This summer I ran my first full marathon with my friend, Dawn. A few weeks before our marathon, we ran twenty miles together. We shared a babysitter so that we could go on a Friday morning. Then we parked one car at the bottom of Provo Canyon and drove up to Wallsburg, where the marathon would start. On our way up, we saw two other pairs of runners, running down Highway 89, so even though the shoulder looked narrow in parts, I figured we weren't too crazy. I had no idea.
When we started, it was a pretty nice morning. We ran for about three miles on country roads before connecting to highway 89. Occasionally a car would speed past us, but for the most part, it was just us out by ourselves. That all changed once we got on the freeway. That shoulder was narrow and semis were speeding past us. Plus, the uphill never seemed to stop and we were running into a headwind.
Around mile twelve, we finally met up with the trail and said good-by to the crazy traffic. A mile or so later, it started to rain. At first it was just a light drizzle, but for the last hour it poured on us. The water was so cold, my hands went rigid and I figured I could skip the ice bath after my run since I was running in it. And then when we could see the parking lot where we were supposed to stop, my Garmin showed that we had run only 19 miles. Ugh! After all that, we weren't going to stop at just 19 miles. So we ran back up the canyon a half mile. The thought of running another six miles after that felt a little daunting, but at least we wouldn't be running next to traffic, with a storm front blowing in our faces, or in rain.
May 18
When we got back to my car, we decided to take pictures of ourselves all soaking wet.
June 9
Before the race, we took a picture. I can't help but think that we look so optimistic and naive.
Unfortunately, on race day, we were running into a fierce wind again, but there is something so fun about running with hundreds of other people. I was excited and ready to go. Then around mile 13, I stopped to go to the bathroom and discovered that Aunt Flo had arrived. What?! I was wearing black pants, but I wasn't sure I could make it another 13 miles without any sort of feminine product. Then I had a flash of brilliance and checked with the first aid people who were better prepared than I was. I was back on track.
But the race course didn't go down to the trail, and instead stayed on highway 89. I never realized how many hills there are until I actually have to run them. Around mile 17, I started to feel sharp pains in my knees, probably the pain of my quad muscle ripping away from my knee socket. So I started to alternate running and walking. By the time I hit the mouth of the canyon, I had six miles left and my knees hurt so badly. When I saw my family, they were stuck in traffic, but they jumped out of their car to cheer for me. I started to cry. I would run for about four minutes until it hurt so bad that I had to stop and then I would walk for thirty seconds. Usually after thirty seconds my knees had started hurting again and it felt better to run. It was also around that point that the thought of another Gu or Power Aid made me want to vomit.
I made it across the finish line in four hours and fourteen minutes then I hobbled over to the first aid station where they wrapped my knees in ice. I have to admit that I'm already planning my next marathon and as much as it hurt, I can't wait to try again, next fall.
It's always fun to see my kids at a race since Dad's the one who dresses them and does their hair. He combed Evie's and left Anna's pigtail in from the day before. The kids got to do a one mile race and Grandma and Aunt Erica were nice enough to run it with them since I wasn't doing any more running that day and I needed an adult to keep an eye on me in my semi-coherent state.
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