day, so I knew there would be more moments of joy ahead. I later found out that I ran that last mile in about 7 minutes and 40 seconds. How I pulled that out of my hat, I’ll never know.
As I got ready to take a hot shower, I was sad to take out my Dorothy braids. I really did have an adventure to Oz today. I followed the road, and it led me to a playful lion (and tiger and horse – oh my!) and visions of wonderful city skylines, joyful cheers and songs, energizing feelings of strength, power and love and magical moments of gratefulness.
It took me one year, two pairs of running shoes, and 16 weeks of concentrated training, running 229 miles to get to 13.1. There were no rainbows, no flying monkeys and no ruby slippers…but I’ll gladly go back to that Land of Oz any day.
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What kind of trouble had I gotten myself into? I began to feel the cool breeze waft into the tunnel and sensed some light coming from around the corner. I kept running, anticipating the end. I just had to get out of the stagnant heat swarming around me. Run faster!
Was I in some kind of trouble?
Ha. No. I was actually participating in my first half-marathon, running through the tunnel from Canada into the United States. It runs under the Detroit River between Windsor and Detroit and is heavily guarded on both sides. At the end of this mile, I completed mile 8 of my 13.1 mile journey. I was coming into the home stretch, but who knew how this story would end.
Let me take you back to the beginning…
It was dark when I woke up at 4:15 in the morning. As usual, I was a ball of nerves. I poured myself a cup of coffee and made some toast while I cooked my instant oatmeal in the microwave. I had just enough time to eat, fill a water bottle and grab a banana when we had to leave. My husband was shuttling myself and two of my training buddies downtown to the main event. While I nervously waited in the backseat, my girlfriend French- braided my hair on each side, leaving the ends loose, like pony tails. To me, it was styled just like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz! (Except my hair is blonde.) Kind of fitting, since I felt like I was definitely entering a strange, unknown world. We pinned on our bib numbers and headed over to the Start line. It was still dark, but there were lights illuminating the massive scaffolding that was set up. We played around with some famous Detroit mascots, including Paws (for the Tigers) Roarie (for the Lions) and Hooper (for the Pistons), took some silly photos and then decided to head down towards the corrals. There were runners everywhere...stretching, eating, walking around, and chatting with their families. They wore looks of determination, looks of joy, and looks of anxiousness. Once we got to our designated area, we decided to re-fuel ourselves and we dove into the snacks we had packed. I don’t know where they thought we were going…a picnic perhaps? The two girls I traveled with had pulled out sandwiches! Peanut butter sandwiches! Too bad I’m deathly allergic. Seriously, I am. I stayed upwind. I didn’t think to pack my epi-pen, and a trip to the medical tent was not on my agenda for the day.
As the corrals got more and more crowded, I became more and more nervous. My two friends were discussing race strategy, how fast they wanted to start, what pace group they were going to try to stick with and such. Meanwhile, I was feeling overwhelmed. I wanted to start with my friends, but I knew I couldn’t run as fast as them. You see, for me, this race is the celebration and anniversary of my one year of running. A year ago, I couldn’t run two blocks. But with the help of my friends, (and losing almost 50 pounds), over this past year I went from being a non-runner, to being able to run one mile in about 13 ½ minutes, to being able to run 10 miles in about 120 minutes. My goal for this half-marathon was simply to run farther than I ever had, to finish it in 2 hours and 35 minutes, and ENJOY the course. All of sudden, I could sense all of the nervous energy around me… Combined with my own fears and anxiety, and listening to my friend’s talk of strategy, I felt a year’s worth of emotion well up inside of me as I stood there in the dark, shoulder to shoulder with thousands of other runners.
I felt I wouldn’t live up to my own expectations. Or to my friends'. Or to my family’s. This honestly, was quite silly and irrational, because of course, they didn’t have any such expectations of me. They were proud of me no matter what. But the pressure I had put on myself and all of the hard work I had done to get to this point was flooding through me, boiling over and releasing fear. A lump started in my throat and I was quiet. I’m sure my face reflected the panic and stress that I was feeling. My friend (who had trained me all year) looked at me with concern. “I’ve never seen you like this before,” she said. “You’ve never been like this before a race.” I shook my head and blinked my eyes as the tears started to flow.
“I just don’t think I can keep up,” I managed to squeak out. I flipped my sunglasses down over my eyes as the tears began streaming down my face. Sure, it was still pitch dark, but I didn’t care. The sunglasses hid the fear, shame and tears that escaped my eyes. Both of my running buddies instantly poured out words of encouragement and hugs and told me to just take one mile at a time. “Forget about numbers!” they said as I tried to look away and hide my tears. Easy for them to say! That’s all everyone was murmuring about as we stood there, anxiously waiting for the start of the race. I was glad I had the sunglasses to hide my eyes. I didn’t want all those other runners thinking I was some sissy. This was serious business! PRs to be made! Goals to be achieved! Yet, it was also supposed to be a celebration. A celebration of how far I had come. Never in a million years would I have thought I could do this…yet here I was, about to try. I was scared. And happy. And nervous. And anxious… I got over my tears quickly and decided to eat my pre-race energy chews. It was time to shake this off. I’d run through the start with my friends, and hopefully not get trampled by the other (most-likely faster) runners behind me. Footprints up my back were not something I wanted to experience. I took a few steadying breaths and pushed my sunglasses back up onto my head so I could see more clearly as we began to walk up towards our starting position. You could literally feel the energy in the air.
And then the horn blared and we were off. I ran ahead with look a fierce determination on my face. The crowd was cheering and we were flying. And then I began to smile. I was running! I ran near my buddies for the first mile and then they began to slowly pull ahead. I grinned in appreciation and gave them the “thumbs up” as they kept turning around with encouraging smiles for me. At mile 2, I saw my family and friends cheering wildly and I knew this was it. This was my moment. This was my time. I high-fived them all as I went by, and vowed to suck in all of the positive energy I could. From that point on, I ran my own race. I was alone, but in the midst of a massive ball of energy. Sure, I was running with 20,000 other people, but we were all running our own race. I finally let the numbers go. I let the pace go. I was going to push my limits and run to another country and back, and I was going to give it 110%. Whatever my pace was, whether I walked, or not, I was going to be thankful that I made it this far. I was going to use every ounce of strength and every strand of muscle I had earned over the past year.
I began my uphill climb over the Ambassador Bridge and pulled out my video camera. (Yes, even in my fogged-out, stress-filled state of mind, I was determined to carry my small Sony Webbie-Cam, which is Sony’s version of the FLIP camera.) I tried to shoot a few still pictures and took a short video, then laughed out loud because the camera was shaking so much while I ran. I took time to look around me while I ran over the bridge and then I remembered that a water station would be coming up soon. I knew I wanted to stay properly fueled and I knew I was running faster than I had ever trained at. As I headed down from the bridge, I stripped off my gloves and chucked them to the side of the road. Then I reached for my GU packet and tore it open. (GU is an energy gel that’s kind of like a thin frosting.) Sweet and packed full of nutrients, I squeezed the caramel-flavored, gooey energy into my mouth as I kept running.
I came up to the fluid station and took in all of the sights. People were everywhere, waving the red and white maple-leaf flag. I was in Canada! Who’d a thought I’d run to Canada?!? I walked through my water break (about 20 seconds) and glanced at my watch. I had run almost four miles. Whoa. This can’t be right. Am I really running that fast? I just ran up and over the Ambassador Bridge for Christ’s sake! I didn’t feel too tired.
Yet.
Running along the Detroit River, again, I just tried to enjoy the view. I was feeling a bit tired, but I knew my GU would kick into action and help fuel up my jets. It was a gloomy, drizzly day, and there was a chill in the air, but I felt good.
As I headed through the streets of Windsor, I realized, I couldn’t run alone anymore. If I was going to run this fast, I needed to pull as much energy as I could from whatever source was available to me. I remembered how I felt when I passed my family at mile 2 and I cut over to the side of the street where all the spectators stood. Some cheered; some held signs for loved ones. Some stood there, silently watching the thousands of feet run by.
So what that I didn’t know them, and they didn’t know me! They were there, cheering us on…even in their silence. I started letting out hoots and hollers and I threw up my hand for high-fives as I ran near them. Many of them smiled, laughed, yelled and cheered me on. I thanked them, screamed “Woohoo!” and kept on running. I absorbed every ounce of it. I sucked in deep breaths and felt a renewed charge surge through my legs. I pushed onward and felt my nerves electrified and full of anticipation as I approached the tunnel heading back to Detroit. Everyone had told me it was hot and stinky and not fun. I was preparing for the worst as I trudged down into the dimly lit tunnel.
That’s when once I again, I flipped open my video camera. I didn’t want to impede runners behind me, so I only filmed for about 20 seconds, but I was glad I did. You can hear the excitement in my voice and in all of the runners around me as I entered the tunnel. People were randomly shouting, and the sound of the thunderous footsteps and breathing and cheers from the pace groups I was sandwiched between were echoing off the closed-in space. It was fun! I was headed down hill and felt like I was picking up steam. It was here that I first saw her.
It was a runner who had a photograph and a dedication on her back. She was running in memory of a Captain who had been killed in action this very month. I kept pace behind her for a while and stared at the picture of the fallen soldier who died serving me. Serving my family and serving my country. I was running. He would never run again. There is much I have to be thankful for. My loved ones were here…cheering me on. I felt some tears roll down my cheeks, but this time, I wasn’t ashamed of my watering eyes. I let them fall. It made me feel grateful.
Then, all of the runners seemed to be bunching up. Were we slowing down? My breathing became heavier and the air was thicker. Suddenly, I became very hot. I shoved my arm warmers down to my wrists, and I worked my way over to the wall so I could slow down a bit. (It seemed like the walkers tried to keep to the sides, so I obliged and moved out of the way of faster runners.) Why couldn’t I breathe? It was humid. (Duh. We were under water.) I slowed down a bit and decided to walk a few strides to catch my breath. After a few seconds of walking, I picked up my pace again and pushed on. It was a slow, uphill climb now. Will this mile ever end? Ugh.
We were like sardines, crammed in a tiny little can, all squiggling and wiggling to get the hell out. I tried to look ahead as I listened to the grumbling of the runners around me. Everyone seemed to be feeling the heat and stress of the uphill climb. I saw the border patrol agents ahead and I heard the sound of the wind.
Wind?
Air! I knew I would be feeling fresh air in a matter of seconds and I couldn’t wait to get to it. I ran and ran and ran. I burst out of the tunnel and a blast of cold air hit me in the face. There was a cheering crowd lining the path and a huge banner that read, “Welcome to the U.S.A.” Runners reached up and tapped it as they ran under it. I did too. It felt wonderful to be out of that hot, crowded, echoing, thunderous tunnel. I glanced at my watch as I hit the mat…10:08. The longest mile in the race so far, and I ran it in about 10 minutes! It had been four miles since my last GU packet, so I reached back for another one with eagerness. This one was going to be mint chocolate. It was like candy to me. Why didn’t anyone tell me you get to eat candy while you run? I would have started running much sooner! I slowed down a bit this time and savored the chocolate goodness.
I focused on picking up my pace again but was feeling really tired. That’s when I saw the girl with the photo on her back again. I stared at it and focused and kept going. She seemed to be inching away from me, but I didn’t let it stop me. I kept pushing on. As I was nearing the end of mile 9, I knew I would be seeing my family again soon. They told me they would try to be somewhere around mile 10, and I wanted to look strong. I looked up ahead and saw the noodles. Yes, my family was waving around pool noodles. It was quite ingenious really. I could spot them from a huge distance. I crossed over to the other side of the road and flipped out my camera again. They were carrying on like crazy escapees from a mental hospital. Jumping up and down, waving their arms around, screaming, cheering, (My brother even called out, “You wanna sandwich??!”) And I loved every single second of it. I handed off my camera to my sister-in-law, gave my brother and husband a quick hug and took off running again with a smile plastered on my face.
That’s when it happened. Mile 10. I began to feel the twinge and ache in my left hip and left knee. I tried to push down the pain. As I neared mile 11, the tears began again. Not from the pain that was now piercing down my left side, but from the knowledge that I had never run this far.
Ever. In my life.
The pain was getting worse with each step I took and I felt myself sputtering out. I slowed to a walk and decided to take another GU. I told myself I was only walking while I took in the energy gel…but as I started back up, I cringed with each left footfall. Another fluid station was ahead, so I walked again and I tried to reason with myself that the pain wasn’t really that bad.
Each new mile was a mile I had never run before. As I slowly trudged on, I willed my body to relax…to be pain-free and to feel energy coming down from my arms. It seemed to work a little. And then I got a surprise.
At mile 12, I saw my husband again. I had no idea he would be there and he began to run beside me. He chanted words of encouragement, telling me I was doing great and to just keep going. It was as if a floodgate was opened, and with him there, I could let out all of the emotions from the day. “I’m going to cry,” I sputtered. “It’s okay,” he said, “You’re doing great!”
I began sobbing. I don’t mean silently letting tears fall (as I had three times already today)…I mean, I sobbed. I let out gasping breaths as I kept moving and I managed to say, “I hurt!” He just kept telling me to keep going. I needed his words to block my own negative thoughts. His encouragement seemed to drown out the thoughts in my head that screamed, “You’re tired! You’re hurt! You want to stop! Stop running!” I shed the tears and pushed faster. Realizing I couldn’t breathe and cry at the same time, I got my emotions under control and listened to his coaching.
I’m almost there.
And then I almost laughed at his wheezing, gasping breaths next to me. “You can stop running if you want,” I said. “I’m okay.”
“I’m fine.” He panted. The thoughtfulness of his gesture and silliness of him running in his fleece jacket, huffing and puffing next to me re-energized me. The road got narrower, and the crowds grew thicker, and I could sense the end was approaching. It was here that I remembered something my younger brother had said to me. He said, “Don't forget that somehow we always get one last kick of energy for the last tenth of a mile or so. It's true - it happens at every race!” My husband peeled off the side of the road and I took off like a rocket. In the distance, I heard my other brother cheering. I couldn’t see him, but I heard him shout. I heard the cheers from the other spectators and I saw the finish line and for those last two minutes or so, I didn’t feel any pain. I made my legs go faster. I don’t know how I did it… I just did it. I said I was going to give this race 110%...It was time for that extra 10%.
I crossed the finish line smiling, with my arms in the air. I did it! I just ran a half-marathon! As I slowed to a walk and got my medal and silvery, plastic space blanket, the day’s emotions had finally taken their toll. I was drained. I meandered along, shuffling down the chute thinking, “I have no idea where I’m going. My family will find me.” I shuffled along past the gear check point and must have looked like a wandering homeless person. I was shivering and clutching my space blanket for dear life. My left knee began to lock up and I realized I wasn’t bending my left leg anymore. I was hobbling along, hitching my hip and kind of dragging my foot around. I was afraid to stop walking. If I stopped, I wouldn’t be able to start again.
Finally, my husband found me and guided me into the family gathering area. I instantly spotted a massage tent. “I have to get one,” I told my husband. The girls who worked on me were like Angels! And that’s when my husband leaned down and told me the news.
“What was the time you wanted to hit?” he asked.
“2:35,” I mumbled face-down on the table. I had stopped looking at my watch after mile 9, and feeling like I was crawling through those last 3.1 miles, I had no idea what my finish time was.
“You blew it away,” he smiled. “2:16:54!” I smiled and felt pride swell. Oh geesh. I couldn’t cry again! Don’t worry, this time I didn’t. I was out of tears. Only happy smiles washed over my face. As my angels finished and I was able to move once again, I slid off the table and felt a little better. I wrapped myself in my silver space blanket and we headed to the car.
What a day! It was filled with more emotions than I ever thought a person could possibly experience in a mere few hours. My parents were hosting a post-marathon party later that day, so I knew there would be more moments of joy ahead. I later found out that I ran that last mile in about 7 minutes and 40 seconds. How I pulled that out of my hat, I’ll never know.
As I got ready to take a hot shower, I was sad to take out my Dorothy braids. I really did have an adventure to Oz today. I followed the road, and it led me to a playful lion (and tiger and horse – oh my!) and visions of wonderful city skylines, joyful cheers and songs, energizing feelings of strength, power and love and magical moments of gratefulness.
It took me one year, two pairs of running shoes, and 16 weeks of concentrated training, running 229 miles to get to 13.1. There were no rainbows, no flying monkeys and no ruby slippers…but I’ll gladly go back to that Land of Oz any day.
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