More than Martha's Marathon

So after a 1 ½ months of heartache and stress (seriously – new job, Daddy’s death, Adeline’s hospitalization, Grandma’s stroke – May seriously was not very swell)… and the lack of training that came with that month – my marathon approached… My whole family was coming to Sun River a day early to cheer me on, Mom had rented the house for an extra night to relieve some stress for me and give everyone a close place to stay. Those commitments from the greatest family in the world made me feel committed to showing up on Marathon Morning – even if I was terrified.

We got to Sun River later than we’d planned on Friday night – but in time to carb load and get to bed at a reasonable time. I’d packed all my marathon supplies at the top of my suitcase, so they were right there, which for the planner in me was critical. I was surprised at how easily I slept on Friday night – such a relief.

Saturday morning dawned early – about 2:00 am – which was approximately 4 hours early… Nerves – I have this issue of being afraid to miss my alarm. When 6 finally came, Ryan snuck down to make me my ‘power’ breakfast and I did the dressing thing – just a hint of makeup. Put on the appropriate, prechosen clothes – (did think about switching, since I’d just bought an Under Armour shirt that says RUN on the front and Don’t Be Last on the back, which is sorta my motto). Sunscreened up – if you’re looking for a great sunscreen, try Bullfrog’s Marathon Mist. All morning in the sun, and my fair skin didn’t even get pink!

Ryan took me to the designated spot and prayed for me. Then he hung out while I listed all the reasons I should go home. And convinced me just to do this thing. So when they started the ‘parade’ to the starting line, I went along for the ride. And started to relax and enjoy myself.

And then I started. And just ran. Settled into a comfortable 9:30 pace which I maintained for quite a while. The first 5-6 miles, I ran without my music, just listening to the runners around me. Gabbed with a gentleman who had lots of weight loss advice. Wasn’t sure what he was trying to communicate – decided to not find a hidden message. He was in his fifties and running his 150th marathon. That’s right, 150. And he quickly pulled past me. Then I ran with a man from Calgary who was running his 167th marathon. I ran with him for 2-3 miles before I decided I didn’t want to run with him the whole way – so I upped my pace, just a bit, and moved ahead. I seriously felt amazing, comfortable, relaxed. The elevation didn’t bother me at all. Had to remind myself to take my walk breaks every 6 minutes – had to remember to run the way I’d trained.

About mile 6 I decided that I couldn’t win the race (I know, this shouldn’t have been a surprise). But if I couldn’t win the race, I could win the sportsmanship medal. This is a reward that I made up about mile 6. But seriously, sportsmanship is critical. So I made sure to thank every volunteer – EVERY volunteer, with a smile. And they seemed to appreciate it. But I noticed at mile 8 that I had some competition. The girl just behind me was also thanking the volunteers. I could not lose this award! So I upped my nice and congratulated every runner who past me and thought of something witty to say to every other volunteer (my wittiness is not capable of EVERY volunteer). Got a lot of laughs, which seemed to spur me on to greater sportsmanship, if not greater running. After the race, my sister even made me a medal.


Meantime, my family is looking for me. Sun River is a pretty town, but a bit convoluted with walking trails and roundabouts. And I’m a bit directionally, spatially challenged. (Thus the lack of a spatial-awareness award in my award giving). So at one point I directed Ryan to a lake, which was really more of a puddle. Good thing my husband is more adept at reading maps and race courses, because the family was able to cheer me on several different places between mile 8 and 20 – and then again at the finish line. Something amazing at having your name called by a personal fan club. Especially if the fan club carries your Glide, which I had to apply to my armpits of all places. Favorite quote was from my nephew Robby – who when I stopped to reGlide told me, “Whitney, you have got to go!”

The race course was a loop, and there was a half-marathon and full going on at the same time. About mile 8 I started to get past by half-marathoners. Some of them were crazy fast. And others were wearing a shirt that said something to the effect that half-marathoners were only half crazy. I ran with lots of them to the halfway point – where they went to the finish line. I wanted to follow them, badly – but the emcee reminded me that I had to go the full – and he reminded me in a very public, loudspeaker voice – even when I pointed desperately at the finish line. Got some good laughs there too. And so, I started the last half pretty much alone. And ran that way for a lot of miles. Still felt pretty celebratory, as my half-marathon time was a personal PR – and set me on pace for my goal time in the full.

I really did feel good – for lots and lots of miles. But the marathon was even more miles. About mile 20, I started to really feel heavy. No other way to describe it, my lungs were fine, my energy was even decent. But my legs were heavy. And hard to move. So I relaxed and decided just to enjoy the rest- to let go of the time goal and just move forward (which is what I said outloud, but didn’t really mean, do we ever let go of goals?). But I did move. Slowly – but in the right direction, and without much pain. And with this sort of elation – that I was really doing this thing. On an amazingly beautiful course.

And then, finally, I could hear the finish line. Couldn’t see it, a few curves through a golf course – but I could hear it. And there is nothing more beautiful than a finish line. Except a finish line that holds your mother, sister, brother, in-laws, nieces, nephews, children, and a husband who has supported your training in so many ways. And so I ran, as hard as I could. Felt like a sprint. Probably looked like a crawl. And as I crossed that line, (in 5:16:53 – 16:54 longer than I’d wanted) I cried. I was so proud. SO proud. I just ran a marathon. And at the same time, I was so disappointed. I’d run it so much slower than I’d wanted (but really after nearly a month of nearly no-training, what should I have expected?). And SO sad. My daddy was missing from the finish line. The man who had created this love of running wasn’t there to see it. So as they handed me my finisher’s medal (which I plan on wearing often and with just about every outfit I own), I cried. And thought about Dad and disappointment and pain and joy and how all of these things were so linked. And then there was Dexter and Ryan coming to find me – and then the rest. And the joy overrode the sorrow. And then I had to sit down. Because even more than the joy – I was really, really tired.

So – I had promised myself one marathon – that I would just run one to see. And I saw. And I loved it. And I still have that time goal – and once I get that, there will be another time goal – because that’s how I work. And every run will have this mix of pain, sorrow, joy, elation – because Dad will never be there to see –but I will take him on every run. And there will be many, many more.