I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends

The day began at 4:15 am when I picked up Amy's Dad from next door. We drove down to catch the shuttle together. We had a lovely morning in the dark, drinking black coffee and waiting in line for the port a potties together. Marshall is here visiting from Atlanta and it was a joy to share the experience with him. He prouldy finished his marathon, first one in 13 years!

But how, oh how, will I EVER survive in Florida without my dearest running partner and friend? Jen has been the training shoulder I am most familiar with. She has been my longest running comfort and support. She knows all of the intimate details of my soul, my deepest regrets, and my optimistic hope for the future. We share the love of not just running, but love for our husbands and our children. We trade running strategies as well as life secrets. How will I ever be able to race without her?

I write all of this because something became very clear to me yesterday at the Rock N Roll Marathon here in beautiful San Diego. It goes without saying that I felt convinced SD is home as I ran through the Gas Lamp District. We are departing from here, yes, but I will be pulled back to this place sooner rather than later. I am sure of it. This was not the epiphany I experienced yesterday. It was more that I have never felt totally comfortable in my own marathoning shoes without Jen. She has been on a little hiatis for the last year after the birth of son number two. She made her debut back with La Jolla Half Marathon this last April. She jumped in with me yesterday at mile 15 and ran me to the finish.

Here is the point that was really driven home to me about mile 8: I cannot help but run like the people I am near. That is, if I am running near someone with a short, frantic stride, it causes me to take smaller, choppier steps and it stresses me out. If I am running near someone who is smooth and kind of glides along, it reduces my adrenaline and causes me to slip into a comfortable stride and pace. I needed that from Jen with 11.2 miles to go yesterday.

The race was so crowded at the start, that I did not even SEE a mile marker until mile 8. Seriously, I think I was distracted with all of the people, but we were packed in there for a while. Perhaps it is good I was not able to agonize over every mile, though it is the later miles I really did suffer when I had full view of those numbers dragging by. I felt relatively good coming down the backside of the 163 freeway into mile 10. I loved seeing little Tracy (my other dear running partner, now injured) jumping up and down at mile 12. She, the tiny adorable brunette, bouncing up and down yelling, "I'm so proud of you, girl!!!" She handed me my Sports Beans and I kept moving. i couldn't stop. I was feeling the onset of pain.

I came through 13.1 at exactly 1:44 and remembering thinking that was suisidal. I know that my best marathons have always been me going out a little fast so I can have some time in the bank. I always seem to feel bad at the end, so why not have a few spare minutes to cash in? I was worried, though. I think I mostly maintained an 8:20ish pace until I got to Jen and she tried to keep me accountable to it. Then I got to mile 17 and felt tired and dehydrated. I decided to walk the water station to really get some fluid into my drenched body. We plotted on, with little chit chat, until we got to mile 20. There stood Marc and the little people, yelling for me. I heard Marc say, "The 3:30 pace group just went by like 2 minutes ago!!!!" The funny part is, I had been running behind the 3:40 pace guy, but I thought his pace was a little slow. I had pulled in front a bit, but by mile 16 I do remember seeing some 3:30 guys who must have fallen off their pace. This did my mental state well, especially since I was feeling the effects of going out too fast.

Mile 22 was ugly. There is no nice way to say it. It was the worst part of the course, the little less than scenic, finger that goes out and back where they are clearly just adding on mileage under the nasty freeway bridge. There were tons of people down for the count there. I felt like I had been hit by a truck and succombed to walking quite a few steps in between jogging at a 9 minute mile pace. It was terrible. This continued on through mile 23. I told Jen I was going to give up the Boston Qualifying dream. "I just don't have it anymore." I told her, completely defeated and deflated. She assured me it was just not a good day and reminded me of my 3:37 marathon last January.

Mile 24 and Jen was telling me track stories. I was listening and it felt good to feel free of being a slave to the time. It felt like we were just out on another training run and it was no big deal. I tried to ignore the thousands of people around me. But, I couldn't resist. I had to look at my watch. I think it read 3:22 if I remember correctly. It was going to be close. I decided that I would not be okay with running a 3:41 marathon that day. 3:45 would have been far enough off that I wouldn't have cared, but this close? I was pissed. I ate a few beans and picked it up a notch. Jen had been talking and then looked at me and said, "Good job. You are looking strong." I know she knew what I was trying to do, but the exceptional person and running partner she is, she said nothing to the effect. She continued her story and it was a welcome distraction from the pain in my hamstring that was moving down into my calf.

We hit mile 25 and that is when I said, "Do you think I am going to make it?" She gave me an emphatic, "Yes!" We heard our friend, Mike, cheer for us. I picked it up just a little. I really had nothing left in my legs. We were running along side the MCRD base and that was a little frustrating, to know the finish was so close and yet I still had so far to go. We finally made the left turn onto the base through the gates. Again I looked at my watch. "How far do I have left???" I begged her. She must have sensed the desperation in my voice because she said to me in the tone that only a sympathtic mom knows how to deliver, "I wish I knew..." Some woman in the sidelines heard us and yelled, "800! You have an 800 left!!!"

Just then some Marine yelled at Jen, "Anyone not wearing a race number, peel off now! Do not cross the finish line!" Jen said, "Go, go, go! Do not stop!" I needed to hear that. I was so desperate to be done. I really needed her to tell me to push it to the finish. She jumped out, but I could see her, running through the crowd along the to the finish on the other side of the fence. She was dodging bodies, hurdling kids and yelling at me. I could hear the announcer and see the end. I had to sprint the last 200 yards. I crossed the line with a clock time of 3:40:46, I think, and a chip time of 3:39:15. It was a happy day. I was so emotional when I stopped.

I heard someone yelling my name and I turned to look for Jen. She had found my neighbor and psuedo sister, Amy, along with her real sister, Arah, at the finish. They were cheering and yelling for me. I felt faint and really wanted to vomit. I deliriously walked over to them and told them I needed to keep walking. I went through the shoot and collected all the goodies and my medal. I was dizzy. I was never so happy to see Jen at the end of a race. I know that she made it happen for me. I know that I would have walked so much more if she were not on my shoulder. I know that I would have given it up as a wash and let the time go if she were not there to remind me of the marathoners we are. She is my motivation. She embodies all of the qualities of a runner I strive to have. All of these years the 3:40 has been evading me, it is in her absence. We used to run all our marathons together and consistently go better than 3:40, no problem. Then, life happened and we got married, had kids, got busy. We were not as connected in our races. I needed her yesterday like I needed water. The best part about it is she knew this before I did. That is why she was waiting for me at mile 15.

Things I wish I had done differently:
Not let my hell week take such an emotional toll on me.
Eat more than a quarter of a bagel and 3 bites of a banana at the start (I had a nervous tummy).
Take in more fluid from the beginning, knowing it was humid.
Not run in an outfit with shorts that were like granny underwear. I am filled with dread to see the pictures.

Things I am happy about:
Choking down some Sports Beans when I really did not think I could.
Taking in as much water as I did.
Having loving and supportive friends and family. There is nothing better in life.