Marathon- Part DOS

I've kept you on the edge of your seat with the anticiaption of part 2, haven't I? Well, I can't say that the reason I have taken 2 weeks to write is because I have been staying healthy, in shape, and maintaining my running lifestyle. Quite literally, I have done the opposite: the fat, happy, glutenous slob lifestyle has taken over. So my only excuse for not writing is, well, I am lazy.

So where did I leave off? Oh yes: Mile 10 made me realize I was on a suicide mission. I just got tired, that's really the only way to explain it. My mind was all "You can do this, you can! Keep going!" but my body was all "Shoo gurl, I is tired, enough wit dis runnin' sh*t." I have never been one to complain about the hills of Memphis because, well, there aren't any. But as I came up to the 1% incline on Poplar just before LeBonheur Children's Hospital, I swear to you, I was either delirious or the road ACTUALLY morphed into a 15,000 foot tall volcano of death. I know Memphis is not known for volcanoes, but I swear to you, I am not making this up. I just put my head down, distracted myself with a GU gel, and tried to think of something else... like elephants, my favorite childhood outfit, and my future/non-existent wedding day- anything that randomly flew into my head and distracted me from the lava surrounding me as I plowed up the volcano on Poplar Ave in Downtown Memphis. Add it to your list of tourist attractions the next time you come visit.

Once I made it past the volcano, I began to feel a little better. Then the 1/2 marathon group slipt off. As I approached the giant flashing lights saying " <---- FULL MARATHON, HALF MARATHON ---> " I kinda felt all badass and super-hero, like "Yea, that's right, I am going left, what of it? Ain't no thang, just runnin' a marathon!" I felt like I was the center of attention of the entire world at that moment, making the (insane) decision to go left, to pass the point of no return. That whole super-hero feeling lasted about, oh, I'd say 23 seconds- until I realized that the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd of runners AND the streets lined with spectators were a thing of the past. Cue western theme music and tumbleweeds. Again, maybe I was delirious or hidden speakers ACTUALLY started playing Celien Dion's "All By Myself", I don't know. I am beyond the point of trying to decipher what actually did happen during the race and what was a byproduct of my running-induced psychotic break that began around mile 10.

Miles 12-15 were so... effing... boring. Literally in the Memphis ghetto, not a spectator in sight, maybe 4 runners ahead of and behind me within eyesight... I'm not gonna lie, it sucked ass. Luckily, I had my killer music to keep me going. I had a little dance party in my head, and that kept me from crying of loneliness.

How was I feeling? My ankles were fine, oddly enough. My right knee/IT band was in pain. My lips were so chapped. It was starting to get pretty hot out. I was slowing down a bit, but I was still at about a 12 minute pace.

At mile 16 I saw Kevin and Maureen. All I could say was "My lips hurt real bad, I need chapstick." Those are the only words that I could form into a sentence that would make sense. But, again, seeing them made my heart fill with doodles of butterflies and hearts and flowers, which carried me 1 more mile until I saw Eszter and got another photo shoot.

At mile 17.5, I think I met Jesus. There was a bartender from the Slider Inn standing on the corner handing out cups of beer. I literally stopped running, stood in front of him, and asked, "Is that beer?" "You betcha! Want one?" "Will you marry me?" I took the beer, pounded it, threw the cup, screamed, and moved on. Yes. That's right. I drank a beer at mile 17. HOW BADASS AM I?!

When I got to mile 18, I was all "Wow, hey, check this out, from here on out, every single step I take is the farthest I have ever run!" That was cool and all, and I basked in that glory for a good 5 minutes, but I could feel myself quickly approaching THE WALL. Oh dear, the wall. That lovely mythical running nightmare. Well, let me tell you, my friends, IT AINT NO MYTH. Literally, one minute I was feeling like 7 more miles was totally doable, and the next minute I was getting ready to call a cab and ask him to bring an axe to cut my legs off. Instead, I called Omar for a pep-talk. That was much more productive.

It was hot as balls now. The sun was frying me- who things to put on sunblock for a race in friggin' December?! Not this girl. Bring on the farmer's tan. I started taking 2 cups at each water station- 1 to drink, and 1 to throw over my head and face like a sexy super model. I actually pictured myself in slow motion as I did it, shaking my head from side to side, looking all sensual... again, psychotic delusions running rampant, cuz lord knows I was the furthest thing from a Playboy model at that point.

I saw the cheerleaders at mile 20.5ish, and this picture says it all, I don't even need to explain:

I think I may have actually been telling Kevin to find a crossbow and put me out of my misery, not sure. Ask him.

OK that is all you get for now. Bye!

I ran an effing marathon- PART 1

I bet you've been checking my blog every 48 minutes, on the edge of your seat, just waiting for me to tell you all about THAT TIME I RAN A MARATHON! Well, alas, my friends... the time has come!

There is so much to share, so I am going to do it little by little as to not overload and post a 8173757 paragraph entry, which I am famous for, seeing as how I never know when to shut up.

OK, so let's start with the obvious... I FINISHED! You bet your sweet ass I crossed that finish line, screaming my face off, practically doing cartwheels. So there, now that I ruined the surprise (oh, while I'm at it with ruining surprises: Santa doesn't exist, and Dumbledore dies), let's talk about just how I managed to cover 26.2 miles. By foot. Without cheating.

Last week, I was a mess. I mean it. I don't know how I didn't chase away every friend, coworker, family member, and grocery store attendant I encountered... I think I even freaked out the homeless people begging me for money. "Money?! MONEY?! I'm running a marathon in 2 days! Don't ask me for MONEY!" So, to those of you that were unfortunate enough to cross my path last week, my apologies, and thank you for still wanting to be my friend.

I spent the entire week being as sedentary as possible. I didn't do any sort of physical activity that might further impede my (already minimal) chances of running the marathon. I did everything short of wrap myself in bubble wrap and wear a surgical mask. I wore my running shoes every day to keep my ankles happy. I wore KT tape 24/7. I iced, rolled, stretched, and rested the F*CK outta myself.

My neck slowly recovered after 3 adjustments at the chiropractor. Ok, go ahead, insert your comment about how the chiropractor is a quack and blah blah blah WHATEVER. After 2 sessions, I could finally look to the left without pain, and was no longer a spitting image of Zoolander as an ambi-turner. So say what you will, but the man fixed me, and I am forever grateful.

Somehow I made it to race day without a complete mental breakdown. I woke up (after a lovely 3 hours of nervous sleep) on Saturday morning, put on Journey as loud as it would go, and chugged a gallon of water. I somehow made it to the start line (wearing a pair of maroon Goodwill velour pants to keep warm), managed to make it to the port-a-potty and squirt out 3 nervous-pre-race-peeing sessions, and then found my way to my corral. I think the start gun actually went off while I was peeing, but I was so far back in the caboose, I had a good 20 minutes before I started running.

Hey, feet! You ready for this hell? No? Oh, well, too bad, cuz here we go...

Ok. Now. Let's run.

I saw my cheering posse at mile 1.5, and that was a great way to start the race. I was genuinely still happy at that point, all smiles and hugs and "Isn't this awesome!?! Look at me go! Yay marathons!" So that was cool.

One of the trainers from Cant Stop Endurance gave a great tip at one of the pre-race meetings about not pulling out the emotion and reasons and motivation for the race too early. Instead, "put it all in an envelope, tuck it away, and pull it out when you are at the point where you don't think you can take one more step." So I did that. I let my mind think about silly things like the guy with the really hairy back in front of me, or why there is ALWAYS a banana running the race, or how they managed to make Beale St NOT smell like beer and prostitutes that morning... ya know, just random things that come to mind.

Then we ran through the St. Jude campus around mile 4. (Honestly, I think it was dumb for them to put such an emotional and inspirational thing at mile 4. Nobody is needing that type of motivation that early in the race. Save that for mile 19 when I want to rip my legs off and throw them into the oncoming traffic. But, fine, whatever, throw this emotional bomb at me at mile 4.) Hundreds of people lined the streets, all thanking us for our contributions. I turned off my shameless running music, and soaked in the experience. I was overcome with emotion, and the flood gates broke lose when I saw a little girl holding a poster: All it takes is all you've got. That's when I lost it. Sobbing. So proud that I could give these children hope. So touched by the strength these families have shown. Completely overwhelmed by the entire experience. There were posters in the hospital walls that simply said "thank you." It doesn't get any more genuine than that. Oh, yea, it's really hard to run when you're sobbing.

Ok, so, after that, I only had another 21 miles to go. No big deal, right?

My ankles? Holy sweet Jesus- they felt FINE! I was waiting for the pain to hit. Waiting for them to perk up and say, "What, you thought you could get through this without us acting up?! SUCKER!" Stupid attention-seeking bitches. Yea, I just called my ankles bitches.

I was doing a good job of keeping around an 11:30/12:00 pace. I had my watch on and spent a lot of time making sure I wasn't going too fast. I knew I was going to see my cheer squad again around mile 6 or 7, and I was so happy when I saw Maureen with her signs, Kevin with his bright blue Chelsea jersey, and Jeremy's 28 foot tall head towering over the crowd. I practically skipped over to the side of the road to say hello. Again, smiles were genuine and I was feeling great. Around mile 7.5 I saw Eszter, my wonderful paparazzi. I saw a few more people I knew as we went through Overton Park. Then Eszter again around mile 10, then cheer squad around mile 10.5... how awesome is that?! These people either really like me, or they were scared of the wrath of Amy if they DIDN'T cheer. Either way, whatever, I'll take what I can get. I think the excitement got to me a bit, because I picked up my pace. Not by much, but enough to ultimately kick me in the ass around mile 12...

And that's all you get for now. WHAT A TEASE!