We Are Victorious! or Second Full Marathon DONE

As usual, I spent the early morning hours before my second full marathon (Pittsburgh, on May 15) standing in the kitchen with Haakan, saying "why are we doing this again?"  He pointed out that this was the reverse of the last time we both did Pittsburgh, when he was running the full and I was running the half.  I pointed out that he'd have to wait a whole lot longer for me to finish than I had waited for him, speed demon that he is, and reminded him again to bring a book.

We got into town, found parking on the North Side, not too far from the finish (getting back to the car was definitely less of an ordeal than getting back to my hotel in Phoenix, where I did my first full marathon, had been - when I had to walk almost a mile to a light rail station, wait, take the light rail, then walk 4 blocks back to my hotel) and started to mosey towards the start.  There was a giant banner hung across the Clemente Bridge (which we'd have to cross at the end) that said "We are victorious" in Greek.  According to legend this is what Pheidippides, the Greek soldier who ran from Marathon to Athens, said as he arrived at his destination.  Then, according to legend, he dropped dead.  So, inspiring words, but I hoped not to exactly replicate Pheidippides' feat.  There were also big banners that said "1/2 mile to go", and I thought about how long that final half mile was going to feel at the end (it also seemed particularly mean to make us run over a bridge at the end, since you don't realize it until you're running over one, but bridges are up hill!).

This year the start was in the middle of Downtown, as opposed to in the Strip District, where it had been two years prior when we'd last done the race.  This time there were corrals, which were heavily policed, and a lot more organization.  I found the 4:30 pace group, they all tried to calm me down, as I was fighting down nervous tears at this point, the mess of pain and bad emotions that my first marathon had been was totally in my head.  Finally, convinced I wasn't going to sob my way through 26.2 miles, Haakan went up to Corral A (my slow ass was in Corral E) and I chatted with the other hopefuls in my pace group.  Here's me right before I dropped off my gear, looking all excited and freaked out.

Check out my number, yo!

We crossed the start almost 13 minutes after the gun and it became clear to me by like mile 3 that 4:30 was just not going to happen for me.  It just felt harder than it should have at that point.  The pace felt too fast, I felt too winded and too heavy, and I just knew that it wasn't going to be my day for a PR quite that great.  I remember thinking that if I'd been doing a 10k that day, it would have been one of my slowest.  I felt like I was running at my maximum, which isn't really where you want to feel during the early miles of a marathon.  I dropped off from the 4:30 group right behind mile 6 and crossed the 10k mark still in good shape for a 4:30ish finish.  However, I felt myself fading and feeling tired already and I made some midstream goal corrections.  I could finish under 5 hours easy, maybe I could shoot for 4:40 or less instead.  My friend Chelsea, who was doing the half, unexpectedly caught up with me at that point and I managed to keep pace with her for a few minutes until I fell behind and lost her in the crowd. We went back into the West End (which was kind of cool, even though it was all uphill - there were a TON of people out), then out onto Carson Street for my least favorite part of the course.  I HATE that chunk on the road before you get to Station Square.  There's no one out, it's largely uphill, and you're basically running down a highway.  There were a ton of signs and such up, though, so that was cool.  By this point, I'm doing a run/walk, and it was very early in the race to be doing that.  I was just trying to keep my average pace within a certain window, and was pretty successful with that, until I made a pit stop in Oakland, after we crested the hill on Forbes (and that hill sucked every bit as much as I thought it would.  Note to self: more hill work!).  I lost at least 2 minutes waiting for the porta potty, and then using it.  I didn't realize how far behind I'd gotten until I spotted the 4:45 pace group on Fifth Avenue.  We crossed the halfway point at Fifth and Morewood, and I knew that all hope of a sub 4:40 finish was pretty much gone.  Sub 5 hour became the new goal.  I briefly got in front of the 4:45 group, but I lose them as we crested yet another hill (I swear, I felt every single hill in the course).

Look!  I'm not last!

Running down Fifth Avenue was nice, as was running down Penn towards Braddock.  Once we got back into Homewood, I felt like I was running in an unknown territory, since I don't drive back there a whole lot, and it seemed further than it was, I'm sure.  There were A TON of people out along the course, which was pretty neat to see.  There was a lot of music, smelled like a lot of barbecues going on, and a lot of pithy comments to the runners, which was fun.  Once we made the turn onto East Liberty Blvd, I got a second wind because I knew we were really close to my neighborhood, and getting close to the final 10k mark of the race.  At that point, I knew I could finish and finish strong, even if I was over pace.  I strongly considered just turning around with the half marathoners and doing a DNF while I was on the South Side, but by mile 18.5, I was feeling glad I hadn't done that.  "I got this," I kept telling myself.  Mile 19 came and I felt great.  I had settled into a run/walk kind of pattern, and I was ok with that since the primary goal was a better experience than I'd had in Phoenix.  I started seeing neighbors who were cheering me on, and as I passed my street, I just hoped my mom would be out with the kids when I turned the corner.  And she was.  As soon as I saw my mom carrying Charlie, I started to well up with tears, I felt so overwhelmed to see my family.  She ran next to me with Charlie while I told people, "That's my little boy!" until we got up to where my sister was standing with Elliot and Oliver.  When they saw me they started cheering at the tops of their lungs, "Go Mommy!  Run fast, Mommy!" and I about broke down into sobs.  "Those are my kids!" I shouted to anyone who could hear me, and the runners around me smiled.  Elliot was shouting so loudly, we could still hear him two blocks away.

Freaking joy on my face, seeing my kids.

I finished up mile 20 and felt like I was losing steam a bit.  I'd run strong through Highland Park because I knew so many people there, but I was starting to feel pretty much DONE.  Still, I knew once I hit Liberty I'd be close to the end, and get that nice downhill stretch.  There was some fabulous dance music going up at the top of Liberty, and the crowd support was great in Bloomfield.  I started down the hill feeling like I was definitely going to make it, and going to finish strong, when out of nowhere my fabulous husband appears.  He'd finished the half marathon in 1:39 (a finish time of which I can only dream) and had walked 3.5 miles back up the course to meet me and run the final stretch in with me.  He took a little video when he caught up with me.

I was pretty happy to see him, especially when he began running in next to me, since it had  been getting a little lonely there without my iPod and I was wondering how I was going to spot him at the finish line.  Clearly I was pretty pleased to have someone to run with.

What a flattering angle.

We went down Liberty into the Strip, running until it flattened out and my piriformis muscles started to cramp up on me.  We did a lot of run/walk then, but I knew we were in the home stretch and I was going to come in under 5 hours easily.  The last two miles really were some of the hardest physically, and I walked a lot more than I would have liked, but mentally, I just felt good.  I was going to finish, I wasn't miserable, and it was going to be good.  Ignore the pissed off look on my face here, I was actually pretty pleased!

What you looking at, punk?

As we got to the final bridge, Haakan said "Ok, I'll see you at the finish!" and took off down the sidewalk to let me do the final mile myself.  It was HARD.  I was so tired by that point and that bridge at the end was just plain mean, as I'd thought it would be.  Seriously, why put a freaking hill in the last mile?  I know we're the city of bridges and all, but c'mon!

That half mile felt freaking LONG!

Crossing the finish line, I really did pour on the last bit of speed that I had.  I finished in 4:51:56, almost 20 minutes better than my finish in Phoenix, but more than 20 minutes over my goal time.  Still, given that I felt so tired so early on, I feel like I ran the best race that I could have for how I felt that day.  I don't even think starting out slower would have helped.

Gotta PhotoShop that time clock, that is NOT my chip time!

Haakan has pointed out that I'm barely a year post baby, and it took me a while to get under 30 for the 5k and under 1 hour for the 10k, so this finish time isn't that far outside of the realm of where I have been.  Could I have finished faster?  Given ideal conditions and an ideal physical state, I probably could have gotten much closer to 4:30.  But the knee injury kind of got me off track, as did having to take a longer taper than I wanted, thanks to being out of town.  And I can't discount the joys of being a woman of childbearing age, which definitely played a part in how I was feeling on Sunday.  There are lots of variables and moving pieces, but like I said, I think I did the best I could have done for that day and the circumstances I was handed.

Me and my bling.

I felt physically pretty good through the whole race, so I wasn't prepared for the absolute horror show that was my feet when I took my socks off.  I knew I would have some blistering because I could feel it on the bottoms of my big toes, and when you're running that far in wet conditions, some blisters are to be expected, but the big purple nasties were beyond what I thought I was dealing with because they just didn't hurt that badly.  I also had giant purple blisters under my toenails on my middle toes on both feet, and a blister at the end of my pinky toe on the right foot.  The blisters under my toenails freak me out, and I may have to admit that I've sacrificed them to the marathon gods.  I never thought I could have something like that that didn't just hurt like hell!  The blisters I had during Phoenix look like little nothings compared to these babies (I'll spare you a picture, but maybe I should have taken one because they were horrifying).

So, to paraphrase, it was the best of times, it was the worst of times, but I guess most marathons are.  I'm sure I'll post more ruminations on it as time goes on, but for now I'm just really pleased to have survived it, to have set a new PR (which I will hopefully be taking down in Columbus in October), and to have exorcised the demons of my first marathon in Phoenix.  Since my official race photos aren't up yet, I'll leave you with a picture of the beautiful flowers my sister got for me.  Love you, Jess!

Yay, pretties!