Dig back down in your memory. I ran a marathon.
I left off at mile 20 as I prayed for death. Salty face Amy, somehow managing to still be in motion. I kid you not when I say the last 6 miles were both a complete dream-like blur, and the most vivid and memorable steps of my life.
Eszter ran with me for a few minutes around mile 21. The distraction was nice, but I literally couldn't focus on making sentences at that point. So, Eszter, sorry if my conversation consisted of me saying things like, "Chicken crossing popsicle with the umbrella goes bulldozer, right?!" I had to conserve my energy, and cognitive abilities were the first to go.
Kevin sent me a text around mile 22: "Everyday I'm shuffling." Thanks, Kev. Real funny. But seriously, my feet weren't even really leaving the ground at that point. I looked like a broken old man. I am sure I gained the pity of the few remaining spectators that sat along the road, bored and complete out of pep.
There was this older man, probably in his late 50's, that I kept playing leapfrog with. He had on elvis sunglasses and was about 8 foot 9 inches tall. We were next to each other at one point, me taking 8 steps with my little midget legs for ever 1 of his gargantuan giant leg steps, and an ice cream truck slooooowlllyyyy droooovveeee byyyyy. Mocking us. Pointing and laughing. Salt in our already salty wounds. We just looked at one another, scowled, and started yelling profanities at the truck driver.
Mile 23 may have been the first time I actually SERIOUSLY thought about quitting. YEA, I KNOW, "ONLY A 5K LEFT!" Shut up about your effing 5k. After the epic battle I had been fighting in for the past 5 hours, every single step was nothing less than a sheer miracle. I thought to myself, "Now is the time. Now. Shower myself with the emotions. Remind myself of WHY I am doing this. Pull out that envelope I tucked away, open it up, and bask in the emotion. Let it carry me to the finish line!" I tried. I really did. I wanted so badly to remind myself of WHY I was doing this and to let emotion carry me. But honestly, I couldn't. I just couldn't. The ONLY thing that was in my mind was, over and over and over and over again, "One. More. Step." I was so exhausted at this point, even emotion was too much. In retrospect, that upsets me. I wanted to be able to feel that pride and that emotion and let it be my wings those last few miles.
Instead, Yamaha came on my iPod.
This is the most ridiculous song in the entire world. Hands down. But, thanks to my lovely boyfriend, it ended up on my "I'm running a marathon" playlist. A few weeks before the race, I was stealing some of his music to add to my playlist. I jokingly asked if I should add this ridiculous song, to which he replied, "If you wanna kick ass, you will." Done. And would you believe, he was right? The second I heard that synthesizer, I couldn't help but smile. OK maybe it wasn't the emotional shower I was hoping for, but it was surely the boost I needed to remind myself that I would make it and wouldn't end up as roadkill.
I could tell everyone around me was really feeling it at this point. Around mile 25, the comradery really started to show. We were all in it together at that point. One woman started walking next to me. I looked her square in the eyes and screamed, "WE HAVE ON THE SAME SHOES! OUR SHOES MATCH! NOW RUN! YOU CAN DO THIS! RUN!" She laughed, started running, and yelled back,"BROOKS GHOST 4 POWER! RUN!" Strangers instantly become bonded.
Mile 26 is evil because it is straight up an exit ramp. I want to stab whoever threw that kicker in. I am not joking.
I will admit that the last .2 miles were a complete blur. I know I managed to pick up my pace and actually lift my feet off the ground. I know I screamed a lot. I know the sense of pride that was beginning to shake my entire body and soul was uncanny. I remember seeing Paige and Ashley. I remember my body being so completely numb I could have been shot with a muzzle-loader and not have felt it. I remember seeing Maureen and Kevin, and the first wave of tears coming. I remember hugging a few strangers. But most of all...
I remember seeing the finish line, crossing the finish line, and knowing that I did it.
Thank you, Ashley, for capturing this miracle!
The moments immediately following the race are also kinda blurry- lots of pictures, laughing, praise, high-fives, texting, etc. I somehow got some food (and beer, of course) in my system, somehow got home, and somehow got into an ice bath. It was then, there, about an hour after the race, sitting in a tub of sub-arctic temperature water, that the emotions hit. I started sobbing like a child. Despite all the bullsh*t I faced along the way, I did it. I didn't hold back, I let the wave of emotion I was earlier craving wash over me, and I basked in its warmth (which was very welcome considering I WAS IN AN ICE BATH!).
A fellow runner sent this in an email. It couldn't be more true:
Because we can.
Because we have something to prove.
Because we don't want regrets.
Because we are able.
Because we want to kill the doubt.
Because we have a goal.
Because of the voice within.
Because we can handle more than we think.
Because it's never too late.
Because we want to run farther.
Because we want to run faster.
Because we won't give up.
Because it's better to give than to receive.
Because we have strength to endure.
Because we believe in miracles.
Because we have faith.
Because I'M A RUNNER.
My final breakdown is quite pathetic, but whatever. I was upset for a little while that it took me that long, but all things considered, I shouldn't have even run the damn race, so I gotta let it go.
Aaaaand cue mushy, deep, emotional reflection time:
Looking back, the whole experience seems completely surreal.
Sometimes it seems so insignificant, like it was no big deal.
But sometimes, I close my eyes and remember the feelings I felt as I crossed the finish line, and I can't help but smile.
1 year ago, I was in such a different place in my life. I have accomplished so much, both physically and mentally, through this challenge. I am a different person.
It was worth every tear, ache, pain, early morning, painful step, and hours spent exploring the streets of Memphis by foot.
To those who shared this experience with me, and those of you that donated to St Jude and helped me become a true HERO: there are no words. I thank each of you from the bottom of my heart. Each of you were there with me the entire way.
This experience changed me, and I am forever grateful.
I wore the shirt I got from the race today. We went out to breakfast. I was in the bathroom, and the woman next to me at the sink says, "Did you really run a marathon?!" She proceeds to go on and on about how amazing that is, what an accomplishment it is, and how proud of me she is- she even gave me a hug. Thank you, random stranger, for reminding me of how monumental those 5.5 hours of running and 12 months of training really were.
Ok ok ok ok FINE, enough of that emotional junk. It slips out from time to time, I am SORRY. Jeez. Tough crowd.
THE END.
