The Woodlands Marathon 2012

We did it!  March 3rd we woke up to 50 degree, low humidity weather and spent the morning running our road races.  It was definitely a family event, which made it that much more memorable.

The whole clan just before the half and full marathoners split into their corrals to start the race.

My lovely parents about to start their first road race.  My dad ran the full marathon and 

my mom ran the half-marathon.

 The two couples.

Thanks to the long and slow moving line at the port-a-potties, my dad and I barely made it into our corral before the gun shot off to begin the race.  We crossed the start line and my dad said in a surprised voice, "Whoa...we're really starting this aren't we? Are we really about to run this??"  I just laughed and told him there was no going back now...

The course was different than most; it was a 13.1 mile loop.  This meant that those running the half-marathon ran the loop once...but those running the full marathon ran the loop twice.  

Completing our 18-week training programs separately and in different states, only to come together on race day and run 26.2 miles side-by-side, was not ideal; but my dad and I had no choice.  He would tell me throughout our training how slow he was and how he "just wanted to finish" the marathon and didn't care about completing the race within a certain amount of time.  I didn't mind and was in full support of his request.  The only detail I cared about was running the entire race with my dad, no matter the pace.  If he wanted to push himself and give it all he had, leaving him wasted by the end of the race, be my guest and count me in.  If he wanted to take it easy and finish the race stress-free, crossing the finish line at 5:00 hrs, I'm happy either way.  My dad jokes that he flew me to Texas to run the marathon with him only because I'm a paramedic and would know how to save his life when he collapsed during the race.  

Come race day, the truth came out!  I knew all along that he could run faster than he thought.  I knew he would become the tiniest bit competitive once he soaked up the race's atmosphere.  As we were running the first few miles of the race together, I would call out our pace to him {using my gps watch} and he didn't believe me.  He expected himself to be keeping a 10:30/mile pace, but we had maintained a 9:30/mile pace in the first several miles, and we both felt awesome.  The excitement and adrenaline of the race was  contagious.  As the course winded through the neighborhoods and streets of this community I grew up in, we spent time reminiscing, discussing changes in our lives, noticing the changes  to the community in the last few years, et cetera.  We were running at a good and comfortable pace, keeping constant conversation.  We made sure to grab cups of water and gatorade at the water stations posted every mile and a half to keep hydrated, in addition to eating our Gu gels.

At about mile 9 and even more so at mile 10, half-marathoners were racing past us left and right.  It gave off an exciting vibe to be running the same course as them.  Several people we knew were passing us as they neared their finish line of 13.1 miles.  Zuriel passed us at about mile 10 and it was so exciting to see him!  He was running hard and finished the race strong.  As we came up on the mile 13 post, it was interesting to pass the turn off for the finish line and continue running the same loop again.  We grabbed orange slices just before mile post 14 and they tasted a-mazing.  

Running the loop the second time around was a reminder of how few people were running the full marathon in comparison to the half.  The crowd of runners had definitely thinned out by now.  I knew this was it...the mental battle would begin during this second and final loop.  The weather was still beautiful, our pace was still comfortable, our legs weren't tired or cramping, and we were feeling good.

And then came mile 18.  My dad was feeling great, and so was I, but I was suddenly getting a hint of nausea.  It was subtle, but I knew it was there.  I continued running happily, but nervously, waving to the sporadic groups of people cheering. I decided to cheer along with them because I couldn't resist their enthusiasm and encouragement.

Mile post 20 came and the nausea unmistakably intensified.  I had to say something at this point.  I asked my dad how he felt and he said he was a little tired but he was doing fine.  Then he asked how I was doing.  I admitted that I felt pretty nauseous and was hoping it would go away but that it was unfortunately getting worse.  

Just after passing the 20-mile marker, a couple friends ran into us and began to chat.  They told us their finish time goal and my dad told them we were also probably going to be finishing around the same time.  A second later I felt that dreaded feeling in my stomach and grabbed my dad's arm while telling him I had to stop.  I took two steps into the grass and threw up more fluid than I knew I had in me.  It wasn't a weak-sauce 'spit up' but a legitimate projectile vomit of water+gatorade+Gu gels.  I shook my head, looked at my dad and he was half turned away from me {I don't blame him}.  I then took two steps, and threw up again.  I thought, "Seriously?!"  And two steps later, I threw up again.  I stood up and looked at my dad again.  This time he asked if I was okay.  I said yes, and started running again.  

After taking that 60-second 'break', I {naturally} felt significantly better.  There was a water station a mile away and as we jogged past it, I grabbed three of those half-filled dixie cups of water.  I drank one right away and sipped on the other two for the next quarter mile.  By mile 24 I started to feel pretty shaky...you know, the weak and shaky feeling after throwing up?  Yeah, that one.  Just two more miles...just two more miles...just two more miles...

Just as we were diagonally crossing a 4-way intersection, I felt 'it' in my stomach again.  Perfect.  Right in the middle of the intersection, in front of the cop directing traffic, and in front of the lines of cars waiting for these crazy marathoners to cross the street.  I tightly closed my mouth and started making panicking sounds, which made my dad look at me with concern and confusion.  I sped up to get through the intersection, but I knew it was coming.  I turned to the grass, then wished I hadn't because a group of nearby kids were conveniently watching my every move.  I ran about 10 feet ahead of the kids, turned my back to them, and out came the projectile vomit once again.  This time I couldn't 'shake it off' and keep running.  My vision became a little hazy and I felt a little bit like the trees were spinning.  Then I took a couple steps and threw up one last time as an 'encore' to the exciting show.

I could hear my dad at this point.  He was telling me to keep running with him, that the finish line was right around the corner.  I didn't believe him.  I hadn't seen the 25-mile marker yet.  Sure enough, after a few seconds of running we saw the 26-mile post.  Hallelujah!  I told my dad I couldn't believe it was the end, that we were really about to finish this race together!  We both ran the last 0.2 miles of the 26.2 mile race at a dead sprint and crossed the finish line at the same time with tears in our eyes.  They were tears of joy, accomplishment, and a bit of exhaustion all mixed together.  

Tired and in awe that he finished his first marathon...way to go!

Once we finished and took a couple pictures, I grabbed onto Zuriel and told him I needed food right away.  He held me and walked me over to pick up my 'finishers t-shirt', then walked me over to where they were handing out food.  I walked through the line, was handed a bowl and an orange and I just sat down on the grass.  I felt so weak.  After a couple minutes of sitting and eating an orange slice, I got up to finish getting the rest of my food.  I walked out from the food line and told Zuriel I needed to lay down in some shade.  Everyone was sitting at tables and it made me feel sick to my stomach when I thought of sitting in a chair.  I was laying halfway under a table, crying, when a medical person came over and asked if I was okay.  Zuriel said, "Well, she might need someone to help her..."  He didn't need to say anything else.  Within two minutes a paramedic was by my side, asking me what happened.  Another minute later I was taken by a golf cart to the 'medical tent'.  Being a paramedic, I was embarrassed to be a patient, but of course, I was as compliant as I could be.

Once in the tent and laying on a bed, two nurses and a doctor were by my side asking questions and doing their assessment.  I thought they might want to give me an IV and I was hesitant to allow them, until I heard how low my blood pressure was.  I knew that if I were the paramedic and had a patient with my same symptoms and vital signs, I would make sure my patient got an IV.    So there I was, getting a couple bags of fluid, trying to recover and make the nausea and dehydration {from all of that vomiting} go away.  My concerned mother decided to capture the moment by taking a picture.  I wasn't going to include it, but it's a memory--embarrassing or not.

I didn't realize until after I had been 'recovering' in the medical tent for a while, how confused I had felt and how hazy my vision was prior to receiving any treatment.  Zuriel says that now I know how my patients might feel...  

Besides being able to see and think more clearly, I knew I was feeling better when I had an appetite again.  I told the nurse I felt hungry and she said "Well that's a good sign! You just ran a marathon!"  Then I admitted that one of the many reasons I run is because I feel that I have more liberty when I eat than I would otherwise.  She said she felt the same way and told me that she responds to friends who ask her why she runs with, "I run because I like cheeseburgers!"  Fair enough.

I'm not sure what caused my nausea and vomiting this time around.  If anything, I felt more ready and prepared for this race compared to my last marathon {including what I ate, drank, and how much I slept the week of the race}.  

Despite it all, I have no regrets and I had an incredible and unforgettable time running my 2nd marathon with my dad.  Ironically, It wasn't my dad who needed the medical attention afterall...

*my blog post about my first marathon can be found here

Mesa Falls Marathon

August 27, 2011.  26.2 miles.  What a day!  I was hoping to post the same day or at least the day after so everything could be extra fresh in my mind, but, here we are...3 weeks later.  Get ready for details, because well, I love details and I don't want to forget them!

The 'race' actually starts the night before, did you know?  Well, I didn't realize that until the night before. Lovely!  It includes packing and planning and eating and drinking {water} and laying out your clothes and equipment for the big run, amongst other things.  Oh and anxiety attacks.  It's not mandatory, but apparently inevitable for miss stress-ball over here {that would be me}.  

At about 7:30pm {night before race day} I realized I had been so anxious about the next morning that I had hardly eaten anything that day, including dinner.  Ideally, I would have eaten dinner between 5:30 and 6pm, then had a snack before falling asleep comfortably and soundly by 9pm because HELLO my alarm is set for 4:30am the next morning and I want to sleep fabulously before I run the farthest I've ever run in my life.  Naturally.  Is that so much to ask?  But, instead, I panic.  I frantically look through my fridge and pantry and am at a loss of what I should/could make for dinner!  I call Zuriel, explain to him my realization of how late it is and that I hadn't eaten dinner yet and blah blah blah blah... Basically the evening went down hill from there.  He quickly came home, put me in the car, and drove me somewhere to eat.  By the time we get home it is about 8:30pm.  Long story short--I don't fall asleep until after midnight.  

Now we'll skip to more happy and exciting moments.  For example, the START LINE!  Standing at the start line was in one word, surreal.  Was I really about to run a MARATHON?  And I don't feel nervous but sincerely excited?!  I couldn't believe it.  Where did my anxiety go.

The advice I heard over and over from friends, family, and random 'marathoners' was don't start out too fast!  So from the start, I did what I could to not let the excitement and adrenaline take over and push me too fast so early in the race.  I was on my 'runner's high' from mile 1, which was very convenient!  I kept thinking I was running too slow because more people than I expected were passing me.  But when I checked my trusty watch, I was always right where I wanted to be.  

I ran sans music for the first 13 miles.  I was enjoying the beautiful scenery!  A handful of runners were even running with cameras, stopping every now and then to capture the perfect picture.  

The first ten miles were on dirt roads.  We were up in the mountains, surrounded by trees.  Yet, you knew farms weren't too far off every time you heard a cow "moo" or you just barely missed the pile of poop your shoe was about to land in.  The dirt roads turned into pavement for a few miles, until just past the point where the half-marathon started.  This is where I put my headphones in.  I can't remember how desperate I began to feel for the up-beat music, but, it seemed like as good a time as ever to use the ipod!  After a few miles running on pavement, we veered off the road to begin the trail-run portion of the race.  It was awesome!  The path was only as wide as the ATV that drove on it to create the path.  The narrow path between trees almost made you forget you were racing.  Until, of course, you bumped elbows with runners wearing bib numbers as you were passing them because of how narrow the path was.  

The end of the trail run brought you to the {dreaded} beginning of a 2-mile hill.  It was at this point {the bottom of the hill} that I saw my husband with our dog, along with my best friend and her dog, screaming and cheering me on.  It was just what I needed before I ran that hill.  Not to mention she was blasting Journey from her car for motivation...it was perfect!  I glanced up at that hill, and all I saw was runners walking {or jogging slow enough that someone could walk faster than they were running}.  Not entirely encouraging, but I'll have you know that not one person passed me going up that hill.  I ran that hill for two miles, and it felt good.  By the end of the hill, I was just past the 19-mile marker.  

The remainder of the race was mostly flat or downhill-ish, but there were a few unexpected smaller hills that I wasn't mentally prepared for {where was THAT hill on the course map?? whaaa? and another one??} you get the idea... 

Almost everyone I talked to who had run a marathon told me of this huge, massive, ugly, 50-foot thick, barbed wire "wall" that I would hit or almost literally 'run into' at the 18 or 20-mile mark.  I braced myself at both those mile markers and you know what happened?  Nothin'.  I thought man, I'm good!  Kidding.  But I was honestly a teeny tiny bit surprised.  However my surprise only lasted a few more miles because just after mile marker 22, things started to get rough.  

However, it wasn't the kind of rough I was expecting.  I thought maybe, every muscle in my body would feel like it was shredding into pieces.  Maybe my legs would feel like they weighed 300lbs...each.  Unfortunately, none of the above.  I had been feeling some minor nausea, uncomfortable epigastric pain {where people feel heartburn} since around mile marker 6, but it was bearable.  Soon after mile 22 the pain and nausea became very apparent.  The LAST thing I wanted to do was vomit.  It must have been a combination of the eating a burrito salad for dinner the night before, barely getting 4 hours of sleep, the nerves, and the extreme heat that graced its presence three hours into the race {who invited you?!}.  Who knows.  The point is, I was doing everything I could {while running that is} to not spew everywhere.  Gross.  I stopped 3 times for about 15 seconds when I literally thought I couldn't hold it down any longer.  I knew that if I did throw up, I wouldn't have the energy to finish.  Luckily after some major prayers and mental motivation, I refocused all of my attention on finishing the best I could. 

       

What surprised me about the race?  Honestly truly?  I didn't think I was going to want to stop as bad as I wanted to stop those last four miles.  But I didn't quit.  I kept running and I finished strong.  This is what I had trained for.  This is what the last 5 months have revolved around--my running schedule.  This is what my friend convinced me that I was capable of doing.  She convinced me that I didn't give myself enough credit.  That I COULD do it if I worked for it.  So I did.  That's why a marathon is so 'hard' and so 'scary' to people.  Not the physical part {believe it or not}. It is a mental battle. And that is why it is so rewarding.  Because you didn't think you could do it.  Because you didn't know it was possible.  But it is.  And you CAN do it.  

It was one of the hardest but most rewarding physical and mental things I have done.  I was fighting tears as I was running towards the finish line.  The feeling of accomplishment you're rewarded with as you cross the finish line is indescribable.  I'm so blessed to have had this experience and the support I had from friends and family.  I look forward to training for my next marathon!

Putting in the miles

I love to run.  Love.  This hasn't always been the case, but that's a different story for a different post.  This amateur love seed was planted when I "trained" for my very first race, a half-marathon, last fall.  That seed began to blossom as I trained {this time I actually did a training program} for and ran my second half-marathon with one of my best friends this past June.  The training program we were doing, however, wasn't for a half-marathon.  No, no the training program I was talked into doing {by said friend} was for, everyone hold your breath, a MARATHON.  Man that word is scary.  Don't remember how, why, or who, what, when, or where for that matter, that I agreed to train for a marathon.  I had plans to run a marathon in March 2012 with my dad, but never once did I think I would be running one in two and a half weeks.  

According to many fitness experts, a person only needs to train up to 10 miles to know they {their body} can and will finish a half-marathon.  A person training for a full marathon likewise only needs to train up to 18 or 20 miles to know they can and will finish a full marathon.  Last wednesday, I completed my longest run in my training program.  I ran 20 miles in 3:05:15, averaging a 9:15min/mile pace.  How did I feel when I finished?  Incredible.  I was thrilled, I couldn't believe it.  It was a great feeling of accomplishment and it gave me energy and hope for future accomplishments.  On a different note, I was also incredibly hungry and sweaty.  I couldn't wait to make my protein shake, stretch, and take a 25min shower!  Following a nice relaxing shower, I unfortunately had to take an ICE bath.  Ever heard of them?  They're wonderful and you should be jealous you haven't taken one.  Kidding.  Step 1) fill up a tub with the coldest water possible until it will cover your thighs when sitting in the tub.  Step 2) Once in the bath, dump bags of ice into the bath. Step 3) grit your teeth and just dump the ice in already! {you are allowed to scream while dumping the ice}  The ice bath is taken to help prevent injury.  And, believe you me, I have a testimony of ice baths {all thanks to my Aunt Lydia who made me do it}.  I'm convinced they help more than I may ever know, and I'm glad I won't have to find out how my legs would've felt otherwise.  I even decided to share the picture taken of me freezing my buns off in the ice bath {no worries, I have shorts on}.  I was just starting to dump the ice in...