Done being sick, just in time for my next race

...tomorrow.  The words hooray! and help! immediately come to mind.  I'm extremely excited to be in the race atmosphere again, but I'm also anxious/curious about running this particular course.  I won't be trying to PR {set a personal record}, so I'm not worried about my time...but I've never done a trail race before!  There are more rules {i.e. if you wear headphones, you can only have one ear in and if you drop trash outside aid stations, you're DQ'd} and runner etiquette {you have to run single-file for a lot of the race and have to say "on your left" when you pass} to remember, there are no bathrooms on the course {only at the start/finish lines}, it is easy to get 'lost' or off course if you're not paying attention to the markers, and you have to watch out for wildlife and environmental hazards {potholes, fallen trees, branches, cliffs--jk}.  All this focus and concentration on 8 millions things besides running could either work for me or against me.  Let's hope it's all team Natalie and I don't stress myself out.  I do that?  Also, the weather forecast says 'blazing hot'.  Yeah, it's supposed to get well into the 90s, what the what.    

The week started out rough and yesterday I felt the closest to normal I've felt since Sunday.  Saturday I noticed I felt more tired than I should've, especially for getting enough sleep most of the week.  Sunday I felt extremely tired the entire day and then Monday and Tuesday were spent throwing up {and the joke is, I never get sick, so I was pretty disappointed and totally blind-sided by it}.  

It was unexpected and I think I was most disappointed when I realized I wouldn't be running those days.  When I woke up Monday, I immediately put my running clothes on and noticed feeling pretty dizzy doing so.  Then I grabbed the dog to let her out, and while waiting for her to do her business, I had that 'oh my gosh I need a toilet to throw up in' feeling.  Worst feeling ever.  My plan was a 5-mile on Monday, 10-mile on Tuesday, 6-mile on Wednesday, 3-mile on Thursday, a 2-mile walk on Friday, and a 13.1 mile race on Saturday.  

But instead, this is how my Monday was spent:  fruit/vegetable juice, water, gatorade, and saltines while sitting on the couch, unless I was taking a trip to the bathroom to vomit.  Gross.  Tuesday, graham crackers and half an apple were added to my menu, but my booty was still planted on the couch whenever possible to avoid dizziness and nausea.

Wednesday, I was bound and determined to go for a run.  I had to wait a few hours after being awake for my stomach and bowels to chill out, but after eating and patiently waiting, I finally got to run.  It was warm and my body had to work harder, but it felt awesome to run again--I hadn't run since Friday.   Although I was wearing my garmin, I avoided checking my pace so I would run strictly according to how my body felt.  I finished 5.1 miles and was pretty hot and kind of weak by the end, but my legs felt real good.  My average and max heart rate during the run were 20 beats higher than normal, but that was to be expected after being sick.  Once I got home and cooled down with water, gatorade, and standing in front of our window unit, I felt better.  I was also determined to eat more than saltines and graham crackers this day.  I was so happy my stomach didn't have any complaints about my chocolate/banana/peanut butter/protein shake as my post-run 'refuel'.  

I think I'm officially done being sick and am getting my strength back.  Yesterday I only ran a few miles before realizing I started my run much too late into the day to be  hero and run in the heat.  I felt parched after 2 miles and then admitted to myself that an 8-mile wouldn't be such a great idea.  And now today, I'm about to take Tina on a long walk to keep my legs loose and put a couple more miles on them.  Wish me luck on my race tomorrow and I'll try to keep myself as hydrated as possible today.  And I'll start memorizing the course map so I don't get lost and accidentally run into a bear cave.  

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Who else hates 24/48 hour stomach bugs?  Hopefully everyone I am sure.  

Do saltines help your stomach?  What are your stomach bug remedies?

Provo City Half-Marathon Race Recap

Let this race go down in history as our first road race together--just me and him, him and me, running and sweating side by side.  How romantic.  Let it also go down as the roughest road race in my racing history {in my rookie history of 5 races} to date.  And no, luckily I didn't get sick and throw up all over the place.  And no worries, I'm not looking for a pity party, I just want to record it all so I can remember/learn from it.

Saturday morning {May 5th} began around 4:10am with us slowly crawling out of bed.  We quickly ate and put on our running gear.  Once I was dressed, I jumped up and down while shaking my head to wake myself up and get excited to run.  Bet that's an interesting mental picture.  Z stared blankly with a "you're crazy baby" look on his face before laughing at me and mumbling about how he wishes he was still sleeping.  The race started up Provo canyon, so they had the runners take buses up to the start, with the last bus scheduled to leave at 5:30am.  Don't look so excited babe.

We got in line to wait for the buses at 5:00am.  And it was around 5:18am that I realized I forgot my garmin...too bad I can't run a race without that cursed blessed watch.  So I immediately began to panic and told Zuriel we had to go back for it.  HAD to.  He {lovingly} said "Yeah right, you go back, I'll see you at the finish line".  Ha ha...basically I would be cutting it pretty dang close if I ran back to the car, drove to my grandpa's house, grabbed my watch, drove back, and searched for parking, all in 12 minutes before the last bus was scheduled to leave for the start line.  Honestly truly, I wanted to cry.  Then I had the brilliant plan to call my sleeping brother and his 9-month pregnant wife...and then they came to my rescue.  In my defense, they were sleeping 10 feet away from my garmin, they were my best {and only} option.  I ran out to meet them before the 'road block' signs and they handed me my watch.  I owe them something real big for that.  

Once we got to the start line, the sun started coming up and I waited in line for 30 minutes to use the bathroom before the race started.  You totally wanted to know that piece of info, I just knew it.  I had exactly enough time to wait for the bathroom, check my bag into 'gear check', jog to the start line, and scream with excitement before the gun went off to start the race.  I also had enough time to snap this shot of and quickly cheer for the marathon runners starting their race, I was excited for them.  The marathon started at 7:00am with 247 runners and the half-marathon started at 7:15am with 1,103 runners.

Then we were off!  The first 9 miles were basically downhill.  Which initially sounds ideal, right?  Better than the entire race being up hill, that's for sure.  However, I was still healing from shin splints that had started the week before {side note: downhill makes the shin splints much worse}.  Zuriel on the other hand was ecstatic about the downhill because his injury he received the week before felt better on the downhill--lucky duck.  He strained his achilles during a 10-mile run the saturday before race day...  Needless to say, our 'goal time' for the race was kinda sorta thrown out the window.  {this is us super excited to start the race} 

We were both going to be happy and satisfied if we both finished the crazy race...it was a little sad, a little romantic, but mostly just sweaty and intense.  We started out feeling great, with the beginning miles passing quickly.  But, this was the roughest race for me, remember?  So mile 1 for me, felt awesome.  Naturally I'd feel awesome, it was only the first mile.  But hello mile 2 marker, thank you for suddenly making me feel miserable.  Basically Z was {unexpectedly I might add} feeling fantastic and wanting to take advantage of all the downhill action by getting in some fast miles.  I was trying, I really was, to keep up and fly down those 9 miles, but my shins just would not let me.  I was frustrated.  And we had both thought I would be the one pacing us, with Z and his gimp ankle trying to keep up.  It was the complete opposite, and I was so glad Z didn't get impatient but was instead encouraging me the whole way.  My lower legs felt like huge weights, but I ran as hard as they'd let me.  

On top of the crazy shin splints, my bowels weren't so happy.  A port-a-potty break was mandatory just after mile 8.  A mile later, I about stopped again for the bathroom.  But then something magical happened.  Once I saw mile marker 10 ahead, I caught a second wind.  All of the sudden, my shin pain literally dissolved, my bowels calmed down, and my mental strength decided to say hello again.  Almost simultaneously, Z looked over at me with this tired look and told me it was getting hard.  I smiled back and told him "Well good because I feel awesome.  Lets do this, let's finish hard".  Now it was my turn to return the favor and encourage him the final three miles.  Just before mile 12 Zuriel said he didn't think he could keep it up for the last stretch.  I told him to remember why we signed up for the race...that this was more than just a race for us {I'll write a separate post as to why}. 

We pushed ourselves the final and longest {it always seems that way} mile and TRIED to cross the finish line holding hands, but some guy kept getting in the way.  No joke, he and Z were throwing elbows the last ten feet.  We walked through the finisher's shoot, with medals placed around our necks, and grabbed some water, bananas, then got in line for the finisher's breakfast--french toast.  We didn't think our stomachs would be in the mood for french toast after a race, but turns out it was just what we needed.  It was delicious.

We waited in line for massages...and it is always worth the wait.  My calves must have been doing a lot of compensating for the tightness in my shins because they were so incredibly sore.  Thank you masseuse lady for helping me realize just how tight they were.  After the post-race fun, we met up with a couple of our friends and Zuriel's sister for breakfast {his sister and one of our friends had run the 5K and did awesome}.  I know we had just eaten some french toast maybe an hour ago, but it was time for a full breakfast.  I hadn't had Magleby's before, but they provided the french toast after the race, so we knew if we went for a full breakfast later--they wouldn't let us down.  Here's to a egg white spinach omelet, potatoes, and english muffin with good friends.

Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed running this race with my husband by my side the whole way.  Except for the last two seconds, crossing the finish line, when he got caught behind mr. competitive elbow thrower.  We should buy one of the finish line photos for the visual memory of it.  

After Magleby's breakfast, stretching, foam rolling, and showering, we went to lunch with my brother, his pregnant wife, and our family friend Max.  It might seem like our meals were unnecessarily close together, and that may be true.  I have no comment except that we ate when we were hungry.  We also had received coupons in our race bags for a 'buy one, get one free' deal, so we couldn't pass those up now could we.

Running, food, relaxing, food, and now time for relaxing.  We couldn't relax too long before needing to head up to Salt Lake to meet up with friends for a cinco de Mayo party--it was May 5th afterall.

Since meeting Zuriel, we have celebrated Cinco de Mayo together every year, we could probably call it a tradition now.  But being out of town for this holiday for the race, we couldn't throw our usual party of carne asada fajitas with fresh guac, pico, tortillas, rice, and tres leches.  Luckily, our good friends were throwing a party of their own and we got an invite {thanks!}.  Complete with pinata and virgin daiquiris.  

It was an enjoyable weekend of intense running, delicious food, and fun times spent with good friends. We were sad to have to go back to work Monday.  Also, I wasn't the one who's skills tore the pinata apart...us girls left that part to the boys.

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-How did you celebrate your Cinco de Mayo?  Even if you're not hispanic, when there's an excuse to celebrate with food and friends, you gotta take it.

-What was your 'bad race'/'bad run'/'bad hair day'/bad anything experience?

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

Pre-race

Yesterday Z and I flew into Houston, TX and we felt the humidity the second we stepped off the plane.  It was bittersweet {and I was so tempted to type 'bittersweat'...I'm so funny...}.  

Today consisted of lots of food, water, gatorade, the race expo, a few errands, and now it's bedtime.  

I have my race day outfit laying out, ready to be worn and sweated in tomorrow.  Pre-race jitters are present, but miniscule compared to the jitters I felt before my first marathon.  

More than anything, I'm excited for the memory I'll have of me and my dad running our first road race together.  Bring it on!

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!