This one was fueled by a newfound vegetarian diet and a lot of determination. There is something almost whimsical about training for your first marathon: you know it is going to be tough, but you don't really know HOW tough until you are actually doing it. Your second marathon is a conscious decision to put yourself through the same experience over again - I knew exactly what I was getting myself into, and I signed up for it anyway. What's that they say about the definition of insanity?
Anyway, as I was saying ... 18 weeks and 376 training miles later, the big day had finally arrived: the 2011 Cincinnati Flying Pig Marathon. I could not believe I was actually about to embark on another 26.2 mile journey. But here I was, standing in Pig Pen D in the pouring rain at 6:30 in the morning in downtown Cincinnati. Oh man, what have I gotten myself into?
First things first ... a quick re-cap of Saturday's events. My mom ran the 10K on Saturday morning! I tried my best to sleep in as long as possible while still making it downtown to see my momma cross the finish line.
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| Yeah, Mom!! |
She did a great job! This was not her first rodeo - Mom has been running 10Ks for a few years now.
Then I headed to the expo to pick up my race packet. Claire and Jared were still en route with an ETA of 5:00 p.m., so we decided it would be best for me to pick up Claire's race packet as well as mine.
Some scenes from the expo ...
Claire and Jared arrived right on schedule, and, after our little jog in matching outfits, with matching dogs, we focused on carb-loading - an amazingly delicious pasta dish with salad and garlic bread, all homemade by my master chef.
We headed to bed around 11:00 p.m. - that 4:00 a.m. wake-up call was going to come soon enough! Of course we first watched the episode of Seinfeld when Elaine hosts an Olympic marathoner:
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The morning was filled with preparation, frequent weather checks, and increasing nerves. But we finally made it downtown in plenty of time to get to our corral - ahem, I mean "Pig Pen." Apparently this was the first year for corrals at the Pig, and I think they've got some re-planning to do for next year: Claire and I literally had to jump a fence to get into the corral, because there were absolutely no breaks in the fence and no race organizers to help or answer questions. We were not the only ones, either - it was quite frustrating. Either way, we made it in, and were ready to go!
The beginning of the race was SO exciting - even in the pouring rain, there were hundreds of spectators lining the streets, cheering us on. I started getting emotional almost immediately! I knew I had to get it together, though, because you can't very well run 26.2 miles while crying the whole time.
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| Source: Flying Pig Marathon Facebook Page |
I had been warned repeatedly about THE HILLS, but I had trained for them, and was hopeful that I had trained enough. I had heard that the first ten miles is all hills - I'm here to tell you that that is a huge lie. I found the first four miles or so to be quite flat, with the exception of crossing the bridges to and from Kentucky. It definitely ramped up for a few miles, but I honestly felt so good through the hills that I didn't find them that rough. And then, mile 9 ...
We stopped for a quick restroom break around mile 9 (right after the half marathoners split off), and I actually didn't have to go (amazing, considering I ALWAYS have to pee!), but I made myself anyway. A couple of minutes later, we were back on the course.
All of a sudden, I noticed that my stomach was a bit uneasy. I didn't have to "go" - and I couldn't figure out what was wrong. Luckily, Claire had brought along some Pepto tablets, and was nice enough to let me have one. Unfortunately, that didn't help much, and I continued to run in pain for ... oh, I don't know ... the rest of the race. I was in a constant state of nausea, but I could not actually get sick (which I had actually hoped for, as I thought it would bring relief). There were points during the race that I would just stop and double over in pain, upset with myself that my hopes of breaking 5 hours were slipping away with every second, and that I was holding Claire back from the race I knew she could run. Ugh, I know - so dramatic.
We saw Jeff and Jared a little past the halfway point, which was a huge boost:
We kept pushing along, and I fixed my mind on making it to the Frisch's in Fairfax (right before the 18-mile marker), where I knew Jeff's parents would be. I was only halfway done and I was already focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. Seeing Jeff's mom and dad was incredible - it really is amazing how great it feels to see friends and family along the route!
But reality soon set in - I had eight more miles to go. My stomach pain was not easing, but I still didn't feel the need for a bathroom break. Claire was my cheerleader: she was feeling great, and kept me going. I told her I was disappointed that I had to walk so much, and we agreed to "just run" the rest of the race. And we did.
The rest of the race was somewhat of a blur. I cranked up the music, and took one mile at a time. I tried not to think that I had "seven more miles" or "just two 5Ks left" - I zeroed in on making it to that next mile marker, and then the next, and then the next. I could not believe it when "Jesus Walks" came on, once again at mile 21. I was definitely praying that my feet would not fail me - I had come too far!
The spectators along that final stretch were amazing. I had been warned that Riverside drive was sparse in terms of people cheering you on, but I thought it was great. The Flying Pig Marathon Facebook Page took some great photos of the spectators throughout the course:
Finally, we were at the last mile. It was all I could do to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I tried to distract myself by searching the crowd for familiar faces, and listening to the cheers of all of the spectators. How on earth I ran right past my mom and missed her, even though she was holding THIS, I'll never know!:
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| Hellooooo KITTY! |
It was at this point, just like she did in Detroit, Claire urged me to "Sprint it out!" So I tried. I really, really tried - in fact, I pushed myself so hard (and let's not fool ourselves here, I'm sure I was "sprinting" no faster than an 10:30 minute mile, absolute tops), that I had an undeniable feeling take over me mere steps from the finish: I was about to get sick. All I could think was, "Don't puke while crossing the finish line, don't puke while crossing the finish line." I knew that, not only were hundreds of people going to witness the event live, but I also was getting my official "finish line" picture taken. Just what I needed - a photo finish. And I did not have a poker face about it.
Thankfully, I made it across the finish line without making a scene. After a few seconds of circling the garbage can, just in case, I got myself together, and headed over to get myself one of these:
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| Note the pink KT Tape. Rock it out, Claire! |
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| I love this girl. |
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| Jeff, me, Mom, and Jerry - oh, and HELLO KITTY! |
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| With the boys: Jeff, me, Claire, and Jared |
And I am. I'm also a bit relieved that it is over. Training is hard - really, really hard. And running a marathon is not a walk in the park, either. But all of that work paid off - not only for the medal, the amazing experience, or the bragging rights ... but most of all, for the post-marathon ice cream:
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| Thank you, Graeter's! |
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