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I never wanted to run a marathon. In September my friend (and workout
partner) Malia suggested we sign up for the Austin Fit program and register for the
Motorola Half Marathon. I'd never run more than a mile before (and that was
only to pass 8th grade P.E.) so 13 miles seemed daunting, but I wanted to lose
some weight, and enjoyed working out with Malia, so I agreed. A week later I,
along with several other friends, received an e-mail from Malia that said
something like, "Hey guys, I did it, I registered - but not for the Half Marathon -
I registered for the FULL Marathon!" Yikes!!!
Five months and 7 days later - BRRRR, it was cold. I was hoping to run a five
hour marathon, but knew I'd probably end up closer to 5:15 with restroom
breaks. Unfortunately, Dr. Spears had given Malia the "thumbs down" on running
after a hip injury, so I trained the last few months with my husband Paul. Paul
and I huddle together near the 12 minute mile starting marker.
My game plan was to do everything EXACTLY as I'd done the training runs - run
8 minutes, walk 1, take a 2-3 break at each hour to eat part of a Clif bar,
and drink PowerAde at every walk (I can't tell you how thankful I am to
PowerAde and the volunteers for handing out bottles at every mile!).
As the race begins I am careful to step hard on the mats that read the timing
chip on my shoe. I know these are reliable, but also know my parents are up
early in Arizona to watch my progress on the Internet, and want to make sure
they see I have begun. Eight minutes into the race, I can't believe it's walk
break time already. I usually live for those, but now it's tough to make
myself stop (especially since everyone else is running past me). Eight minutes
and 42 seconds into the race, apparently Paul feels the same way because he
takes off running. I decide to stick with the plan, and figure I'll catch him
soon.
At the 10K mark, I again step hard on the chip-reading pad so my parents know
I'm still in there. I gave up trying to catch Paul around mile 5, worried
since I had his food in my pack, but hoping he'd grab some when he saw Malia and
her husband Willie (who went out as our "ground crew" since they weren't able
to run). Around 10 miles, I see Malia and Willie on the roadside - I've
never been so happy to see familiar faces in my life! "You're running WAY too
fast," Malia says. "You're at a 10 minute mile pace!" I tell her I feel great
though, pause to chat for a minute, then jog away. I am surprised at how good
I feel so far, and credit it entirely to the great people along the roadside.
Who knew that many people would be out in the cold to cheer us on?? I pass a
guy with a sign that says, "Pride lasts longer than pain." It becomes my
mantra through the toughest parts of the race.
Approaching downtown, around mile 12, I see the dome of the Capitol building
rising above the others. I think to myself, "Now here's something I never
thought I'd be doing. Living in Texas, running a marathon and looking at the
Capitol building." I giggle out loud.
Mile 13 there is a split where the marathoners go to the right, and the
full marathoners go straight. A volunteer calls to me, "full marathon?" I nod
yes. He points me straight - I look longingly at the finish line to the right,
but run past.
From miles 16 to 17 I'm running up Lake Austin Blvd. as people who are ahead
of me pass going the other direction. I hear Keith yell "go Carrie," and I
give him a smile and a "thumbs up" sign. A minute later the Bauer's pass and
yell as well. Smiles for another mile thinking of my friends who are running.
Mile 18 I see Malia and Willie again on the roadside, but this time they're
not alone. Malia points to Stephen standing with them and says she's found me
a running partner. I oscillate between being sad for Stephen, I know he
wanted to his second marathon faster than this, and being ecstatic that I have a
friend to run with. I take the Advil and pretzels offered by Malia and Willie,
and Stephen and I are off again. I tell him he can leave me if he wants, as I
know he runs faster than me, but he says we're going to run it in together.
Utter relief and happiness. I ask if he takes walk breaks (because I'm not
going to run the last 8 miles without them!) and he replies, "I cherish them."
More relief!
Although the last 10K of a marathon is rumored to be the toughest part, that
was not the case for me. My right foot hurt terribly with every step, as did
my left thigh (which I suspect was trying to compensate for that right foot),
and the bottoms of my feet felt every rock and crack in the street. But I had
a friend to run with, and we talked and laughed (and winced and whined).
Mile 20-something I see Coach Lisa (orange wieners!) on the side of the road with
a sign. I'd known she was sick and may not be able to run. "I'm so sorry,"
I yell to her. She replies, "That's ok, you have fun for both of us!" At
mile 23 Stephen, who had run the marathon two years prior, said, "Your entire
marathon is now just a 2 mile run - it's all downhill from mile 25."
Mile 25 finally, and Stephen is right, this is much easier than the previous
two miles. People along the streets are yelling to us, "You're going to
finish! You're almost there!" Stephen suggests we run it in, and I suggest we
take a walk break in five minutes so we can look strong and smile as we cross the
finish. He agrees and we take our break as we pass the rock band on the
roadside. We pick up the pace a minute later but run into Stephen's father at
mile 26. Stephen tells me to go ahead and finish, but I'm thankful for the
unscheduled walk break. After introductions and mugging for Mr. Marquez's video
camera we run into the finish line turn.
On the left I hear Quinn and Joe yell "Carrie, Stephen," and look over at
them. Joe is in a heavy coat and I think how nice it is for all these people to
have come out in the cold. On the right Malia and Willie yell our names, and
they are both holding cameras so Stephen and I smile and wave. We nearly at
the finish line and I say to Stephen, "We're doing it. We're really going to
have run a marathon." We "high-five" and yell "queso" referring to our
celebration plans for the evening (Margarita's and queso).
For the last time, I step hard on the chip time mat at the finish line and
realize I've just run a marathon (5:12:22). Stephen and I hug, and I lean down
so they can put the finisher's medal around my neck. I can't believe how good
I feel. My legs don't work quite right, but it's not as bad as I thought it
might be. We walk inside where Stephen's wife Letty and my husband are
waiting; having both finished their first marathon as well. Celebration ensues!
After reflecting on the experience, I've decided running a marathon should be
like winning an Emmy - slightly less glamorous, but you should get the chance
to publicly thank the people who got you there. Thanks Malia for getting me
into this (and I do mean that seriously - not with the sarcasm with which I
usually say it!), and for supporting me the whole way. Thanks Willie also, for
being there that day with your arsenal of supplies. Thanks Coach Lisa for
teaching me how to run, when to eat, and that it's just "left, right, left, right."
Thanks Norma and Jeff for the cheers and extra walk break when both were
needed. Thanks Joe and Quinn for going out in the cold, and for all the
encouragement over the past six months. Thanks and congrats to Letty, Stephen, Chris,
Heather, Keith, Lynda and my husband Paul, all of whom finished the marathon
that day as well. Thanks Stephen for making the last 8 miles the best of the
run for me. Thanks Paul for putting up with me in training (walk breaks, 12
minute miles, lost gloves and a LOT of whining). January 11, 2004 Rock and Roll
Marathon in Arizona - who's with me???
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