(As in, it’s really long, and it’s about the marathon.)
It is probably good that I waited a few days to write this. It is funny how the mind works. After finishing the marathon, I was 100% sure I’d never do that again. I have since regained some objectivity (or insanity, depending on how you look at it). So, anyway, here’s how the story goes:
As I wrote here before, I’d pulled a hamstring on my last planned long run and was not able to complete the 22 miles. So, my last long run (20 miles) was actually 6 weeks before the marathon. After the injury, I wasn’t able to run much for the 3 weeks before the marathon. A six week taper, half of which involves no running at all, does not leave one very prepared for running 26.2 miles. And then there was the nasty cold the week before the race. My poor body just didn’t even know what was coming. I wasn’t sure how I’d do, honestly. I thought there was a distinct possiblilty that the time off could leave me feeling healthier, with the hamstring healed and the cold better. So, I went into it with at least a glimmer of hope.
We arrived in Rome midday Saturday. I had to go down to Marathon Village to get my race packet. I was still not completely registered, so that had me a little worried. The online registration never went through all the way, so I had to go to the “Pending” desk at the race packet area. Turns out my registration was delayed due to my birthdate being entered wrong. The online registration didn’t indicate which went first, month or day. Being American, I naturally put the month first, but that was backwards. Fortunately, it was an easy fix, and I got my race packet and bib number pretty quickly.
Brian had stayed back to see if he could get a different hotel booked for our second night in Rome. He didn’t like the one I’d booked, and thought we might be able to get in at the place he’d stayed a week ago. He was able to get a nice suite there. It even had a jacuzzi tub which definitely made the room change worth it!
After I got my packet, I took the train back to the hotel. Brian wasn’t back yet, so I sat and had a coffee at an outdoor cafe on Via Veneto. My running buddy, Jen, came up and joined me. When Brian got back, we got ready to go eat dinner. Italians eat dinner really late, so we walked around a little while first, until we thought the restaurant might be open. I wasn’t terribly happy with the meal we had. It was good, but not great. I’m so spoiled by the amazing food in Naples. Seriously, I’m probably ruined for life.
We went back to the room and got settled for bed. Alex was in the crib right next to the bed. I’m a light sleeper and heard every move he made. And we were on Via Veneto, so it was really noisy outside, too. Alex woke up screaming at 2am. I tried to console him, even brought him to bed with us. He just crawled around all over us for an hour. We finally just put him back in his crib. He screamed some more, but finally went to sleep. It took me forever to go back to sleep after that. I think if I travel for a marathon again, I’ll just go by myself!
I got up for the day at seven and got dressed and organized. The race packet included a handy backpack for checking in your stuff for after the race. I packed flip flops and a long sleeved shirt. I took my camelbak for the race, packed with gatorade, lifesavers, and a kashi fruit bar–all the same things I’d trained with. I met Jen at the Metro stop and we rode together to the race start. It was crazy. The trains were all crammed full of people. Really, insane. In true Italian fashion, we just shoved our way onto the train. There was no need to hold onto any handrails; we were packed so tightly together no one could move anyway. We finally made it to the starting area, dropped off our bags, and herded into the start corrals with the other runners.
The race started very slowly. You couldn’t do much more than walk with the mass throng of people. They had pacemarker balloons to help you see what sort of time you were keeping. We were near the 4:45 and 5:00 balloons when we started. I would eventually come to hate those f***ing balloons. But anyway, we finally got moving and were in front of the 5:00 balloons. I wasn’t too worried about where I was early on, because it is better to start off conservatively. As a runner, I warm up slowly. Jen calls me a diesel engine.The first couple miles are always miserable, but then I find my stride.
It was kind of cloudy when we started, but as we headed south, the sun was shining. It was actually kind of hot, surprisingly. We have been training in the cold and wind, so I wasn’t used to the warm sunshine! Ha! Our first 5k was kind of slow, and I wasn’t feeling so great. I just didn’t feel strong. There were water/gatorade stops every 5k and sponge stops in between those. The sponge stop at 12.5K felt great! The sun had really heated me up! I was drinking my gatorade from my camelbak and just getting water at the stops. As the race went along, I started taking both water and gatorade at the stops. Somewhere around 15k I tried to eat my kashi bar, but it just tasted nasty for whatever reason, so I ditched that. They had food stops starting somewhere around there, so I had a blood orange (sooo good!). Funny, because when I ran the Lewis & Clark marathon in Missouri in 2006, they had oranges and that was the worst thing I ever put in my mouth! But blood oranges? Yum!!!! Gotta love Italy! They also had little cookies, which I nibbled on at all the subsequent food stops.
At the 15k water stop, Jen and I got separated and were both waiting on each other at different places. When we found each other, we’d been passed by those damn 5:00 hour balloons. We passed them again though. I wasn’t feeling so hot, however, and just couldn’t find my pace. Around 20k, they were approaching again. I told Jen that I wasn’t feeling 100% and that it was going to be a 5 hour marathon for me. Bless her heart, she saved me with the right words. She said, “don’t worry about the numbers, just find your pace. This is when your engine always kicks in anyway!” I knew that my engine was not, in fact, going to kick in today. But her advice to forget about the numbers was the only thing that got me through the 26.2 miles. She was feeling better than me and gradually made her way off ahead. This was actually a good thing. Feeling like I was holding her back wasn’t helping me. So, I plodded on. I took lots of walk breaks. I was feeling queasy and cold at this point, so I’d run until I felt like I’d puke. Then, I’d take a walk break. But when I walked, I power walked, so that made up a little bit of time for my slow running 
And the kilometers went on, very slowly. When I got to the 30k, I told myself that it was only a 12k left, which was nearly a 10k, which is only an hour of running. So suck it up already and run! But, still I had to take walk breaks. When I got to the 37k, I told myself “it’s only a 5k! That’s like the 3 mile loop around panoramica, but flat! You can run that!” But, alas, I still had to walk some. It was rough. I was thoroughly spent.
When I saw the finish line, at last, I ran as fast as I possibly could. I heard someone yell my name from the sidelines (it was Brian). One of my runner friends had given me some advice about being cognizant of who is around you when you finish, because that is who will be in your photo. But at that point, I didn’t even care, I just wanted to be done. I couldn’t not sprint to the finish. I had to end the misery. And it was done. 5 hours and 11 minutes from the start, I was done. So done.
I felt disoriented and emotional. I got my medal and my foil wrap. I got a bag with some water and stuff in it, some more blood oranges. I made my way to the truck with my bag of stuff. And there was Jen! I was so happy to see her. We sat on the curb and I ate a few bites of the apple that was in the bag they’d handed out. I drank a little of the water and gatorade. And then I started to not feel so hot. I called Brian and told him I’d come out of the runner area to find him. But when I got up I realized I really, really, didn’t feel so hot. So, I sat back down. I started to wonder if I should go to the medical tent. And then I started to feel like I was going to puke. I looked around for a good place, and remembered I had the plastic bag that the water and apple had been in. So, I got that out. And, sure enough, puked.
Then Jen walked with me over to the medical tent. They had me lie down for a bit. But no improvement. So, the doctor there said that I was dehydrated and should take some fluids. And they hooked up an IV. I called Brian back to tell him what was going on. He came to the tent with Alex. They let them come in for just a few minutes. I was all covered up in these foil wraps (to conserve heat). I was talking to Alex, but he didn’t see me and was looking around to figure out where my voice was coming from. He was confused and didn’t realize I was under all that foil, ha! He finally saw me, but was still confused because of all the foil. When Brian took him out he was very upset about leaving Mommy.
After the fluid, I still felt crappy. I had to really concentrate to not hurl on the train ride back to the hotel. When we got to the room, I stretched out on the bed. When I had some energy I got up and took advantage of the nice bath tub in the suite. What I probably needed was a cold soak for the legs. But I was still cold and sick feeling, so I took a hot bath. It felt good. Brian went out and got pizza. I was able to eat a little bit. A few hours later I was really hungry and just had to have some potatoes. Brian, God bless him, went out and found me a mozzarella-pomodoro panini and roasted potatoes–exactly what I’d requested! I still had a funny taste in my mouth, but the carbs went down relatively well.
I was able to stretch out and relax. After we put Alex to bed, we went out on the terrace and had some Prosecco. That helped me get to sleep that night! I actually slept pretty well considering. The last time I ran a marathon, I had a really rough night after with super sore legs. So, I think I did better with the recovery this time, even though the race was awful.
The next morning, we started off for Stuttgart, Germany. I had to stop to eat four times on the way. I was famished! My legs were really tight by the time we got to our hotel for the night. The room we were in was awful, so the next morning, I found a new place. We get there and find out we are on the 3rd floor and there is no elevator. Ha! Joke is on me, I guess. But a day later (and lots of walking and stairs later) I am feeling almost back to normal.
After the horrible run and the puking and the IV, I really thought I’d never run a marathon again. I mean, how insane can I be, really? But it is a few days later, and I know I did my best. It was just a sense of failure and suffering that made me loathe the idea of running right after the race. Objectively, I can look at it now and know that just finishing was a major accomplishment considering the less than ideal conditions. There were definitely times during the marathon where I wasn’t sure if that was going to happen. I could never really see myself quitting, but I was having trouble imagining how I was ever going to finish. But I let go of the idea of how I wanted things to be; I stopped comparing myself with other people; I put one foot in front of the other; and I made it to the finish.
And hopefully the next one will be better 
. I’m still in charge here, though, so a marathon we shall run. But my pulled hamstring is trying to convince me to quit. It’s that fear of failure again. My leg hurts, so I must rest. Fine. But my mind is in cahoots with my leg, saying things like, “if you don’t run between now and the marathon, you will be out of shape and fail miserably.” There is that possibility. But really, it isn’t that likely. I’ve done the base training, including a 20 mile run. I’m fit. Now I just have to make sure I’m healthy for race day. So here I sit, writing on my blog with a package of frozen corn tucked under my thigh.
