My journey began about 1 year ago.
So, there I was, living my life in my happy-go-lucky way when the bottom falls out. Everything is turned upside down. My world, as I knew it, was taking a hard turn right...and then left...and then right again. I didn't know where I was going to land and I was under an extreme amount of stress.
So I started to run.
I ran at the time, not for fitness , I ran out of frustration, anger, pain.
Now, those that know me well know this; While I've always been active in some sort of fashion; be it a gym rat, a cyclist, a certified spin instructor - I was not a runner. I never found any joy in it.
But times change and so did I. So, I ran, and ran, and ran, and ran. I had to run, it became and remains, an integral part of my life - and it has changed me forever. It was my therapy, my sanctuary, my peace of mind. A runner was born.
I would go out on those runs frustrated, hurt, mad and full of self-doubt. I would pound those feelings into the pavement and I always returned from my run stronger, more secure and ready; ready for whatever hard right or hard left turn was coming my way.
By November 2009 I ran my first half marathon. I loved it. I noticed days later that everyone in the Atlanta area seemed to be wearing their Half Marathon shirt - apparently, running 13.1 wasn't that uncommon. I wanted to go further.
March, another half marathon. The following months were filled with triathlons of varying distances. A competitor was born; I loved it - and I excelled at. I was actually 'good'. Room for improvement, sure. But I found out I had the ability to be a top finisher at these races, at this level. I was eager and hungry for more.
But the running had always been my passion. I can live without the bike ride or a swim or going to the gym. But I had to run. I have gone to great lengths to get may daily run in. That is a blog for another day. :)
The day finally came - I wanted to run the mother of all races : The Marathon. 26.2 miles. There was no doubt in my mind I could do it. There was fuel and it was lighting my fire : I wanted this and I wanted it bad. The following is my race report, something I wrote about my journey from point A to point B :
Race Report :
By November 2009 I ran my first half marathon. I loved it. I noticed days later that everyone in the Atlanta area seemed to be wearing their Half Marathon shirt - apparently, running 13.1 wasn't that uncommon. I wanted to go further.
March, another half marathon. The following months were filled with triathlons of varying distances. A competitor was born; I loved it - and I excelled at. I was actually 'good'. Room for improvement, sure. But I found out I had the ability to be a top finisher at these races, at this level. I was eager and hungry for more.
But the running had always been my passion. I can live without the bike ride or a swim or going to the gym. But I had to run. I have gone to great lengths to get may daily run in. That is a blog for another day. :)
The day finally came - I wanted to run the mother of all races : The Marathon. 26.2 miles. There was no doubt in my mind I could do it. There was fuel and it was lighting my fire : I wanted this and I wanted it bad. The following is my race report, something I wrote about my journey from point A to point B :
Race Report :
About 7 years ago, waaay before I started running, I found this black windbreaker on sale at a department store. I bought it, for the price alone, thinking one day, I'll need this. It wouldn't see the light of day for almost a decade.
About 18 months ago my world came crashing down. It was one of those periods in time, that we all have, when that bubble you live in just deflates, the wind is knocked out of you, things aren't good...at all. One day, I went for a run and like Forrest Gump, I just kept running. I was hurt, mad, frustrated, hurt...did I say that already?
Running became my therapy, my peace of mind. One of my new running routes took me down some roads with street names such as 'Amelia' and 'St. George'...these were all islands, I knew that and could place them geographically in my mind. But there was one I had never heard of...Kiawah. I always told myself to google that one when I returned home but never did.
Some 6+ months ago I decide it's time..time to train for the mother of all races, the marathon. I search...I find one in South Carolina...great, close to home. And it's flat...even better. And it's the day after my 35th birthday...bingo. This is it...Kiawah Island Marathon. I don't realize the correlation between that street I started to train on many months before when my world was turned upside down and the location of what will be my first marathon until about 30 days ago, when I run that route again. I found it kinda' ironic and chuckled a bit to myself when I looked up to see the street name and now, can place it in my mind.
So, one training day, about 2 weeks ago, it's raining. I reach into the depths of my closet to find something, anything, that is waterproof. I pull out that black windbreaker I had bought almost a decade ago and thought it was perfect...then I notice an 'RW' on the front...I flip it over and under the hoodie in the back it says "RUNNERS WORLD"... now, this I can guarantee: when I purchased this some 7+ years ago, 1. I had never run more than a mile and 2. I had never heard of runnersworld.
I also find this kinda' ironic and again, chuckle to myself.
So, the stage is set and race day arrives...rain and all. Nervous would be an understatement. Based on my last half a couple of months ago, a BQ is definitley possible. I decided to let this goal go ( temporarily) a couple weeks before the race. The stress of getting that goal time was very possibly going to make me push too hard, too soon and potentially, not finish at all.
A late bathroom break puts me far from the start line; there are no start corrals as this in not a large marathon. I start out and the congestion is just killing me. It takes a couple of miles to cut through the congestion at which point I east into a pace. It feels slow, but from what I understand, it should.
The shotblocks, I take 1 block ( not the whole package) about every 1.5 miles. Water at almost every station from about 4 miles on. By mile 17, although still feeling good, I'm sick of shotblocks. I switch to gatorade at one station but the sweetness is just too much. I switch to a sip of water and a sip of gatorade from this point on and all is okay.
I'm fine until about mile 22 and at this point, I'm spent. But I keep chugging along. I pass quite a few people throughout the race. I manage to run the entire way, however there is no doubt I left quite a bit out there, that's for sure. My cardio was fine, legs were fine...my shoulders and lower back were the nagging force this go-around.
Was I disappointed with my time? A little, but the accomplishment alone shines brighter than that disappointment. My first half marathon, not knowing what to expect, was slow, too. And I've only improved in all my following half times. Now that I know what the full is all about, it gives me something to go after for next time : )
It has been, an amazing, amazing journey. They make the marathon that distance for a reason, I'm convinced. There's a big difference between 20, 21 and even 22 vs. the whole 26.2
It's one of those things that kinda' parallels life; it has it's friggin' wonderful moments...the crowds, the volunteers, the other runners, etc. But at some point in the race, it got lonely...and it sucked. And it hurt like hell...but, there is NOTHING like that FINISH LINE! Oh, and the amazing buzz with just one glass of champagne aftewards : ) Or the first meal after running that distance, too. That was pretty great as well.
