26.2 or die.

I just finished my first marathon. Well, not just. I finished on Sunday at around 11:30 am. It was crazy. I am crazy. It was one of the most exciting things I've ever done in my life.

I've been training for this event for months; since May. I don't really know what demonic impulse got into me that made me think "I'd like to see how much punishment my body can take. Let's run a marathon!" But, one day, I was running my typical 30 minute, slow, 3 mile runs, and I thought, "I bet I can run a marathon." And it was all over from there. I bought a book by Hal Higdon, a world class runner who writes for Runner's World, made a training schedule based on his book, and was off.

When I first started training, I looked at the 20 miler at the end of my training schedule and couldn't even comprehend that kind of distance. I was scared and intimidated, so I didn't even think about it. I just ran the shorter distances that I had to think about that week. Then, I ran my first 9 miler. Then, it was 12. Pretty soon I had run a 16 mile run, and people were starting to look at me like I was crazy when I talked about my running. Along the way, I got tendinitis in my ankles, and was worried that I wouldn't even be able to finish my training schedule.

Anyway, whatever happened, on Sunday at 7:00 in the morning, I found myself at the starting line of the Boulder Backroads Marathon. A distance I had never run before. I had been awake since 4:30 in the morning, so I could eat my typical pre-run breakfast of oatmeal and coffee. I had gotten some insider tips from the hotel manager about where to go and how to get to the start lines before the crowds. My mom was standing to the side, snapping pictures. Tom Petty's "Running Down the Dream" was playing, and as cheesy as it was, it was so appropriate for me, I got choked up. Then, we were off.

My legs were tight for the first couple miles, and I just concentrated at keeping myself at a reasonable pace (I was aiming for a 10 minute mile average). Before I knew it, we had passed the 5 mile mark, and I was feeling great. My legs had loosened up, and I was breathing easily and steadily. I planned to stop at 6 miles and eat a little something and drink a little something before continuing on, but at 6 miles, I was feeling so good, I didn't want to break stride. So, mid-stride, I pulled a little candy bar out of my Camelbak, ate it while running, and sucked down a little Propel water from the water bladder. (In practice, I had always stopped to walk after 5 or 6 miles, to conserve energy). At 8 miles, I noticed a little soreness in my right heel, but figured it would go away after a while, so I ignored it. There was a big down hill, during which I just cruised. My training in Colorado Springs prepared me well for hills, so I passed quite a few people on uphills as well. Around 16 miles, a dude with a fro-wig came biking by with a radio blasting "Kung Fu Fighting" and thanks to him, I was recharged for another couple miles.

By 18 miles, I felt like my fuel tank had completely been sapped. I was in single digits to finish, but I was so tired, I could feel the distance stretching, interminably in front of me. My heel was still hurting, and there were some daunting hills in front of me. My legs felt like two bales of hay. Not agile, not light, not loose. Just hanging there, almost completely useless. But, I kept going. I kept thinking "this is going to hurt whether I stop now, or whether I stop at the end. I am NOT going to drop out, and walking is NOT an option!" I slogged on. But, at 25 miles, almost without me being conscious of it, I was walking. There were a couple hills right at the end, and even though I had trained on hills, by the time 25 miles rolled around, I could barely move. I got to the top of the hill and started trudge/running again, until I had another hill to climb. I walked again, but then, I could see the finish line, and I thought "no WAY am I going to walk across that finish line!" So, I began running again, with adrenaline and energy.

As soon as I turned the corner towards the chute, I saw my friends Greg, Kristen and Rayna standing there, cheering me on. And then the announcer said my name and everyone started cheering, and I began crying. I heard my family shouting my name, and I raised my hands in victory. Typical and cheesy I know, but after 26 miles, you don't care about being cheesy, you're just so pumped to have done it. I found my mom and my sisters and my dad as soon as I crossed the line and there were tears in all of their eyes. It was a moment I'm sure I'm going to cherish for my whole life.

I just checked the race results. 4:25:44.4. I finished 66 out of 163 women. Not bad for a first time out :). Shave 45 minutes off my time, and I'm qualifying for Boston!