Napa Valley Marathon 2011

Last things first.  I finished! Hurray! Here's what B and I looked like as we approached the finish line.

The first thing you notice is the big smile on my face.  Yes, it's 26.2 miles later and I'm still smiling.  The next thing you should notice is that I'm not running. That hoppy little power walk was the best I could do after my knee exploded.  But I'm getting ahead of myself.


We drove up to Napa on Saturday afternoon with about 6 bags and the intent to stay just one night.  The rain looked set to persist with 90% chance listed on weather.com.  Simone, our team in training manager had organized an 'Inspiration Dinner' at 6pm so once we stopped by the Expo and registered we headed to meet the rest of the team.  And what an inspiration.  Coach Tim made us laugh by pouring a whole bottle of water over himself in an attempt to demonstrate that humans are waterproof (and ease our worries about the rain); Honoree Todd told his incredible story of survival and shared some extra special news with us; and the whole support team of coaches, captains and mentors provided advice and good wishes and good humor to get us past the nerves that were beginning to wrack my body.  I was never so grateful to be part of this incredible team. 

On Sunday morning we were to meet in the lobby at 5am.  I walked out of my room and saw this taped to the doorstop:

 So cute! After a spirited, "Go Team" during which we woke up nearly the whole hotel, we boarded the buses and headed to the start.  Lots of people were in high spirits and the chatter never stopped while on the bus.  By the time we arrived at the race start at 6:30am we were all ready and raring to go.  B and I joined a line for the port-a-potty and stood in the rain for 15-20 minutes in wait.  Once we found our way to the starting line it was only moments before the gun went off and out we set.

We were both wearing big black trash bags in an attempt to stay warm while hanging around but it wasn't long before we were ready to shed them.  At the 1 Mile marker we threw them to the curb and just embraced the steady rainfall.  Neither of us really minded the rain, understanding that it kept us cool.  In fact the rain lent an air of serenity and calmness to the whole affair as it dampened the sound of so many runners.  The vineyards on either side of the road were hushed and the fog that shrouded all but the first line of trees on the ridges of hills was really beautiful.

At Mile 9 we saw the first group of supporters that we knew.  B's whole family, equipped with signs, were there to cheer us on.  As it turned out we were running a fairly good pace; good enough that Sean just missed us, having expected us to be there some 10 minutes later.  On we went.  B and I chatted occasionally, discussing everything from family to weddings to plans for the future.  It's amazing how running long distance can bring people together so quickly.  We passed Mile 13 and my knees were still feeling good.  I was secretly dreading this Mile marker because it was where my left knee had given in on the 20 mile run.  I remember at Mile 15 saying to B, "I'm already here and no knee pain!"

We knew our friends and family were also planning to wait for us at Mile 16, but we were beginning to hurt by then, so as we approached we told each other, "Let's show a good face. Head up, Big Smiles." We did a good job:

 

But as soon as we passed by both of us slumped a little.  We were tired.  There was a long way to go.  My knees started to hurt and I spent a lot of mental energy purposely ignoring the pain.  At Mile 18 we met up with Coach Megan, who jogged along side with a perky upbeat dialog.  She asked how I was doing and I said my knees hurt but they weren't yet at the point where I was modifying my stride because of the pain.  Unfortunately the pain increased quickly.

At Mile 19 I started to cry.  Every step I took resulted in knife sharp pain starting at my knee and shooting all the way up my leg to my hip.  Megan tried to gauge how bad it was and provide encouragement but I became convinced that I simply couldn't run anymore and wouldn't finish the race.  B was concerned but also struggling and as we had come so far together I really didn't want to let her down.  I had a moment of shame and disappointment and horror.  I nearly gave up.  But Megan was so amazing with her encouragement and advice. "It'll take you longer to reach the finish line if you wait for someone to pick you up than if you walk, at this stage.  So you might as well just keep walking," she said.  So I kept walking.  And slowly slowly I discovered that if I power walked at a fast clip and kept my legs straight, the pain went away.  I was able to focus on walking so fast that I could keep up with B's run, though every time we slowed down I had to grit my teeth and clench my fists to get through the pain. 

Despite initially only planning to stay with us for a mile or so, Megan stayed with us until just before the 23 mile marker, providing encouragement and chatter the whole way.  She saved us both and B and I are so grateful for her help.  At that point I had tried to run and had been forced to stop with the pain several times and I just resolved to power walk all the way in.  

In the last 3 miles, Coach Tim, Coach Kris and Mentor Erin all ran or walked with us for a while, providing encouragement and cheers.  Despite the pain and fatigue, we kept our spirits up and reached the finish line 5 hours 20 minutes after we crossed the start line, with smiles on our faces .  B ran her first marathon and I managed to finish despite a bandjaxed knee. We both had a lot to be proud of.

3 Days To Go

It's Thursday afternoon and my marathon is just a few days away.  My knee is feeling much better and as I'm in taper and haven't run much in the last few weeks I have SO much energy.  I'm trying very hard not to use all that energy up by jumping up and down and I'm having some success.  I CAN'T WAIT to get started. 

I'm not sure why I'm not more nervous.  My logical thinking brain keeps butting in and telling my super excited emotive brain that I should try and remember how hard it was last time, how much I had to fight for those twenty six miles and how I should probably be prepared for that again.  But the little zinginess in my chest insists that what will happen in three days time is akin to going home to Ireland or Christmas morning - the other times I feel like this. 

I'm reading a book written by Dean Karnazes about the time he ran 50 marathons in 50 states in 50 days (yeah I know, he's completely nuts).  He has a description of how a first time marathoner feels on race day that I read this morning and I wanted to share with you here today.  This is how I want to feel again on Sunday:

"Crossing a marathon finish line for the first time is a life changing moment and, doing it, you prove something to yourself that can never be taken away.  You walk away with hard experiential evidence that you are strong, resilient and gutsy. 26.2 miles is just a long way to go, no matter who you are. Any time you are able to take on and overcome a challenge of such proportions you come away with benefits in the form of confidence, self respect and fearlessness that never fade.

Even if the process of training for a marathon were not extremely health promoting I would still encourage everyone to run at least one marathon because of its powerful effects on the mind and spirit. After all, don't we spend enough of our lives doubting ourselves?  Thinking we're not good enough, not strong enough, not made of the right stuff?

The marathon gives you an opportunity to tackle these doubts head on so you train hard, you dedicate yourself, you sacrifice.  You overcome countless smaller challenges along the way but you know the marathon will ask for even more.  In the recesses of your mind, a gloomy voice is saying, "You can't."  You do your best to ignore this self doubt but the voice doesn't go away. 

On the morning of your first marathon the voice of doubt multiplies, becoming a full chorus.  By Mile 20 this chorus is screaming so loudly it's all you can hear. Your sore and weary muscles beg you to stop.  You must stop.  But you don't stop.  This time you ignore the voice of doubt.  You tune out the naysayers who tell you you're not good enough and you listen only to the passion in your heart.

Courage comes in many forms.  Today you discover the courage to keep trying, to not give up.  At the 25 mile mark, your vision falters and your mind teeters on the edge of consciousness.  And then, suddenly, the finish looms before you, like a dream.  A lump builds in your throat as you cover those final few steps.  Now you are finally able to answer back to that nagging voice with a resounding, "Oh Yes I Can."  You burst across the finish line filled with pride, forever liberated from the prison of self doubt.

You have learned more about yourself in the past 26.2 miles than you have ever learned in any other single day in your life. Even if you can't walk afterward you have never been so free.  A marathon finish is more than just something you earn; a marathoner finisher is someone you become.  As you are being helped away from the finish line, wrapped in a flimsy Mylar blanket, barely able to raise your head, you are at peace.  No future struggle, doubt or failure can wipe away what you accomplished today.  You have done what few will ever do, what you thought you could never do, and it is the most glorious unforgettable awakening.  You are a marathoner and you will wear this distinction, not on your lapel but in your heart for the rest of your life. "

Inspired yet?  Can I convince you to come and run a marathon with me one day?