I ran my second marathon on Sunday. I am so much slower than all of you and ran even slower than I expected, but I am still happy that I finished. I swore that it was my last marathon through the end of training, through pretty much the entire race, and for about a half a day afterwards. I think maybe, probably, one more... Though I haven't made any plans for when or where that one more will be.
I ran a half on May 1st. It was cold enough at the start that many of us needed gloves, and it rained the entire time. I was freezing at the end and shivered so hard until I finally got into a hot shower. I ran an 8K on May 15th in three long-sleeved layers and was still cold. I ran a 5K on May 21st when it was comfortably 55-degrees and overcast. Those races also pretty much sum up the training conditions that I had going into the marathon.
Temperatures started rising during taper week. I was getting nervous about acclimating to the higher temperatures, but I also knew that I had to follow the training plan which meant not a lot of running. I started obsessing about the weather. It was supposed to be hot with showers and thunderstorms. I was freaking out about the heat and worried about the thunderstorms canceling the race but figured the showers would help and at least it would be overcast.
Race day dawned. It was 67-degrees and partly cloudy two and a half hours before the start. By gun time, it was 72-degrees and sunny. That sun never left us. It just kept blazing away. I don't know the hourly forecast, but I do know that it was 90-degrees, full sun, and humid by the time I finally finished.
I seriously wanted to quit at mile 5. But the only thing I wanted more was to finish what I'd started. I'd started out way too fast. There was a bridge crossing that was going to re-open to traffic at mile 8, and runners would be pulled from the course when that happened. Now, I knew that even at the pace I should have been running, I'd make that crossing without concern. But my rational mind wasn't fully in control, and I had several nightmares about missing the bridge. Fortunately, a gel consumed between miles 5 and 6 helped.
I seriously wanted to quit around mile 10. (Slightly past time for another gel...) I wasn't sure whether I wanted to cheer or cry at the half-way point. Now, I know that usually 20-26 are some of the hardest miles, but around mile 20 was when I finally knew without a doubt that I was going to make it. I didn't care about time. I didn't care if I walked the rest of it. But I was going to finish!
Thank goodness that the organizers added extra water stops. There were 22 stops--one almost every mile. I used every single one of them in addition to carrying my own water...some for a little too long. I don't usually require much water. I've run half marathons and long runs without taking any. Thank goodness some of those water stops had ice as well as water. Thank goodness for homeowners along the route with hoses and squirt guns. Thank goodness for spectators who brought bags of ice. Thank goodness for the man around mile 15 who had a sponge in ice water and put it down the back of my neck. I wouldn't have made it without them!
I was slow. I was whiny. I was drained. But I was stubborn enough to finish what I started. And that felt pretty darn good.
Edited by: MALAMI518 at: 6/3/2016 (09:39)
Beth
from Central NYS