Marathon Madness!!

Bubble girl, pre-marathon.

I started writing this blog when I had just started to train for the marathon and broke my foot. That's pretty monumental because despite deadly heat and terrible conditions, I ran the Chicago marathon in 4:42 on Sunday. (In NY, I beat five hours by like 3 minutes.) Here's the blow by blow.

At the start, I optimistically placed myself in the 3:30 pace group, meaning I would finish in three hours and thirty minutes. An impossibility. You know, all the preparation and all the thinking that goes into racing a marathon, and then on race day it's like I have no brain. Standing at the start corral, I realized that I had only eaten a 1/2 a bagel and I didn't bring my Gu with me. I had no fuel! Random act of kindness number 1: I met a nice guy named Steve who shared his energy bar with me. Thank you Steve. Steve asked me, "What's up with the skirts?" I replied, "They're cute. And if anyone tries to tell you that they have a true purpose other than that, they're lying." I think Steve appreciated my honesty, and mostly Steve appreciated all the women around him who wore skorts.

If you've been reading my blog, you know what a klutz I am and how I injure myself ALL THE TIME. In the first mile, I fell. I'm not sure what happened, but before I knew it, my ankle twisted and I landed on the ground in danger of being trampled by the huge crowd of people heading my way. I quickly got myself up. (Random act of kindness 2: a very nice woman stopped to ask if I was okay. Thank you stranger.)

I took stock to see if I had re-broken my foot or done any other damage to myself. Bloody knee, bloody palm, I seemed to be okay. Kept running with blood dripping down my calf, preoccupied with how fucking HOT I was getting and that I really had to pee. Ran past the posse, where SSM guy was holding up a RUN BUBBLE GIRL! sign. So cute! It was so great to have thim there, cheering me on.

Stopped at the port-a-john where it was probably 150 degrees, peed, wiped the blood off my leg and ripped off my tank top. Then, running, I had to reattach my number to my skort. So all in all, a pretty slow first couple of miles.

The first six miles were pretty bad. I was hot and my quads hurt. I don't understand these weird marathon phenomenons. I never get sore quads and I was fine all through training. Why, suddenly, the soreness? Where the hell did that come from? And would I be able to run this damn race? I looked forward to passing the 10 mile marker. That seemed like a good thing. I was also developing new blisters on both feet between my big and second toes. Again, why now???

In short, I felt like shit, and I truly didn't know at that point what the rest of the race had in store for me. But somehow, whereas everyone else felt worse as the race went on and the temperature increased, I felt better. At mile 11 the posse was there again with sponges, water, donuts, whatever I needed. I didn't know what I needed, I just knew I needed something. At one point I thought Cindy asked me if I wanted some wine, and I said yes. I ended up with water, thank goodness because had she put wine in my hand, I would have drank it. SSM guy looked stressed. Indeed, spectating is more stressful than running.

By now, people were passing out on the side of the road, throwing up, water stops were mobbed with people walking and trying to get wet. It was kind of like an episode of Survivor.

Slow forward to mile 20. By now I felt sure I would finish. The pain had subsided and though I was wet and sweaty, I felt okay. Just then some bitch with a megaphone announced that they were shutting down the race and that we should all walk the rest of the way. I'm not one to follow directions, so I kept running. For the last 6 miles it was just kind of like a slow dream. Most people were walking, but many of us were running. Helicopters were announcing something, but I couldn't really understand what they were saying. Cops along the course were telling us to walk. Still, I kept running. And I kept looking for the sign GO BUBBLE GIRL! to see SSM guy one more time before the finish. Alas, I never did. I found out afterwards that SSMG was at mile 20, waiting to jump in with me! So sad.

I crossed the finish line by myself (well, I mean, there were thousands of people around me, but no one I knew) and made myself back to the hotel. The posse was in the bar, and we all drank and shared stories and celebrated the rest of the day.

The end. Until the next marathon. NY? Chicago? Duluth? Boulder? What will it be? I'll be in Denver next week for the marathon. Perhaps? ;)