Marathon Diaries, Part Two: 26.2 Lessons I learned while running my 1st marathon

With the Caskey crew at the Vienna Metro, dark and early. Mamma C & Joya did the 10K and then cheered us on at Mile 16.

Whose idea was this? That question did enter my mind in the weeks leading up to the marathon. I'm not sure who mentioned it first, my husband, or his dad, but last March we decided to embark on a family adventure and sign up for a marathon, together. It turned out to be one of the most incredible experiences of my life. Here are a few things that I learned along the way.

1. I wear my emotions in my running shoes

In the darkness of the early morning, I saw the lights of the Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Monument and the Capitol. I would run by all three in just a few hours. I was about to run my first marathon. I cried. (no surprise there really) And I was brought to tears during about 70% of the race by the people I saw, the pride that I felt in myself, and sometimes just from the pain.

2. Recognize the heroes around you.

In Part 1, I wrote about the wheelchair racer on the hill. What I didn’t tell you is that he was a wounded vet, and he was one of many. Throughout the race I saw several young marines running with their buddies names on their shirts. No doubt their lives were lost in Iraq or Afghanastan. And then there were the fathers, running for their sons. I ran behind Cpl Ward’s dad for about 6 miles. The back of his shirt “Cpl Ward. My Son. My Hero.” I read those words over and over for miles. The last time I saw him was in Crystal City. A female runner said – “you’re son was a hero” as she ran past him. He said “Yes. Thank you.” Of course, I cried. Again.

3. Be grateful. Say Thank you.

The Marine Corps Marathon is nothing short of inspiring. The course is beautiful, every last step of it is under the shade of brightly colored fall leaves or with a view of the monuments that make our Nation’s Capitol. There was rarely a moment that we weren’t being cheered on by crowds, large or small. It was incredible. And the Marines. Oh, the Marines. Their faces kept me moving. These men and women who have given their lives to serving our country. They may have thought I was saying thank-you for their cheer of encouragement or for the Powerade, but I was saying thank-you for so much more. As the daughter, sister, niece, daughter-in-law and granddaughter-in-law of Marines, these men and women hold a very special place in my heart. Seeing them in uniform throughout the course….well, I cried, and just said thank-you to any of them that I made eye contact with.

4. I love hill work

There were two significant hills in the first half of the race. There was a collective groan in the pack when we hit them, but I actually kind of smiled. Neither hill was as fierce or as long as “The Beast” in Griffith Park, so I felt good. My team’s Saturday can include the beastly hill up to three times in long training. So, two hills, not nearly as long or as steep, I owned them.

5. Funny signs of encouragement are better than a shot blok

They say that laughter is the best medicine. And it’s true. A funny sign held by someone in the crowd will make you laugh out loud and forget your pain for at least 90 seconds. You will swear to remember all of them, not knowing that you will forget most of them in your exhaustion. But here are a few I remember.

- Run Like You Stole Something – a classic, but made me laugh nonetheless; I also used it as the caption for the picture I took of Watergate.

- Free Mimosas if You Stop Now – tempting!

- Jack Bauer never ran a marathon, but you are. – hilarious

- The End is Near – held by someone dressed as the Grim Reaper at the end of the 14^th St Bridge

- There are CUTE MARINES at the Finish Line! – enough said.

- And a group of girls dressed in full 80’s neon attire held 80’s Trivia signs and a boom box. It was a reminder that this is “fun.”

6. “Almost there” is a very cruel phrase

You came out to cheer on the marathoners, and for that I thank you. But calling out “almost there” at any mile prior to 24 is just cruel. This is also a mental race that I’m running.

7. A table of orange slices is prettier than a rainbow

Coming out of Georgetown and towards the Kennedy Center, I saw the most beautiful sight. A table of orange slices. I think I cried.

8. I like half marathons

Seeing the mile markers for 12, 13 & 14 on Haines Point, I realized that I like Half Marathons. You have to work for it, and you can still walk the next day. Thankfully my brother ran with me from mile 11 to mile 16 to help me not focus on that very fact.

9. Your ability to take self portraits significantly lessens in quality while running a marathon

me attempting to get a picture of myself with the Washington Monument

my brother's view of me attempting to get a picture of myself with the monument

my brother gets a much better picture of me and the monument

10. When in doubt, rock it out

Some of my favorite new additions to my playlist were:

o Us – Regina Spektor – on Spout Run Parkway

o Me and Bobby McGee- Janis Joplin – at Georgetown Reservoir

o Meet Me Halfway – Black Eyed Peas – on National Mall

o Halo (Club Remix) - Beyonce – on National Mall

o Get Right Back (Where We Started From) – Army Navy – on 14^th Street Bridge

o Best Supporting Actor – One For the Team – in Crystal City

o Seven Nation Army – The White Stripes – at the Pentagon

Shortly after Seven Nation Army helped me get my game face back on for the finish, these fun songs led me in the final stretch. I was so happy that I put such fun songs at the end. Despite my pain, I smiled the whole way to the finish line.

o Come On Eileen – Dexy’s Midnight Runners

o Sweet Caroline – Neil Diamond

o Don’t Stop Believin’ (Glee Cast Version) – Glee Cast

o Walkin’ on Sunshine – Katrina and The Waves

o I Gotta Feelin – Black Eyed Peas

11. A true friend will hug you when you are covered in powerade and smell like 18 miles of hard work

Getting a hug from my dear friend Jodie who I hadn't seen in nearly a year. She drove a long way to cheer me on and was in the perfect spot - Mile 18 - when I really needed some encouragment.

12. The Rocky Theme Song never gets old

At the Capitol steps, a high school band started to play the Rocky Theme Song. As a pack, we instantly regained some determination in that moment.

me trying to take a picture of myself with the Capitol. see lesson #9

13. As terrible as you look and feel, you will smile for every official race photog you see on the course.

taken by my an unofficial race photog, my brother. me & my nephew (and #1 cheerleader) at mile 11

14. I am stronger than I think but I cry like a girl.

But I think we've established that.

15. The 14^th Street Bridge is the longest bridge known to man

I addressed this in Marathon Diaries, Part 1, and have since discovered that I was not the only one that felt this way. It truly felt longer than the entire first 6 miles.

16. With enough determination, I can push through more pain than I have ever known. Not finishing, isn’t an option.

Left leg calf cramping began at Mile 3. Right foot pain started at Mile 14. Pain everywhere, mile 18-24.

In the days after the race, I was on crutches. It seems the pain in my right foot was real and I couldn’t put any weight on it. I saw a running friend of my sister-in-laws the day after the race. Seeing my crutches, she asked what happened. She said, “oh, so you didn’t finish.” I blinked in confusion of the statement. Not finish? “Oh, no. I finished.”

17. Never take food, or pills, from strangers – unless you’re running a marathon

Regular rules of life don’t apply during a marathon. Pee on the side of the road in full view of others? Fine. Unwashed hands? Acceptable. Taking food, electrolyte pills, or painkillers from strangers? Whatever helps. Thank you to the kind woman in Crystal City with the large bag of pretzels. To be able to get the taste of gu, mixed with shot blok and blue powerade out of my mouth was a gift that I can’t thank you enough for.

18. The smell of cheap, warm beer at mile 23 may activate your gag reflex

Speaking from experience.

19. A Marine saying “Congratulations Ma'am” and putting a Marathon Medal around your neck = tears

Finishing a marathon is emotional. A young man in uniform, who has dedicated his life to serving our country (who has endured more hardship in his service than I have in the last 6 hours) putting the medal around your neck for running 26.2 miles will make you cry. Again.

20. I have no idea what those silver blanket things do, but I’ll wrap it around myself because it’s shiny like my medal.

with my father-in-law & my husband after we finished. Dad C - congrats on your first finish and the inspiration to do this as as a family adventure!

21. Your mom will be so happy that you finished the race alive and standing, that she will take off your dirty shoes and sweaty socks and put the crocs on your feet that you’ve been thinking about for the last 12 miles.

Thanks Mom. I loved the excitement on your face as I charged the hill to the finish. And of course, I loved the Whoopie Pies.

22. If you look like you are about to make a serious mess in the middle of the floor, a security guard of an office building will unlock a bathroom for you.

Him: Is she going to be sick? My Mother-in-Law: Yes. Him: Come this way. Beautiful secret corridor to a bathroom without a line. Me: Relief.

23. Few people will massage your feet on the metro, after nearly 6 hours of running. But your dad will.

Thanks Dad (pictured below running alongside me from Miles 9 to 11) Not just for the foot massage, but for running to different mile markers to cheer me on. It meant the world to me to have you cheering me on in this same race that you’ve rocked three times.

24. An Ice Bath will change your life

I live in a smallish 1930’s apartment that doesn’t have a bathtub. I had never experienced an ice bath after a long run. Back at the hotel, desperate to try anything to make the pain go away, I filled up the tub with cold water and ice and got in. Holy. Cold. Pause. Smile. I can’t feel my legs. And that’s a very, very good thing.

25. Running for dessert only works if your system will accept food after 26.2 miles of brutality. But we stopped for a cone and a shake anyway. And enjoyed my mom's traditional marathon whoopie pie.

26. Pain is temporary. Glory is forever.

So many people had this saying on their shirts or on signs in the crowd. I didn't understand it until I saw the finish line. In those moments I felt no pain. Exhilaration. Euphoria. Mild disbelief. Pride. Relief. Joy. Overwhelming sense of accomplishment. Look how far I've come.

.2 I want to do this again with a stronger finish and better time

Marathon Diaries, Part 1: Perseverance: Get it.

I gave everything I had to get to that finish line. But, along the way I took in an incredible amount of perspective, insight and inspiration. So much in fact that to tell you about it, it will have to come in pieces. Here is Part 1 – Perseverance: Get it.

As I was carbo-loading the night before the marathon, my nephew was excitedly telling me that he can now skip a bar as a he swings across the monkey bars. His actual words: “Yeah. My friend taught me how. I couldn’t do it a first, but I just persevered. And then I could do it.” Yes, he uses words like persevere. He’s 7.

I never thought I’d be a marathoner, but after months of training I was there at the starting line of the Marine Corps Marathon with 25,000 others. I had hours of work ahead and the determination to get to the finish line. Words like perseverance, determination, hard, almost there, cramp, happy, dig deep, pain, finish - all of these words took on a new meaning last Sunday as I moved through all 26.2 miles of my first marathon. Inspiration and insight came from within this pack of people around me – runners, walkers, bystanders, Marines.

Mile 3

I saw him first in Georgetown on the hill up to the reservoir. A racer in a wheelchair digging deep to get up that hill. He was working hard but the progress was slow. Very slow. There was a battle between determination and defeat going on, you could see that in his face. But one thing was clear, he was getting up that hill. Every runner that passed cheered him on – Get it. You got this. Way to go man. A mile after that hill, I heard shouts from behind me. Get left. Chair coming through. Get left. We all started to yell it forward as he made his way through on the right side. We cheered as he passed. All of us happy to see that he won that battle. Each hill for the next 6 miles, the same would happen. He flew by me coming out of the water stop at mile 11, heading into Haines Point. I never saw him again. I would have loved to see him finish. That last .2 hill to the finish line was brutal, but I saw his determination and I know he got to the top.

Mile 20

Everyone says you hit the wall around mile 20. It’s true. It’s a brick wall built of extreme pain, self-deprecating thoughts and exhaustion. My foot was throbbing. My legs. Oh, my legs. It hurt everywhere. My time was much slower than I had anticipated and I was becoming more and more terrified of not being able to “beat the bridge.” (not getting to the 14^th Street bridge by a certain time, meant not being able to finish the race) And as I turned onto 14^th Street, I saw my dad, brother and nephew cheering me on. I burst into tears. My brother paced me for about a half a mile. He told me – this is the part I told you about. I know it hurts. But you’re there. You’ve done this. Now, you just finish it...Or something like that. What he didn’t tell me is that the 14^th Street Bridge is the longest bridge known to man. It may as well have been a mountain. I felt like hell, and it seemed like I was making zero progress. This bridge was never ending! And, it wasn’t just me. So many around me appeared to be so relieved to beat the bridge that their paces slowed significantly. We were all just shuffling forward, giving into the battle of determination vs. defeat.

Then something switched. I just wanted to get off this bridge and finish this race, but I was going to have work for it. I asked a bystander in the crowd to tie my right shoe tighter. Delirious Race Logic: if you can’t stop the pain, just make your shoe tighter so you can’t feel it anymore. I turned up my music, and for the next 5 miles told myself, sometimes out loud, “it’s all in your head.” I dug deep, and I got to the top of my personal hill. I couldn’t do it at first. But, I just persevered. And, then I could do it.

Post Marathon finish with our nephew.

Maybe I'm Crazy...

When I tell people that I'm training for a marathon, they often respond with a look of -why? Or, more often - you are outta yo mind fool.

Tonight as I got ready for bed...at 10pm on a friday night...applied a cup full of bengay to my left leg... following an hour with the foam roller... took advil to ease the pain... layed out bengay patches to adhere pre-run... set my alarm for 5am (on saturday morning)...looked in the mirror and said I can do 22 miles....frankly I started to see their point.

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Tête-á-Tête on Nineteen

Saturday was a BIG day for me. Nineteen big ones were on my marathon training schedule. Longest mileage of my life. The legend that most first time marathoners hit their wall at 18 the first time through, was hanging heavily in my mind. At the same time, there were (and still are) fires in the Los Angeles area. I convinced myself that the air quality would be deemed too poor for such long mileage. However, as I made my way to training, I could clearly see blue skies. I arrived at my standard time, approximately 11 minutes late, and joined the group mid-stretch. I was just in time to hear that 19 miles was still up for the running. Oh….. Goody.

For the first 6 miles of my course, I looked, well sniffed, for any excuse to call it off. To my dismay, I mean, uh, excitement…. the park had the usual scent – cut grass, tilled dirt, fresh horse manure, and a slight whiff of skunk. Mmmm. Breathe that in deep. Not even a hint of smoke.

Six miles turned into 12, and a switch flipped in my brain. I became determined to finish before the winds changed, moving the smoke onto my route and cutting off my run. I was focused, and suddenly I wanted to run this entire 19 mile route. 4 hours and 8 minutes (I never said I was fast!) after I tried to find a reason to quit, I ran back to the cheers of my teammates, having completed my first 19 miles.

My friend Maricia has asked me, what do you think about when you are running for so long? Indeed. That is a lot of conversation with yourself. But, some good stuff comes out of it that tends to apply to more than just my running.

Take the labels off. 19 miles sounds long. But, it isn’t as scary when I think of it as – Hill Loop, Out and Back, Reverse Hill Loop, Water Stop and Back. If I take it in pieces, and take the label of “long” off, take the number off, it becomes attainable.

Mini-Goals are Less Scary. On our route there is a big hill. Bertha. The Beast. THE hill is a hefty and steep one. Early in my training my friend Lori told me to focus on the hydrants. There are fire hydrants, at a somewhat equal distance apart, all the way up the hill. I run to one, walk to the next, run to one, walk to the next. Focusing on mini-goals gets me to the top without injury, without feeling defeated, and without doubt.

Believe in yourself. Determination is a funny thing. It really moves you forward, but it also forces you to really believe in yourself. This week I did, and it made all the difference.

P.S. There is no such thing as too much bengay. And, never underestimate the power of ice.

Dressing Out

I hated P.E. in high school. HATED. P.E. As if I wasn’t awkward enough in high school, P.E. brought every one of my insecurities into the open like one of those magnifying mirrors that we all love and hate. At our high school, we had to “dress out” for gym. Dressing out equaled a pair of very long, green and gold, scratchy synthetic shorts and a grey t-shirt. Of course, there were some girls who managed to make this drab, baggy poly-blend look cute. Regrettably, I was not one of them. Already feeling “less than,” this uniform only added to the problem. The phrase “look good, feel good” can also be the opposite. “Look bad, feel worse.”

Dressed in this sorry get-up, we were led out to a track like lambs to the slaughter. Too dramatic? You weren’t there. You don’t know. We were forced to do “fitness tests,” and I was not fit. We had to do sit-ups, sprints, pull-ups, push-ups and run that blessed mile around the track. I hated that friggin mile. I would almost always come in last. I hated to run, and actually refused to do it. Instead I walked the whole thing, cursing under my breath.

The truth of it is that I believed that I hated to run. And to dig deep into my teenage psyche, my insecurities about myself generated the lie that I was not capable of such a task. But I was, and I am. A year ago I found out that I can run, that I can finish races, and that in fact, I really, really like it. I don't have to be the fastest, or the smallest, or have done the most races. I just have to run. Just for me.

Today I ran 16 miles. SIX.TEEN. miles. So, Take That Coach, whatever your name was, that frowned at me for my 16 minute walk around the track! There were several points on this morning's run that I thought I couldn’t make it. That I wanted to stop and hitchhike back to my car. The insecure girl in the ugly uniform would have stopped, but I’m not that girl anymore. Instead I believe that, in the words of my husband, or whoever it is that he is quoting, “You can choose to be the victim. Or you can choose to be anything else you want to be.”

I choose to be a runner.

And, I run for dessert.

Today's dessert:

Red Velvet Whoopie Pie from Alcove Cafe in Los Feliz, CA

*I am 11 short weeks away from my first marathon. On October 25^th, I will cross the finish line of a 26.2 mile race.