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!
