The marathon's over! And I couldn't be more relieved. And also proud. But mostly relieved. Here's how it all went down.
My darling handsome amazing husband Pete and I decided to stay at a hotel in Manhattan on Saturday night so that I'd have an easy walk to the Staten Island Ferry on Sunday morning. My good friends Rachel and Mike enjoyed carbing it up with us at dinner that night, but Rachel never likes salad, no matter who's running a marathon the next day.
Back at the hotel, Pete and I wound up watching the CNN documentary Blackfish, which I highly recommend both as a documentary and as a means of distracting yourself the night before a marathon.
On Sunday morning, I woke up around 5:45 and put on my duds for the day (plus gigantic sweats that I'd toss off to donate at the start)...
And enjoyed my personal breakfast of champions - oatmeal with Nutella and raspberries - made with the help of the hotel coffee maker. It looks gross but it's delicious!
Then I packed up, got a kiss and a hug from Pete, and walked over to the Staten Island Ferry terminal, where I maneuvered my way through the crowds and just barely made it on the 7:45 ferry.
After an uneventful ferry ride and a looooooong wait in a looooong line outside in the wind, I wound up on a bus to Fort Wadsworth. I chatted with a really nice girl from Rhode Island on the bus, who also kept my mind off the fact that I was about to run a freaking marathon.
The first time I noticed new security measures was when I got wanded before entering Fort Wadsworth. A little freaky but the cop was nice and gave me a pat on the almost-butt and wished me good luck as he sent me on my way.
Then I saw Superman.
Then I got horribly disoriented and wound up in the blue start village, when I should have been in orange. About twenty minutes of wandering later, I found the orange area where I was supposed to have met my friend and fellow runner Christy 45 minutes earlier and thought all was lost, when lo and behold! A bundled blonde was shouting my name! We got to see each other for like a minute before she headed to her start wave, but it was so great to see a familiar face before such a huge event.
I got settled with my second breakfast of champions.
And watched the other runners' heads bob by on the bridge (hard to see in the picture, plus that chick photobombed me).
And the sun came out! For like a minute and then went away forever and ever.
After I finished my bagel and tea, I had just enough time to find some water, hit the port-a-potty, and change out of my throwaway sweats before it was time to head to the start. I chatted with some people as my start wave moved up and I swear I wasn't nervous - I felt just like I normally do at the start of any race. Then I looked up and saw firefighters way up in a cherry picker. And I heard someone singing "New York, New York" on the loudspeaker. Then I started running, and I realized I was running a marathon.
So I ran.
And attempted to smile.
But mostly made weird faces.
I'd say I felt really good for about the first half of the race. Going over the Verrazano was not as cool as I'd imagined, because it was a gray day and the wind was pretty fierce, so I didn't exactly want to stop and savor the views. I saw Pete around mile 3 and popped up on the curb to give him a kiss. I had planned my first stop for fuel at mile 5 and acted accordingly. This whole time I made sure to not go much faster than an 11 min/mile pace, which would give me a cushion to slow down later and still finish in under 5 hours.
I missed some friends at mile 8, but saw some I didn't expect around mile 11. The crowds in Williamsburg might have been my favorite because their varying hipster mustaches and snow hats and unapologetic red Solo cups made me laugh.
Then I realized I really should stop and pee. I tried to strategize as to when I'd stop, how long the port-a-potty line would be, was it really worth it and should I just keep going... then just before the Queensboro bridge/mile 15, I pulled over. Luckily the line moved quickly and the seat was clean and sitting down was pretty much the greatest thing ever. I texted my husband to let him know I had stopped and he replied, "Keep running."
Don't mind if I do. After the Queensboro Bridge, which is just as long and uphill and quiet and weird as everyone says it is, we rolled on down to First Avenue, where the crowds are legendary. And they were - I just wasn't really in the mood to have a bunch of drunk people screaming my name. Until my drunk friends did! Seeing them (just before mile 18 I think?) was great, but after that is when things started going downhill. The straight line of First Ave looked neverending, and my body was just not in the mood to run anymore. I wasn't particularly sore, just done with the whole running thing.
I shuffled my way into the Bronx, walking through every water station, and texted my husband: "A little past 20. I think five hours is out of the question but I don't give a shit."
And that was the truth. Not in a bad way - I wasn't mad at myself and I wouldn't have done anything differently in the race up to that point. I just think my body isn't made to run more than roughly 18 miles at any given time, which is perfectly fine with me. Unfortunately, I still had to finish the race.
(I didn't read it until later, but my husband texted me back: "You're right there! Don't let up! You're perfectly reasonable and I love you!" which is pretty much the perfect response to someone realizing they're not going to meet their marathon goal time.)
Even though I had clearly slowed down, the Bronx is kind of a blur in my memory. Sometime around mile 21, I put on my iPod for the first time and listened to some songs I had purposely put on there to make me think of my best friends. It distracted me for a while, but I was still just living from water stop to water stop (aka walk break to walk break) at that point.
All I wanted to do was get into Central Park. Then I knew it was a straight shot down the East Side of the park, and my parents would be on Central Park South around mile 25. But then I got into the park and started to feel like I was going to pass out. I tried eating some Sport Beans but they didn't quite feel right (I'd been eating them throughout the race but I think I was just done with everything at that point). I pretty much walked off the passing-out feeling then tried running again, forcing myself to just get to Central Park South.
As soon as I exited the park, I heard my name. I ran towards my mommy like I was four years old and gave her a big hug and said "I want to stop right now!" Then I high-fived my dad, who said "You go girl!" which he had probably never said ever before in his life. Then I kept running, even though I desperately, desperately wanted to stop and go back to my parents and husband and friends and their warmth and love and probably their booze too.
But I kept running. I looked something like this.
I ran across Central Park South and back into the park on the West side. I have to say, some of the spectators on First Avenue had annoyed me (because they were drunk and having fun and I was not), but the spectators later in the race were amazing. They said "Looking good, Lisa!" and "Keep it up!" even when I was surely not looking good or keeping anything up. My sorority sister's mother found me about 400 meters from the finish because she recognized my pants. That distracted me enough to find whatever I had in those legs and lungs of mine to finish the damn race.
And I did! In the official time of 5 hours, 26 minutes, 58 seconds. AKA about half an hour slower than I wanted to but, as I said at mile 20, I don't give a shit. I ran a marathon (I didn't "just finish" a marathon - there's a difference). And then I managed to smile when they took this picture.
During a long walk that seemed about as long as the race we'd just finished, sorority sister's mom Sally found me again and for the second time, she distracted me just when I needed it. That would have been a very long walk if I hadn't had someone to talk about Queechy Lake and Say Yes to the Dress with.
Then I got this bitchin' poncho and hobbled my way to Christy's apartment, and sat on her floor, which is all I had wanted to do for the previous six hours.
Then we took this picture, which is pretty damn cool if I do say so myself.
After a shower and some champagne, we headed home and I ate pizza and wings and tried not to move too much. Rachel and my parents left the next day, which I spent on the couch like this. It's hard to see, but there are band-aids on my big and pinky toes. I ran a marathon and only got two blisters - that must be some kind of record!
Monday was a little rough because I thought I'd never be able to walk down stairs like a normal person ever again. And my lower back was REALLY sore where my phone had been resting. But on Tuesday morning, I bopped down the stairs like it was any other day and went to work, where people wanted to see my medal and hear all about the race. Since I've been running races regularly for a while now, a marathon seems like a fairly normal thing to me, but it was pretty incredible to hear how so many people were in awe of what I had done. And you know what? It is pretty awesome.
After the race, I told as many people as possible that I didn't ever want to run a marathon again. The training was rough and the race itself showed me that perhaps I'm not really meant to do it again. Now that I know exactly what a marathon entails, I'd have to think long and hard about training for and running another one. So ask me again in five years and I might have my answer.
