The aches and pains are starting to fade, so before the memories do too, I want to reflect back on my first marathon. Wow... that's still a little weird to say. Did I really run a marathon? To think that less than 4 years ago I never thought I'd even run a 5k. And 3 years ago I wasn't so sure I could finish a half. But over the past couple of years I've seen myself grow in speed and endurance from finishing my first half marathon just under 2 hours 10 minutes to finishing Sunday's marathon in 3:52:53 (meaning back-to-back sub-2 hour half marathons!). I'm still not 100% convinced it actually happened.

So here's the story as best I can remember it...

The original plan had been that our whole family would stay at a hotel Saturday night, but when Mom and Dad decided to camp, we ended up camping with them on Friday night and they offered to keep the kids with them on Saturday night too. That turned out to be a really great thing because the kids had been driving me crazy and it was only adding to my stress and anxiety. I was noticing signs that I had probably caught the cold Isaac had earlier in the week and was trying not to panic about it. I took a deep breath in the quiet and we proceeded to get ready for the morning. I prepped my breakfast items and did some foam rolling while Brent sat down with the course map and a satellite view of the area and made plans for where he could meet me along the course.
Everything was set. My ducks were all in a row and I had done every last bit of training I could have done. But emotions still hit me and I found myself struggling to hold back tears as I told Brent, "I don't want to do hard things anymore..." It was probably exhaustion speaking to some extent since I hadn't slept well the night before, but I was definitely feeling pretty nervous. Ultimately I decided I mostly just needed to go to sleep! It wasn't as hard to fall asleep as I thought it might be. I wasn't exactly asleep early, but I managed to settle in, pretend I was at home in my bed and my normal routine, and fell asleep without too much trouble.

My alarm was set for 5:30 on Sunday, but I woke up before it went off anyway. Race start was at 8, so ideally I wanted to eat around 6 and be parked at the race by 7. We managed to get the VERY LAST parking spot in the lot closest to the start chute. Winners! There was a long row of porta-potties just behind us, so I loved being able to hang out in our warm van, take my time gearing up, and use the bathroom easily. We stayed in the van until a bit after 7:30 at which point I hit the bathroom one last time and found a place near some of the charity tents to do my warmup stretches. It wasn't a huge race - just under 1100 marathon runners (1600 half marathoners and maybe 400ish relay runners made for a crowd of around 3000 runners), but there were enough people around that I didn't want to wander all over the place trying to find the one person from Toledo that I knew was there. I had prepared to run this race alone and I was okay with that. I had a pace bracelet with the splits I hoped to run and a playlist in my ears of songs I had specifically chosen for this marathon. I was "ready" so I found myself a spot somewhere between the 3:44 pace group and the 3:56 group. Brent and I hung out on the side of the road until the anthem, then I stripped off my extra pants & sweatshirt, handed them to Brent, and gave him a kiss. It was go time!



The announcer counted down and shouted "Go!" as the clock hit 8:00. 51 seconds later I crossed the mat and began my first ever 26.2 mile run. I didn't feel too especially nervous or even excited at the start of the race. Maybe a moment or two when I had to take a deep breath as I thought, "This is actually happening!" And it was. At 8:01am on Sunday, October 21, 2018, I was running my very first full marathon.

My goals for the race were a bit loose and I almost wish I had been a bit more committed to one specific goal. Our "marathon pace" in training was 8:50 min/mi which equated to a finish time of 3:51:36. So sometimes I would say my goal was 3:51, I wrote it "officially" on my race log as 3:52, but the closer we got to race day I found myself saying 3:50 a lot. I think I got there for two reasons: 1) the 8:50 pace had been determined by our fitness level prior to training. So logically after 17 weeks of hard work I felt I could POSSIBLY manage to go faster. But being my first marathon I was hesitant to put a hard number to that goal. And 2) I knew that if Dayna finished in 3:50 she would qualify for Boston and I was partially hoping I could show her that our training was enough to get her there. So on my training spreadsheet I laid out two race plans: one with a 3:51 finish and one with a 3:50 finish. The 3:50 one is what I ultimately put on my pace bracelet. I still wanted to see if I could make that happen. It put me at an 8:56 pace for the first few miles before settling into an 8:51 "race pace" until that halfway mark. At that point I was hoping to increase to 8:46 until the final 5k, then kick it up to 8:25 or faster to finish.

Back to the race: Off we went down Winter Ave. As we made the first turn onto Fulton, the 26 mile flag was at the corner since we would run back the opposite direction to finish the race. "Well that was easy!" I remarked out loud, eliciting a chuckle from a guy near me who then struck up a conversation. We had a similar finish goal for the race, so we figured we could stick together for a little bit. Both of us enjoy running communities in our hometowns but neither of us had anyone we were running this race with. We dialoged a bit about this being my first marathon and about him having run some others before including Detroit. Both of us kept frequently reminding the other that they were free to do their own thing. We didn't have to stick together if we didn't want to. But then we'd both agree that we enjoyed the company and that we were happy with the pace we were keeping. So, why not partner up? Once it seemed like we might stay together for a bit, we introduced ourselves and thus Jeff from Detroit became a new running friend. I told him about Brent and the bright orange pool noodle he would be holding up so I could see him. Jeff helped me spot Brent at the 4 mile mark so I could hand off my jacket and I quickly introduced him to Brent as I ran by. This resulted in a collection of hilarious posts on Facebook as Brent posted videos with "#Jeff" each time he saw me.



So at this point I'm checking my pace bracelet at each mile flag and we are staying about 30 seconds ahead of where I was aiming to be. I was a little mad at myself about that because I really wanted to avoid going out too fast, but I figured 30 seconds wasn't too horrible. I remember a moment probably around mile 5 where I reminded myself to take in the scenery... just as we were passing a water treatment plant or something of that nature. It made me chuckle because that part of the race wasn't exactly scenic. Miles 6 and 7 were on a more remote path through some fields. We would come back along this same path at the finish and the half marathoners also returned on that path, so we saw some of the faster half marathon runners and some of the charity team runners that had started early as they were headed back.

At mile 6 I remember thinking to myself, "20 miles to go." It was very matter-of-fact in my head and I couldn't decide if I should be terrified by that or not. My longest run ever prior to this was 18 miles... so the thought of "20 miles left" seemed extremely foreign. I'd never even had "20 miles period." It was an odd little moment in my race that I took in, then moved past.

I couldn't quite remember when Brent had planned to see me next. I had thought it was maybe around mile 7 or 8 but we didn't see him then. I was worried for a minute thinking he might have gotten trapped in the parking lot and then I wouldn't see him again at all, which made me sad, but I quickly shook that off knowing that I had to focus on my run and not let that get to me. If he couldn't be there to see me, I would just have to deal with it.

The half marathon course split off from us just before mile 9. I wasn't too tired yet, but still had a slight moment of longing to turn with them. Instead, Jeff and I wished the half marathoners well as they turned and then commented to one another about the thinning crowd. It reminded me of running the Black Swamp 25k and groaning slightly as the 15k crowd turned back towards the finish line while I kept going in the opposite direction. But as I said, I was feeling pretty good still at mile 9, so it didn't sting too badly to see them peel away. Jeff and I were having good conversation at that point and were also still on the lookout for Brent and the orange noodle.



Mile 9.5 we turned on to Maynard Rd and I saw a long red building, which reminded me: THAT was where Brent said to look for him! But we still didn't see him. We headed south on that road then turned back north on a bike path. Passed the mile 10 flag and still didn't see him. Oh no! But finally around 10.5 miles in we spotted the orange noodle in the distance! Was nice to see that he had made it out and I knew he planned to see me again in another couple of miles. The next few miles were probably the most scenic as we ran a path around Millennium Park Lake. The worst hill of the course was at mile 11.5 (and it really wasn't that bad of a hill), but at the top we had a lovely view of the whole park and the lakes. Would have been nicer if the leaves were a bit more colorful, but there were specks of reds/yellows to be seen. Also along that part of the course (actually before the hill I believe) we saw 4 HUGE swans swimming in the lake, a fisherman standing out in the water, and ran through a beautiful tree tunnel. I had several moments where I wished I could capture the moment with a picture, but I wasn't going to mess with my phone in the middle of a race.




Saw Brent again at 12.5 miles, enjoyed hitting the half marathon mark, and then spent the next 2 miles going, "Is this the start of the out and back?" Should have studied the map a little more before the race. Ha! At the halfway point I had intended to pick the pace up, but we had been ahead of pace anyway and I had inadvertently banked about 40 seconds, so I told Jeff I was probably going to just stick with roughly what we had been doing. Didn't want to burn out later in the race so I was okay to not push it yet.

It wasn't until mile 15 that we actually got to the out and back. 6.5 miles of road where we enjoyed seeing runners going both directions. Generally I love this part of races and I had been looking forward to this, but I was definitely starting to feel tired and less peppy by this point. We tossed the occasional "great job" and "keep it up" at the runners on the other side of the road though. As we approached mile 17 Jeff commented about being excited to be with me as I passed 18 and reached a new distance milestone. I was looking forward to getting there too, especially because I was hoping to see Brent again soon after. I knew this meeting point would be a tricky one. The road we were running on was shut down and we had a river on one side of us and a highway on the other. He had no good way of getting to me. Just before the turnaround there was a bridge where spectators had been instructed they could watch racers go by underneath, but Brent was hoping to climb down through the wooded embankment to get to the road we were on. He said if he fell and broke his leg, just look for the orange noodle waving in the woods.

Just past mile 18 Brent was there with that lovely noodle. I knew he had more Honeystingers and Tailwind for me if I wanted them, and I debated finishing off one of my bottles and trading with him, but decided I didn't want to lose momentum in an exchange and figured I'd be alright. I'd been sipping water at the aid stations and still had enough Tailwind to get me at least close enough to the finish. So after we circled around and passed by him one last time, I shook my head "no" as he held out the fuel and he called out, "See you at the finish, Baby!" I didn't THINK I was struggling too bad at that point, but Brent later said he noticed a big difference between mile 18 and 19. I think maybe crossing into unknown territory scared me a little. I'd done 18 before. Twice. But the next 8 miles would be new. I had no idea how my body would handle an extra 8 miles... an extra hour... beyond what I had ever done before. I had never ever gone this distance before, let alone at such a quick pace.

Mile 19 was among the worst. I'm not sure why exactly, but I knew there was a timing mat at mile 20 and it seemed to take FOR-EV-ER to get to it. Shortly after the 19 mile flag I told Jeff that my hamstrings were starting to hurt. "No they aren't," he promptly responded. Haha... right... definitely not hurting. I appreciated his attempt!



At last I crossed the 20 mile mark. Time for the final 10k.

Side note: As I think back on the race, I don't recall being passed by other runners very often if ever. I mean, I probably was passed by a bunch of them in the first few miles, but I don't really count that because everyone always goes out too fast at the start. So anyway, it was fun cruising along at my planned pace and passing by lots of people. In the end, I passed over 100 marathon runners. At the 7 mile split I was in 444th place. I finished in 346th place. I figure I probably passed a few before the 7 mile mark, so I'm sticking with my "over 100" number. And I passed nearly 50 of them between mile 20 and the finish line. That last 10k is not for the faint of heart.

I made a promise to myself before the race began that if I ever wanted to walk I would speed up instead. That's a little trick we learned in training. For several of our longest runs we would do "surges" for 90 seconds in the late miles of the run. I always groaned at the thought of speeding up when I was already exhausted, but it actually helped. It broke up the monotony of the steady pace and also helped those tiring late miles to pass a bit more quickly. So as I was starting to feel the pain and fatigue, I decided I was going to give surges a try. A little bit past the 20 mile flag I told Jeff that I was going to speed up, but "only for 1 minute then I'm slowing back down." He wished me well as I picked up speed. I don't think I responded at all. I didn't mean to ignore him. I honestly figured he would catch back up to me when I slowed down because I figured I'd be worn out and drop my speed too low after the surge. But that was the last I saw of Jeff during the race. I was on my own for the next 6 miles.

The final 10k. I had been preparing for this the entire training season. Many seasoned marathoners, coaches, magazine articles, etc had spoken about the dreaded last 10k. I don't know how many times I heard or read that nothing can truly prepare you for it. And now I had arrived. It was my turn to experience it for myself. After my first speed surge I slowed back down, knowing that I had probably slowed down too much. I wondered for a moment if the surges were a good idea if they wore me out and made me slow down after, but I ultimately decided I wanted to continue with them anyway. I decided that each mile flag I passed I would do another 1 minute surge. It gave me something to look forward to (or frankly not look forward to but it at least made me not wallow in longing for the next mile to arrive). So at mile 21 I surged again, counting in my head, "1...2...3... ...29...30...29...28 ..." As I slowed back down I was back at the bridge to cross the river one last time - the end of the out and back. It felt like I had arrived at the final piece of the race. Nothing left to do now but run back to where I started.



Just after I crossed the bridge I could see Cheryl (the other Toledo runner) up in front of me. We exchanged a few words and I kept plodding along past her. Seeing a familiar face kept me occupied for that mile and before I knew it I was at the 22 mile flag and pushing myself through another surge. A lot of thoughts went through my mind during the last 10k and I'm not entirely sure at what point I experienced each of them. I had noticed earlier in the race that I'd hear a "Woohoo!" cheer on Racejoy shortly after I hit each mile. I assumed it was a friend or family member tracking me and sending it to me (I later decided it was probably just an automatic thing) but it was very encouraging to me. I'd pass each flag and wait expectantly for that "Woohoo!" and I'd smile believing there was someone out there cheering me along the way (and there were actually - even though they weren't sending the audible cheers. I was SO touched to see all of the Facebook posts that were made by my friends who were tracking me along the way. If I couldn't have them there in person, knowing they were "there" watching me as I ran was the next best thing). Brent and my friend Jacqueline also sent me a few Racejoy cheers along the way, especially in that last 10k, and they always put a smile on my face. Also in the last 10k I know there was a point where I told myself I was going to pretend that Dayna was there running with me and we were out doing a 6 mile steady tempo run that we completed at least a half dozen times during training. It was never easy, but I always knew that it was "just 6 miles" and I could survive it. I also reminded myself of the words my brother Michael had said to me when we were texting the night before. He said that he usually hits the wall around mile 22 or 23, but to just keep pushing. Don't stop moving. As much as my legs wanted to take a break and walk, I refused to let myself do that. I knew I would regret it. One foot in front of the other. Just get it done. I had other "tricks" I'd thought about using to get through the dreaded final 10k, but very few of them came to mind when I was actually there. First time marathon problems. But I was really proud of myself that I never panicked. I never had a total meltdown where I felt desperate or helpless. Those last 6 miles were not fun at all and I probably could have managed them a bit better, but considering I was in completely foreign territory I am proud to say I held my own.

I surged again at mile 23 and as I slowed back down there was a photographer up ahead. Perfect. Just when I'm gasping for air after a speed burst. Time to slap on a fake smile and pretend that I am loving life after 23 freakin miles on my feet. Woo-hoo. It was probably just as well though because smiling at a camera is a decent distraction from the pain and fatigue.



I don't remember any specific aches at this point. I think I'd desensitized to the hamstring pain and was just overall fatigued. I honestly don't remember. I know I wasn't wincing in pain with every step or having major problems with a specific area. I just know it felt like a chore to keep moving forward and especially to attempt to keep my pace up. I realized at some point, might have been after the race, that it suddenly makes perfect sense why distance/ultra runners use pacers along the way. It is HARD to "feel" your pace when you get that tired. I probably could have gone faster, but my body already felt like it was pushing hard so "by feel" I WAS going fast. Maybe for my next marathon I can bribe someone into jumping in with me for the final few miles to keep my pace up.

After passing the photographer we turned back onto the park path we had run on for miles 6 & 7. The thing I remember most about this stretch was passing by so many people who were walking. I gasped out encouragement to some of them. "Almost there." "Keep it up." "You've got this." It was kind of hard to see all of those people walking when I was trying with all my might to keep running. In fact, when I reached the mile 24 flag I refused to do another surge. "I'm moving and darn it that is just going to have to be good enough for now." We were also running uphill at that time, going up roughly 23 feet in that mile alone (almost 10% of the overall elevation gain for the race). It ended up being my slowest mile and the only one over 9 minutes at 9:13. I really wish I would have made myself surge! I think I regretted making that decision because as I turned off of the path and onto the road towards the 25 mile flag I was already gearing up for another speed burst. I told myself that this was it. The last one before the final push at mile 26. Get through this and I'll be in the home stretch.

I wasn't paying attention to much anymore. My hands had gone numb a few miles ago (which made wrestling fuel in & out of my belt quite interesting), my mouth was dry and I was thirsty, but I mostly was focusing on "Last mile. Last mile. Get it done." There were probably more spectators again on this part of the course and we were weaving along actual roads again, but all I could think about was seeing that 26 mile flag again and the finish line. Mile 25 to 26 is basically a blur to me.

At last I could see the finish line up ahead. I pushed with whatever strength I could muster, slapped on a smile (gotta look good for the finish line picture!), and raised my hands in victory as I crossed the line under a clock that read 3 hours and 53 minutes! Holy crap I did it! I finished a marathon! I finished it under 4 hours! And I was even DANG CLOSE to my primary finish time goal! Official chip time was 3:52:53. IN-SANE!!!



The race didn't go completely as expected, but I honestly didn't know what to expect anyway. There are a few things I would probably tweak if I wanted to improve my performance. I'd work harder to manage my pace better at the front end of the race (this was hard to do this time because I really didn't even know what finish time I should expect, but I should have stuck to my plan a bit better). Maybe I wouldn't talk as much. I probably used up too much oxygen by chatting and it distracted me from fueling as often as I had planned. But the mental boost of being able to talk to someone about God's work in my life was perhaps better than had I conserved oxygen and kept quiet. Conversations like that are energizing to me. And for my next full I hope to manage the final 10k better. Again, I'm really proud of how well I managed as a first-timer, but the uncertainty of "Can I actually do this?" still caused me to struggle some. Now that I KNOW I can do it, I hope to draw on that to push the limits further next time around. I'm also hoping that next time, since it will be a local marathon, I can rally up some supporters for the last 10k. It was AMAZING to see Brent so many times on the course, and to have my kids & parents at the finish line, but if I could have had anything I asked for I'd have put friends and family at every mile along the way. Familiar faces mean so much to me and nothing makes me feel more loved than having them cheer me on. Definitely missed the local excitement of seeing my running family out there. Also, next time I'm taking more liquids with me and/or having someone hand off a fresh bottle to me in the later miles (and making sure I take it!). Being thirsty made the last 5k even worse.

So yeah, there are a few things I might have changed if I could have, but overall I couldn't be much happier with how my first marathon turned out. It was a beautiful course, I made a new friend who helped me through over 75% of the race, I had a plan and (mostly) stuck to it, and I beasted my way through that last 10k as best as can be expected for an inexperienced marathon runner. This was something I never thought I would do, but I DID IT!