but the truth of it is that a runner wants to shout it to the world. It's a huge milestone for them and it is the climax and result of months of training and dedication to achieving this one event. Sure, to many it's hours of mind-numbing one-foot-in-front-of-the-other body-pounding boredom, for for those few dedicated souls it is a life changer.
It's been a couple years since I started running and after a few half marathons I thought that running at least one full marathon in my lifetime was one of the next goals on my bucket list. In order to figure out which race to do, I took to the internet and it wasn't long before I heard about the monstrosity of a medal earned at Little Rock: Retire the Finishers Medal? I was sold and only that much more convinced when I found out this year's race theme was super heroes. The medal was epic, literally, and almost as big as a dinner plate but twice as heavy.
My story really begins November 9th. It was the day I ran the South Carolina Spartan Beast. I was earning my Trifecta during over 12+ miles of hilly trails. If you've never heard of a Spartan Race, first of all come out from under that rock under which you've been living and check out Spartan Race. At the end of the race, you jump over fire and blast past pugil stick-wielding Spartans to finish the race. Well, I jumped but misjudged how wide the fire was, essentially catching my heel on a log and rolling my ankle. My finish was a dismal limping to the medic tent after crossing the finish line. Two days later I found out it was a two severe sprains. This all happened a day before my marathon training was supposed to begin....
For the next four weeks, I limped along in a walking boot, frustrated because I couldn't run. I felt like Igor as I hobbled along at my weekly Run Club meetings. I made it my goal to run a mile by Christmas and with the help of my brother's girlfriend (a physical therapist and runner) I was armed with the strength and resistance exercises I needed to rebuild my ankle day by day. By my birthday, December 7th, I took my first jogging steps. It was only a quarter mile, but it was weeks before the sports med doctor said I'd be able to do anything. Day after day, I focused on rebuilding and strengthening and by Christmas I had run a mile!
January hit, along with the Polar Vortex, dumping inch after inch of snow and beyond frigid temperatures on our area. Records were broken, heating bills forced the thought of selling first born children, and I kept my focus on Little Rock. I put that poor treadmill through a lot of use, including that dreaded 20 mile long run. Many wondered how I could stand to run so long on the "human hamster wheel" but I can honestly say I love my treadmill (which I'll have to post about later on).
I finally caught a break in February, during the taper. My final long run (only 8 miles) came on a day we got a "heat wave" with temps in the 50s. This was it - my dress rehearsal. I donned my race day costume: a Superman tank with cape, arm sleeves, and a SkirtSports capris. Now I relished my first real run after my injury but that first run outside after spraining my ankle was so freeing. After being cooped up inside on the treadmill, it was so awe-inspiring to feel the wind, the sun, and the pavement with each step. Sure, there was still snow on the ground, but the sun warmed me and after the first mile, the 50 degree weather felt more like 70. I was ready.
By the time race weekend approached, temps were reportedly going to be in the mid-to-high 40s...not too far off from that great 8 mile run. I was excited. Days to go and suddenly rain chances entered the picture. PANIC! I've trained indoors. Sure, I've run in the rain - in warmer weather. I quickly researched my options: 50by25 Competitor Runners Connect
I added a hat to my arsenal and ended up buying a disposable tyvek rain jacket at the expo. But, the expo (the day before the race) had beautiful weather. 57 and sunny...it was the first time we'd seen anything green since fall and new weather forecasts were saying the rain and cooler temps would hold off until noon.
Race day morning arrived and the weather appeared as though it was going to cooperate, with rain chances at 30% until closer to noon. We stayed at a Comfort Inn about 15 minutes from the start location. It was very affordable and very clean, but the neighborhood it was located in was run down. As we left the hotel to head for the race, we encountered three people arguing just outside the parking lot. We minded our own business until one of the guys threw the woman down to the ground and started beating her. As I deliberated whether it was a situation that required me to pull out my 9mm for the first time ever, my friend Jennifer dawned her full "Mommy mode". Shaking her finger at the guy and yelling at the top her lungs I was ready for this thug to come after us next.
Jennifer, not to back down, retorted "but that's not how you treat a lady!"
"But she took my wallet!" he yelled again.
"I don't care! That's not how you treat a lady!!!" Jennifer replied.
Now, I can only imagine what this guy thought. Here were three white girls, obviously not fitting in with the neighborhood, but how do you argue with three chicks decked out like Wonder Woman, Superman, and Batman?!?
I'm sure there would have been more said if we were dressed normally, but there's something about arguing with a super hero - even if it's just a costume - that says I'm not going to win this fight. He and his friend walked away and the woman left in the opposite direction, without even a single "thank you." Needless to say, our marathon morning started epically!
We got to the start with plenty of time to spare and snapped a few photos. At 15 minutes before the start, the rain began. I was lucky to have my rain jacket and my friends quickly dawned some garbage bags to keep dry. After all, it was still fairly warm and it wasn't raining that hard. We stood in our corral, in the rain, and waited with nervous anticipation, still flying high in that mornings heroic moment.
The race began in waves, released one corral at a time. Being in Corral H, suddenly meant we had an additional half hour wait before we could go. Slowly, our corral edged closer to begin. FINALLY, we were off and the first couple miles were great...except the rain stopped and I was quickly heating up. At mile 3 I made the mistake of tossing my tyvek rain jacket to the side...a decision I would later regret.
By mile 6 the rain resumed, soaking our clothes, but at least it wasn't freezing. Then the temps began to sink. At mile 11, we headed into the wind, bitter and chilling I fought the temptation to take the 13.1 split and settle on the half marathon. The wind stung against my wet skin but Jennifer was there to help convince me to keep pushing. That fateful turn at mile 12 cut the wind and helped renew my goals of the marathon.
At the half split, we saw the temp displayed on a bank clock: 35 degrees. We had run through a 20 degree drop and increasing rain - no wonder it felt so much harder than planned. We plodded along, tackling the long uphill ascent at mile 14. By mile 16 we had a renewed energy despite the increasing rain and kept a steady pace...when suddenly volunteers at a water station started yelling that the race was cancelled.
WHAT!?!?
No!!! That's not fair. I'm not quitting. As we passed, more rumors trickled through from passing volunteers and other runners in bits and pieces.
Incoming storm.....black flagged.....buses coming......no medals......
We kept going. If we were being reigned in we were going to get as far as we could before it happened. At mile 18, we finally had admit defeat. A police officer blocked the course. "Your race is cancelled due to an incoming storm. You're being diverted to Walmart where buses will pick you up and take you to the finish line. You cannot continue on the course. They've already closed the water stations and picked up the cones and mats."
Defeated, we took the diverted course to Walmart. Once there, we spotted a few others running past the parking lot. That's when we saw it, like some beacon of hope. It was a course mile marker. Jennifer and I quickly made the decision to keep going. We didn't want to wait around, getting chilled by the wait for the bus. We took off to finish the final few miles of the course and finish our race. It was bittersweet. We didn't get 26.2 miles of our marathon. In fact, by counting the trek back to the car after the finish line, we were logged at 24 miles. I had my medal but I didn't feel like I really ran that marathon.
The storm had finally hit on our walk back to the car. Pelting rain and lightning seemed like a fitting end to the feelings that I was so close but so far from my goal. We hopped in the car and tried to get ahead of the storm for our 10 hour drive back to Indiana. After a couple hours, conditions deteriorated to freezing rain and the passing trees and roads became an ice-coated mess. We quickly found a hotel in Memphis for the night....a hotel with a fitness center. After finally getting into some dry clothes and refueling our bodies I became determined to earn that huge chunk of metal hung around my neck at the finish line.
I limped downstairs to the fitness center and with every painful step completed that final 2.2 miles on the treadmill. Every step shook with pain as my legs had already become stiff and swollen from the run, but that pain was earned to me. It was feeling that completion of that marathon and knowing that had we been allowed to continue I would have finished. In retrospect, it seems fitting that I finished my marathon the same way I trained - on the treadmill...and while I'm still stiff and sore three days later as I write this, I'm already planning on doing it again next year to finish the course I couldn't this year.
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