Four friggin' minutes! We needed 224 to get CT's goal and we crossed the finish line at 228. I suppose going that whole distance and missing it by four seconds, would be worse, but it still seems awful damn close to me given the distance.
The race started with a storm. Dark, gloomy, rainy, why am I doing this again? It was cold, which only bothered me waiting for the start. I knew once we started, it would be a blessing. The rain was my main fear as I scanned the crowd. Running in wet shoes is horrible. Don't mind the snow, sleet, whatever, just keep my feet dry! Wasn't going to happen this day. Bang goes the gun and the with the surge we are off.
I attempted to enjoy the start more, feed off the excitement, take in the sites, but trying to keep adrenaline at a minimum. I'll be honest, in the back of my head were all the thoughts about hitting the wall at the first marathon, worrying about the missing miles because of the heat this summer as I dodged puddles. With the crowd the first mile turned out to be a little slower. The next few miles, things started to open up, mud puddle avoidance was easier, CT and I shared a couple of jokes and we found a rhythm. We didn't start right with the pace group we wanted to stay with, but I could see us gaining on them.
That's how it went until around mile ten. It felt like I was running very easy. We passed the pace group and it was about this time I asked how CT was doing. She said her hip was hurting her some and no sooner did she say that, then my knee started feeling a little weird. We both moved to the center of the road to avoid as much of the grade on the street as possible. It was also about this point the half marathoners turned off. I distinctly remember thinking to myself, how tempting it would be to turn off and be done in three miles, but the sense of pride I had as I continued forward.
Just before mile thirteen there was a little bit of a hill going down and a turn. It's here where my knee really began to hurt and I limped around that corner. Wow. Warning bells and lights started to go off. All the miles I've logged and it's never felt like this. Can I continue? Should I? I can't let CT down. This is about where the decline started in the first marathon. All those thoughts came rushing in my mind. Back on level ground and out of the turn, the pain was gone, maybe some discomfort, but better. Okay, lets see what happens.
Even with the pain, waist up, I felt great. It didn't feel like I was having to work very hard to maintain our pace. Though I was worried about my knee, my mind was more concerned that next stretch is where "The Wall" came and destroyed me last time. CT was beginning to struggle and it's somewhere in this stretch she told me "This is our last marathon". She wanted to start walking through the water stops and I did as well. Though, coming out of the water stops and beginning to run again my knee felt like it was grinding more gears than if I were to drive a stick-shift. It was at this point the marathon officially became survival. The goals get left behind and it simply becomes whatever you can do to finish. I knew we were getting slower and it was around mile seventeen our pace group passed us. I had visions flash back to the first marathon and the crushing defeat I felt when the pace group that I wanted passed me. This time, I was much more level headed. We had started well behind them and although we weren't exactly at the pace we wanted, we weren't walking.
It was around mile twenty that I told CT, I couldn't walk through the water stops anymore. It was too painful for me to start up again. The plan became I'd slow up my pace so she could catch up, but I had to remain moving. For as bad as my knee was doing, I actually felt very good because "The Wall" hadn't reared it's ugly head. I know the last six miles would be the worst, but getting here without breaking down, felt like a huge accomplishment and I could feel the confidence coming back. Even though we were in what I'd call defensive mode, at mile twenty were were at exactly the pace we needed to be at to get our goal. Prior to the run, CT and I discussed that if we were at twenty and weren't at our goal, we'd shut it down. Here we were, right at our goal, but both our bodies were struggling and I knew keeping the pace we had to would be next to impossible. Take away the pain, everything else the same, we could have done it. I know it.
Running isn't pretty. Anybody who looks good crossing the finish line, caught a bus and cheated (maybe not, but that's my theory)! Skip this paragraph if you are squeamish. This is going to get filed under WAY TOO MUCH INFORMATION. Remember, I warned you. Prior to a marathon, I'm convinced there's nothing more important than a good poop. I spent a good thirty minutes in the morning doing everything possible to leave the biggest deposit I could. Even though I resorted to praying, I knew enough didn't come out. Well at just over mile twenty-two, the urge struck me. It wasn't just an urge though, it was all the bells and whistles of "you have ten seconds". I politely told CT to continue on without me as I stopped to contemplate what was going on. I seriously thought I was going to shit my shorts right there on the course. Believe me when I say that all my concerns about my knee were instantly gone. I don't know if it was fear of the scene I'd surely cause, excellent muscle control, divine intervention, or me using all the good karma I've tried to save up, but the shit decided it would wait. This makes the scene in Forrest Gump more classic as he cheerfully says "Shit Happens", luckily for me it didn't. I took a moment to stretch, then my concern became I've gone this far with CT, I have to catch her to finish with her.
The last mile felt like forever. Even with everything this marathon threw at me, the goal was still possible. I could pick up the pace and get darn close. Then I thought about the real goal and that was to cross the line with CT. That was the only thing that really mattered. Not much was said between us down the final stretch, both in pain, both tired, both wanting to be done hand in hand...that's the goal, 4 minutes didn't matter.
Even for missing the other goal, I don't feel bad. This was a much different marathon than the first one. Am I bummed about missing the time we wanted? Sure. But, I'm walking (make that hobbling) away with a much more positive outlook. Life is a learning experience and even though that first marathon was a disaster, I learned a few things. Applying those lessons this time around and seeing the improvements, helps when I evaluate my performance. In honor of those 4 damn minutes, here's the 4 lessons I learned:
1) Tape your nipples - I felt like a pure genius for doing this. As I waited for friends to cross the finish line, I was surprised at how many blood soaked shirts came across the line. Knew with it being cold, it would be a problem. Where I failed and will make adjustments, my rain soaked shorts and the chaffing on my thighs. Ouch.
2) Electrolytes - Maybe I'm stronger, maybe it was the cooler weather, but I'm convinced that drinking electrolytes instead of sticking with water the whole way is what prevented me from hitting the wall again. One bad marathon drinking only water, a much better second one drinking electrolytes, I'm sold.
3) After mile 20 anything goes - The G and PG rated conversation ceases to exist after mile twenty. Colorful four letter words come out to play. "Lets finish this f*cking thing!"
4) Promises - Whatever promises are made during a marathon, don't believe them. "This is our last marathon"....haha.
