Pack Your Bags, Carrie

At mile 13, I was saying, "Pack your bags, Carrie. You’re going to Boston!" By the end of the race, the only bags being packed were the bags of fluid that would eventually end up in my arm at the finish line!

October 19th, 2003 was a picture perfect morning in Columbus, Ohio. I’d forgotten how beautiful the Fall season can be in the Midwest. By the 8am start time, the sun was rising on a clear morning and the temperature hovered in the low 40s...perfect morning for a run.

I had carpooled to the downtown start line with my brother, sister-in-law, cousin and other friends who were also running. It was a community of excitement, nerves, energy, dread and anticipation. The prevailing question of the morning was, "Why on earth are we doing this?" We all knew the answer though...Running a marathon is a personal challenge and triumph. No one forces you to the start line. No one pays you to get up at 5am to run 20 miles. Training for and running a marathon is a personal labor of determination and self-confidence. It makes you a stronger person inside and out (or so I thought).

Let me back up a bit. A week before the Columbus Marathon was the Chicago Marathon. Unfortunately, tragedy struck Ohio during that race. A 29-year-old Professor at Ohio University ran Chicago in an attempt to qualify for Boston. She finished the race, collapsed and died of a heart attack. It seems she had an undetected heart condition that proved to be fatal. I had just gotten off the plane in Columbus when my Mom told me that story. We all tried to laugh it off as "something that could never happen to me," but I know we were all a little nervous about that incident. The girl was a Phys Ed. Instructor at a University. She had trained extensively to run this race. What made her different than anyone else?

My cousin Jen and I lined up with the 3:40 pace group. It was the time we needed to run in order to qualify for the Boston Marathon. Ironically enough, the Pace teams were sponsored by White Castle Hamburgers and they called themselves the "Striding Slyders." Well...if you’ve ever had a White Castle Hamburger, you’ll know why they’re called Slyders. Let’s just say, they make you run fast alright-to the bathroom! For some reason, I thought it was hysterical! Anyways, our pace leaders were so great at explaining how they would run the race. Their plan was to run even splits without stopping at the water stops. They would slow down a bit, but they were going to keep moving.

Surprisingly, the race started right on time and the Pace leaders weren’t kidding about even splits. We came out of the box at an 8:20 pace! I quickly realized that there wouldn’t be time to settle into a slower pace and conserve energy for later. I wore my heart rate monitor and was surprised to look down and see it at 95% of my maximum! Luckily, by mile 4, it had calmed down to between 85-88%. At least I knew I could sustain that level for a while. My parents were going to be stationed at mile 5, but I didn’t get a chance to see them because the 3:40 group was so packed. I happened to be on one side of the street and they were on the other. It would have to wait until the finish line.

As I said earlier, the first half of the race went great! I was feeling good and confident. I saw friends at Mile 10 and cousins at Mile 11. At the halfway point, I saw my brother who had just finished the leg of his relay. I also saw another friend of mine around the same area. I was actually amazed at the general crowd support early on. Several of the neighborhoods organized "neighborhood parties" with food, music, noisemakers, etc. It was great to see and feel.

We started up a small incline at Mile 14 and I was surprised at how winded I was getting. At the half way point, I had taken a Clif Shot so I was expecting the energy to kick in at any time. Water stops were a huge challenge. They seemed to sneak up on us so fast...so much so, that I actually ran through a couple without even knowing it. I was so focused on keeping my pace with the "Striding Slyders" that I didn’t realize just how much I was depriving my body of necessary fluid. When I did stop to get water or Gatorade, it was in such haste because I didn’t want to get too far behind. It was discouraging to look up and see my pace group 30 yards ahead. I lost my cousin at the half way mark. Was she in front of me or behind me? Who knew? We both agreed to run our own races. I was pleasantly surprised to see one other runner from Austin who was in my Runtex training group. She was also attempting to qualify for Boston.

The 5 mile stretch on High Street was relatively flat...We ran through German Village, the Brewery District, Downtown, the revitalized Short North Area, Italian Village, the Ohio State Campus, etc. Each spot brought back so many memories for me. For the first time, I truly appreciated each neighborhood for their distinct character. With a little clarity, I remember thinking, "How cool that I’m running in my Hometown on such a perfect day." The mental clarity was short lived as we turned off High Street and headed towards the biggest hill of the course at Ackerman. It was here at around Mile 18 that I began to break down. I had trained on hills all summer long in Austin, but this one really got me and it wasn’t that big. Volunteers were passing out "gu" at the top of the hill and for some reason, I didn’t grab one even though I knew I’d probably regret that later. I was beginning to feel a little dizzy and my Pace Group was now about 50 yards ahead of me. The balloons they were carrying were still in sight, which meant I could still catch up if I had to. That would be the last time I would see the 3:40 pace balloons. I had to walk for a bit at the 18 mile water stop. My heart rate was back up to 95% and the dizziness continued. I had one Clif Shot left and decided to open it and eat it then. When I started to eat it, I realized my stomach would reject it. I didn’t have enough water so it was going to be more hurtful than helpful. What did I do? I pitched my Clif Shot that I barely touched...another bad call.

I started running again and ran into my friend Lynn around Mile 19. This spot was serendipitous because it’s where she and I lived for two years with other roommates... my old neighborhood. We would run in this very neighborhood in the dead of winter. Back then, it was a struggle to go two miles without stopping. Here I was at Mile 19 and Lynn was there pushing me to keep going. "The Pace Group isn’t that far ahead. You can catch up!" That’s what she was telling me. Unfortunately, my mind at that point had convinced me that I couldn’t. I was about 2 minutes behind pace. Could I really catch up? Maybe so... I picked up the pace and passed through Miles 20 and 21. I looked at my watch and I was 45 seconds off pace. I can do this! I’ve broken through the proverbial wall!

And then I hit Mile 22. I knew my friend Karl was jumping in at Mile 24 to "take me in." It was going to be such a victorious run. I noticed that my surroundings were really getting bad at Mile 22. I remember looking ahead as far as I could and not seeing those damn pace balloons! "Where are they?," I kept thinking, and "Where is my friend Karl? I could certainly use his support right now." Karl has been a dear friend of mine since 1993 when I started as a Promotion Intern at WHOK K-95.5. He’s been a runner for several years and took off a year of his life to complete 52 marathons in 52 weeks to benefit the Leukemia Society. He successfully completed every race! His positive spirit has always been an inspiration.

I also remember people in the crowd yelling "Go Sponge Bob!" Either someone behind me was wearing a Sponge Bob costume or my hallucinations were beginning! I can’t remember if I stopped for water at these stops or not. I think I did because, once again, my mind had turned on me and convinced me that I wasn’t going to make it in time. I should just give up and finish slow and healthy. For some reason, my body just kept running even though my heart rate had been between 92%-95% for several miles.

I finally hit Mile 24 and honestly didn’t know where I was. As promised, Karl was right there and immediately started talking me through it. He swears I had a good pace at that point. I felt like I could’ve crawled faster. He kept saying, "This is what it’s all about. You’ve done the work. You can do this." He asked if I needed anything and I don’t remember my answer. He kept telling me how far I had to go and it seemed like an eternity. On one hand, I was at Mile 25 and I knew I wasn’t going to stop. On the other hand, I just wanted to walk the rest of the way. He informed me that the 25 mile water stop was just ahead and that I really needed to get some water. Of course, I agreed. Someone had also given him a power bar to give to me. Even the thought of that made me nauseaus. As we approached the water stop, I looked down at my watch and swore it said 3:33. That gave me between 7 and 8 minutes to run the last 1.2 miles. I could do it! I told Karl, "Let's just go." Another missed opportunity to get a little hydration. That proved to be the biggest mistake. With every step towards the finish line, my body was becoming more and more decrepid. I liken it to a prune drying up. I was hunched over because I could no longer stand up straight. My lower back and kidneys hurt. My leg muscles were so cramped because they had no glycogen. At that point, my pace slowed down considerably. Karl was still telling me where I was going because I had no clue. I was praying to anyone I could think of and swear I saw them in the crowd. Grandma? Mother Teresa? Wait, they’ve both been dead for several years. I FINALLY rounded the final corner and Karl said, "The finish line is right there!" "I don’t see it," was all I could say. Truth be told, I did see it, but it seemed to get farther away with each step instead of closer. So, this is this .2 part they always talk about. Don’t ever let anyone say a marathon is simply 26 miles. Believe me, I felt the .2! As I’m progressing down the finishing shoot, people were passing me left and right. This is so not how I wanted to finish. I heard several "Go Carrie's." Were my friends and family actually seeing this or were these the dead people I’ve been summoning for the last four miles? Mostly, I heard people yelling, "Go Texas! You can do it!" I had worn my Texas running singlet and the crowd was using anything they had to go by to get me in.

I crossed the finish line on my own will and like any good runner, I had enough wits about me to attempt to stop my watch. I obviously knew at that point that I didn’t qualify for Boston, but I didn’t care. It was over.

I attempted to start walking and stand up straight. Another of my many mistakes that day. As soon as I stopped, I started to collapse. Several medical people were right there to catch me and put me in a wheel chair. They immediately wheeled me into the medical building and started their work. Luckily, Karl was still with me. Somehow, I had my finisher’s medal around my neck. When did they put that on me? In the medical building I was pretty coherent at first. They checked my heart rate - it was way high. They checked my blood pressure - it was way low. Typical signs of dehydration. They wrapped me in blankets and mylar from head to toe so I was now sweating profusely. They started the first IV. Throughout this whole ordeal, I was trying to joke around as much as possible. Since I didn’t qualify for Boston, I had to milk this breakdown for all it was worth. One of the medical people told me I looked like Mother Teresa all wrapped up in my blankets. I told him I was sure I had seen her on the marathon course! I kept telling Karl how much I loved him. He was my hero. If not for him, I would’ve stopped running and walked the last two miles. He truly kept me going and helped me PR that race. Karl offered to go find my parents... For all they knew, I was still running. Or, maybe they saw my painful finish and were trying to find me. It was impossible for Karl to find them amidst the large crowds. After an hour or so, I was able to track down my brother on his cell phone. I was feeling dizzy and nauseous still and they were on their second liter of IV fluid. I could hear other athletes around me bring brought in for similar issues: cramping, dehydration, etc.

My Mom finally found her way in and was incredibly relieved to see me alive and relatively well. She couldn’t show enough gratitude to Karl for being there. It turns out that my parents thought they saw me finish. They were also watching three of their grandkids under the age of six so their attention was diverted. All they saw was someone that looked like their daughter being put in a wheel chair and carted away. My Dad was convinced it wasn’t me. My Mom was convinced it was. After several minutes of not finding me, reality was setting in. Remember - they were thinking of the Ohio runner that collapsed and died the week before with no sign of their kid an hour after I was supposed to finish.

The medical building was only letting one parent in at a time so my Mom went to get my Dad so that he could rest easy knowing that all was going to be well. After two hours of laying there and three liters of fluid, they made me sit up to leave. Boy was I dizzy and my legs were essentially like cement. I had being laying in one position for two hours after running for almost four...no stretching, mo massage. You can only imagine. It was like trying to make a corpse walk again. It was strange to walk outside. The marathon was nearing the 5 1/2 hour mark. For all intensive purposes, it was over and boy was I glad.

It was a great race for everyone that I knew who ran it. My cousin ran her first full marathon in 3:53! My sister-in-law completed her first (and only) marathon in 4:31 and my brother had such a good 1/2 marathon race that he’s vowed to run the Motorola with me in February. I just hope he’s prepared to run a 3:40 because somehow, someway, I will shave off that extra six minutes and I WILL pack my bags for the Boston Marathon!