The Second Half of the Marathon

You know that saying...that the first 20 miles are the first half of a marathon? Well, I'm glad I didn't know this before, but it is right. This may not be the case for most people, but it certainly was for me.

The last update took us through mile 21, so let's continue.

Miles 21-22: I'm not sure when it happens, but somewhere between these two miles I literally feel my training running out. I start thinking about how long these last miles are, and how much they are going to hurt. A swift TNT coach from another chapter runs up behind us to ask us how we're doing. This group is so supportive, and I'm so happy to be surrounded by great teammates, coaches, and volunteers. I figure that even if these miles hurt, I'll make it through this.

Miles 22-23: We stop for a quick stretch and walk break in here somewhere. We walk about 50 feet before I realize walking is infinitely more painful right now than running. My hips feel as though they could just pop out of their sockets...totally unrealistic, but that is how they feel. As much as I think walking would solve all my problems, it can't, I have to keep running...that in itself feels a bit scary.

Miles 23-24: We run underneath an overpass and pass a couple of Army Rangers. These are the tough guys. I have been able to recognize them since I was a little kid because of their haircuts. One of them is barking at the other one, trying to encourage him in a very male/testosterone-filled way. I am thankful I am running with über-positive Julie, and I feel bad for the guy, briefly considering telling him he can run with us if he wants to...we are nicer (or at least Julie is).

Just before this photo, Julie tells me I need to start smiling more because it looks like Mark is getting really worried.



We start thinking about our honored teammate, Jodie, and about how positive she always is. About how much she has had to endure. About how this is nothing compared to the leukemia treatments she's been through. I start thinking about my dad. I remember him in the hospital bed in the ICU and I know for certain that this is nothing compared to that. I start to get a little teary, but the lump in my throat makes it harder to breath so I try to turn that faucet off and instead use their experiences as inspiration.

We run through some really lovely parts of Anchorage en route to the finish.



Miles 24-25: We start running around the lake and see Steph, our TNT organizer. She is so happy and cheery and proud of us that for a minute I forget how bad I feel. We pass her and I look across the lake and see these little ants, quickly realizing the ants are other runners, and that we will be running around the entire lake before the hill up to the finish. We can hear the announcer up in the high school stadium where we finish, that gives us a little hope. I have a bit of a headache and feel a little fuzzy and odd. I assume that is probably because I haven't had enough of my energy gel, so I force myself to get more of that down. Blech!

We pass by a woman named Faith standing on the right side of the path. We have heard about her, and we are so happy to see her. Faith is a survivor, and she is out on this course for hours every year to thank each and every TNT participant and offer much-needed encouragement. When your lives cross paths with special people like this, it almost seems as though now and then our names really do match who we are. I know Faith's does.

I feel like I am crawling along at a snail's pace, but Julie keeps telling me I'm starting to run too fast. Now and then I feel completely out of breath and ask she and Heidi to slow up a bit. Strange...how could both of these things be happening from one minute to the next. It finally dawns on me that I must be completely unaware of running speed right now.

Miles 25-26.2: We get around the lake and I feel like I can run up "Insult Hill." I feel like I have just one shot and I can't mess that up. Coach Sue takes our photos at the bottom, but I am pretty incoherent so I'm not sure I even want to see that photo. I feel like I can only focus on small goals. I may hear the finish, but this hill is my main problem at the moment.

We turn a corner to see that the hill continues. Ugh!

Finally, at the top of the hill we start the run in to the stadium. We pass Travis, the lone guy on our TNT team, and he is wrapped in one of those silver, paper-thin emergency blankets everyone gets at the end of a marathon. That snaps me back to reality. We will finish this. Others from our group have finished. We only have a little ways left to go.

I see Mark just outside the school. We have seen him at least 3-4 times in these last miles. He is always there when we round a corner to offer encouragement...as Julie told me, "He is a good man." He looks so happy and proud of me. I momentarily forget all this pain searing through my legs and body. We keep plodding along. From somewhere out further than my vision can currently see I hear Jodie yell, "Go Michelle! Go Julie! Go Heidi!" She is so great.

We are really close to the finish when a woman yells out, "Only half a mile to go." This is not what you want to hear when you thought you had only maybe 400 yards or so left. We get past this, and then I suddenly see the finish.

We somehow manage to run as though we haven't already run 26 miles. We turn the corner onto the track and start smiling. We are so close it is ridiculous. We run through the finish with our arms in the air. We pick up our finisher medals. Mark takes photos of me with my fantastic running buddies. Can you tell it rained on us for 4+ hours?



I start to walk and remember how painful it is. I slowly hobble my way toward getting my own emergency space blanket. It is so wonderful to be finished and surrounded by so many happy people.

Later, Julie's stepdaughter Kate mentions that, wrapped in our silver space blankets, we all look like baked potatoes. I feel a bit like a baked potato too.

So This Is What All That Training Was For

Race Start: We line up in the starting chute and the air just feels positively electric. There is a lot of giggling and maniacal laughter. It is as if at this moment we all realize this is what all that training was for. I am excited about the race, and really nervous, and also wondering if I'm a little crazy for running 26.2 miles voluntarily. Logically, I know I've prepared for this, but there is still that part of me that is wondering if I am ready, did I train enough, will I get through this? Well...I guess we're about to find out.

Mile 0-1: It takes us about a minute or so to go under the start banner, and then we start our watches. There are three of us running together: me, Julie, and Heidi. We shuffle along, trying to move through the pack and also trying to stay together, or at least within eye contact. The first mile ends up being a bit slow, but we are happy with this, as it means we aren't so nervous that we are blazing out the gates too fast. Going out too fast has come back to bite us before, and we collectively decided that if we come through the first mile a minute or more faster than we expect to, we'll have to hammer down on the pace. Our primary goal is to cross the finish line, speed is not really a factor. Maybe for another marathon, but not this one. First we need to know we can do this, and it is really important to each of us that we finish this. I feel like I am running with the support and good luck of so many family members and friends, and finishing this race is really important to me.

Miles 2-4: It is lightly raining, which feels nice, and we are moving along right at our pace. We're running on a paved trail that runs alongside the Glenn Highway. A lot of cars honk and wave. There are people pulled over at the side of the freeway cheering. So far, this feels pretty fun. We pass people, people pass us. Julie sees someone she knows from Portland (she knows everyone...a byproduct of her being the most friendly person on the planet). I realize quickly that I've overhydrated and must make a quick stop at mile 4. (And the cold doesn't help much...I swear my bladder must constrict in cold weather...I always have to climb out of the tent in the middle of the night when we're camping too.) Frustrating.

Miles 5-8: Three of these miles are on a paved road, and the last mile is on a gravel road. They seem to fly by. I think all of us are holding our breath for miles 9-15, waiting to see what "tank trail" really means.

Miles 9-16: We see Mark just before the tank trail starts. He asks me if I need anything from my backpack (packed with everything from extra shoes and socks to extra energy gel to my MP3 player), and I tell him, "Nope, I don't need anything, I'm good." We are still looking chipper and feeling like nothing in the world can take us down.



We turn the corner from the aid station onto the tank trail. Tank trail means uphill, downhill, gravel, mud, some rock, and a generally meandering course. The hills are tough, but so are we. We have trained on the Leif Erickson trail all spring, and we can run uphill about as fast as we run downhill (sore knees slow us down). A hanging mist fills the hills surrouding us, and rain starts to fall a bit more steadily. We know we'll be dealing with hills until we are through mile 13, so each mile marker we pass makes us happier. My right arch starts to cramp a bit, as my feet aren't used to all this uneven ground. I try to concentrate on running in the tank ruts, but now and then it is a bit muddier there, so I need to keep my eyes right in front of me. Because I'm concentrating on my feet, I don't seem to notice the hills as much.

On the way up a hill somewhere in the mile 12-13 region, a guy with a big goofy hat in front of us tells us we have just one more hill to go. Woohoo! But then we run up another hill, and another one, and I think even one or two more. I see Mark again at mile 13, a third of the way up the long slog up the last big hill.



We are muddy, but we are still feeling good. I need to make another pitstop at mile 15 with some stomach issues...annoying. I'm lucky I have running partners that are nice enough to wait for me. I race out of the porta potty a bit peeved and wishing for one of those iron-clad stomachs. At mile 15 we realize we only have 11.2 to go, and we are still feeling really good so that makes us almost giddy. In this section of the course we run up some narrow winding trails, run over some creeks, and basically are enjoying a wonderful trail run. We come off the tank trail onto a gravel road, which brings us back to pavement at mile 17.

Miles 17-21: I'm not sure what happens to me at around mile 17, but I start to feel the collective work I've been doing for the previous hours weigh down on me. I see Mark at about my worst point on mile 17, and he looks concerned. I manage to put on a relatively happy face for this photo:



Somehow, after running over a freeway overpass and telling Julie that I am going to treat myself to a huge latte at the end of this, I manage to pull it together and feel good for another few miles, although I am beginning to feel like I'm running on autopilot. I'm not looking around as much. I'm starting to focus on the most basic of needs...food, water, self preservation. I am eating bits and pieces of pretzel to try to keep my stomach under control. I am trying to get down some of the energy gel I've brought, but still having a tough time with that. At this point I know I'm going to finish, but I have absolutely no idea what is waiting for me in those last few miles.

Those miles really deserve their own special post.

Don't You Think My Outfit Looked Cute?

So the big day arrives and we sleep through our 4:30 am alarm. Good thing we called down for a wake-up call for 4:50 am. We wake up, wander around, Julie makes coffee. I actually take a shower, which is a bit random since I am just going out sweat for 4+ hours.

I look out the window at the rain falling. I am secretly happy, because I was terrified Friday's 75° day would repeat itself. I try to think of what I can possibly wear, since a tank top just isn't going to cut it in the rain. I don't yet know the temperature, but it looks cold out there.

I get dressed in my crazy outfit, mix my GU2O and fill my water bottles, and drink some of Julie's Gatorade. I look down and realize I haven't yet had my oatmeal. I scurry around to make my oatmeal and eat that while looking out the window at the steady rain, beginning to worry about the cold.

We hurry down to the hotel lobby after the fastest tooth-brushing session ever to meet our team, get some important advice from Coach Sue (which I was too nervous to actually hear), and load into buses for the start. The start area is at a local high school, and Mark finds us in the porta potty line, always the most crowded place before the start of any race, much less a long, long race.

Do I look nervous or what? And don't you think my outfit looks fabulous? I hadn't really planned on cold or rain, or I probably wouldn't have packed the sunbeam stripe as my only long-sleeved running top. This is what I get for packing light.



Here we are, looking ready to run.



Stay tuned for details and photos from the actual race. I need to get a bit of sleep.

The Day Before The Marathon

After a weird night of sleep in a room that never really got completely dark, Julie (my roommate on the trip and running buddy throughout our training) and I woke up to go for our 2-mile team run. That went well, I think I only got one mosquito bite.

Mark picked me up after the run and we were off to visit my friend Terrill. I last saw Terrill at my high school reunion, so I was really glad we were able to visit her. Terrill picked up some great fixings for lunch, so we were able to just hang out at her house and watch her kids chase Mark around the yard with a couple of huge water guns. Mark was soaked, the kids were soaked, and everyone was having a good time. At one point, her son Patrick ran up to me and said, "Your husband is SSOOOOO MUCH FUN!" And just as quickly he ran off to chase Mark some more. Thanks, Terrill for a nice and relaxing afternoon. It was just what I needed to get my mind off of my marathon nervousness.

Later, Mark dropped me off at the hotel so I could trek to the Team in Training pasta party with the rest of my team. The presentations and speakers during dinner were incredibly motivating. It was great to really see the impact The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society is able to make through this program, and it is wonderful to feel a part of something that is really making a difference in cancer treatments. The pasta party was filled with Team in Training groups from every state except for two (South Dakota and *maybe* Alabama). Of the marathon/half-marathon's 3,857 participants, 1,335 were Team in Training fundraisers. In total, we raised 5.3 million dollars that The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society will put to good use funding research and various patient support programs.

At the pasta party, we knew the next day was going to be special. I knew that the course would be filled with hundreds of positive, friendly, and kind faces...all of us out there running for cancer survivors around the world, and really representing all of you who have supported this great organization with your donations. It was one of those moments that truly made me understand the phrase "strength in numbers." Even thinking about it now just makes me smile.

One Team in Training participant was missing his high school graduation to run this marathon, so they had him come up and put on a cap and gown so they could award him his actual diploma...that will surely be memorable for him. John Bingham, a Runner's World columnist, was the main speaker. He is a pretty funny guy, and he managed to give us some marathon advice while making us laugh to boot. (Example: if you see a bear on the course, you really only need to run faster than one other person.)

After the pasta party, I came back to the hotel, decorated my race singlet, got all my gear organized, and basically tried to relax. At about 8:30 pm, Julie and I decided we were still pretty hungry (had no protein at dinner) so we ordered a chicken quesadilla from room service. I've never ordered room service...they don't usually have that at the Super 8, do they? In any case, we figured we need to stay fueled with good food. Microwave popcorn probably wouldn't work, so we'd need to fork out the nine dollars to get some real food.

I tried so hard to get to sleep by 9:30 pm. Our alarm was set for 4:30 am, and I wanted to get in some solid sleep before the big day. After tossing and turning for what felt like forever, I think I finally fell asleep around 10:30 pm. It was still quite light outside.

My Trip North

So, rather than start by just telling you about the marathon, I thought perhaps I'd share some other entertaining tidbits from my trip.

I rarely travel solo, usually Mark is along for the trip as well. He also went to Alaska, but he flew up separately because he wanted to use frequent flier miles, and he stayed at a friend's house for the first few nights as I was staying with a roommate from my team. In any case, I think when you are traveling with another person you encounter less odd stuff. Either you notice it less because you are wrapped up in your own conversations, or people leave you alone more...not sure which.

On the flight up, I found my way to my window seat and the ever-so-helpful man in the aisle seat (same row) helped me find a place for my backpack in the overhead bin. He also put my coat up there for me. I am tall enough to do this myself, but he was just being helpful and friendly. No big deal. I sat down and pulled out my magazine. He asked me if I live in Alaska. I said, "nope." A bit of small talk ensued, nothing major. I leaned just a bit forward so I could twist my left arm around and itch my shoulder blade. This man then reached out and SCRATCHES MY BACK! I was startled and a bit taken aback, thinking, "This guy is just a bit too helpful and friendly." Just then, thankfully, the middle seat of our row arrived to save me. Woohoo! The middle seat guy smelled a bit like fish, but fish is fine by me so long as there is no more back scratching.

We took off and I was a bit sleepy, feeling like I could nap at any moment. I was happy because I can so rarely sleep on planes, and a nice long nap would make this 3-hour flight pass much more quickly. Then, right behind me I heard this booming laugh and a very loud voice. I think the loudest woman on the planet was sitting behind me. Her really loud conversation took us pretty much the whole way to Anchorage. I now know her life story. Her family moved to Alaska in the 40s. She has lived in Atlanta, now lives in Portland, and will be moving to LA in just a few weeks. I am not one to complain about anything on a plane, since most of us are terribly uncomfortable in those seats anyway, but boy was I close to talking to one of the flight attendants. I was close to sleep once, but her laughter actually jolted me awake and, not kidding, was painful to my ears.

I was happy to arrive in Anchorage with hearing still intact.

I Did It!

Woohoo! We had a rough day with a tough course and quite a bit of weather, but we made it from start to finish. More details to come soon! I'll also try to download a few of the photos that Mark took along the course. We started out quite spry looking and finished looking more like muddy and exhausted drowned rats!

I'm Liking This Taper Thing

So, my long run this past weekend was 10 miles, and that felt mostly really good. I ran about 4.5 miles today, and I felt pretty strong. I was able to run faster than I have in a while, which was nice. I'll run a couple more times this week, but both of those will probably be shorter runs between 3 and 4 miles. After the mammoth 3.5-hour 20-mile run, these short 25 to 40 minute outings go by pretty quickly.

I am feeling nervous about the marathon, but confident that I'll be able to get through it. I'm not sure yet if I'll decide that this is something I'll want to do again. I used to think people who ran this far were a bit nuts, and even at the start of this effort this marathon was only meant to be a one-time thing for me. Now that I've spent all this time training, I can see how people train for and run one marathon after another. Even the lengthy training hours really bring a feeling of accomplishment. I am amazed myself that I can run 20 miles.

Our friend Jim has run 30 marathons, and is hoping to eventually complete one in each state. We are trying to talk him into a marathon on the West Coast because we'd like to see him and Linda, and we'd like to meet Regan. Perhaps we can convince him to make the trek by entering another race ourselves. Yes, that includes Mark, since I think he should try this out once too. Although, if Mark and I both run a marathon, I'd be waving goodbye to him at the start line and he'd probably be taking a nice celebratory nap by the time I rolled across the finish line.

The Nerves Are Creeping In

I keep thinking and saying I'm not nervous, but I can see the physical signs that indicate the nerves are indeed there. My hands are dry and terrible, as my ezcema seems to flare up when I freak out.

Tonight we had our big send-off potluck. We picked up all of our information, our race singlets, and our gummi bears (one for each mile, a gift from our run coach, Lorrie). We asked a ton of questions. We talked about what to eat the night before and when to eat it. We talked about what we'd eat for breakfast (this varied from oatmeal to PB&J to eggs and toast). We talked about the weather and what we'd wear. We talked about the tank trail we'll be running on for a good 6 miles or so. We talked about the hills and about how difficult this was going to be. And after all that, we decided that this would indeed be painful, but that we'd all be just fine.

Take Your Puppies to the AirPet Hotel

I want to send out a big thanks to our friends, Carrie and Geoff, for their awesome donation to The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. Your donation was such a nice surprise yesterday. I will be thinking of Geoff's mom as I run.

Carrie and Geoff play ultimate frisbee with Mark now and then. They were all on the same team a few years ago. Geoff has this great business boarding and taking care of pets near the airport...the AirPet Hotel. I've always thought this was such a great idea, since those of us with pets are always scrambling to find someone to care for them while we're away. The AirPet Hotel seems ultra convenient, and it looks like they work around your schedule too, which is nice. It usually seems like when our friends have pets boarded elsewhere they can only pick up/drop off their pets at certain times/days, which I imagine would only add to travel stress...and no one wants more of that.

Thanks, Jason & Amy

Over the weekend another great donation came in! Thanks so much, Jason & Amy, for supporting this great cause. Hopefully we are able to see you soon, either up here or perhaps on our way to another ultimate tournament.

The running is going well. I ran about 5 miles today and felt really good. The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. I mostly just ran a few errands and caught up on things around here. For whatever reason I'm really tired, so I think I'm going to make myself some tea and then get to sleep.

Fast/Crash

We had a great time at the Pre Classic today with Pat & Ellen.

I will not ever be as fast as any of these women. And that is okay. Unfortunately, the field in this race was large and stayed packed together. About 600 meters into this 1500-meter race there was a pretty bad mixup (check out this photo) that took four to five women out of the race.



Many of these athletes are simply amazing. Pole vaulter Toby "Crash" Stevenson is also pretty entertaining. Check out his celebratory air guitar after he cleared his height:



He'd later snap a pole in half on his way up, which gave everyone on our side of the track a big scare. After the meet, we ate ribs at the Outback. Yum. All in all...a pretty fabulous day.