26.2

One day this summer, I decided I wanted to run a marathon for real. I have always thought about it, and never done anything about it, so I got online and used my good friend Google to search "marathons in Utah."  I found two on the weekend of October 4, and debated (for all of 2 minutes) Park City, or St. George. And went with Park City. I signed up for the marathon without reading much of anything about it, and then looked at the calendar to decide how long I had to train. I found a 16 week training program beginning the next day, and ending the day of the race. So I printed her off, put her on the fridge, and got myself out of the house and running!

In the middle of my training my leg decided to start acting up. After not being able to run for a few weeks, I went to see a doctor, and he "diagnosed" (more like just took a stab in the dark, but same thing, right?) tendinitis. He told me to rest up, ice it, and get back into running slowly. The problem was that the marathon was coming right around the corner. So after 2 weeks, I gave up the "resting" idea and jumped back in my running shoes to train. It was painful, but it was manageable until I stopped running. Then I spent time with a bag of frozen peas.

The morning of October 3 came (the day prior to the race, sorry guys, not quite there yet.) and my throat was on FIRE. My nose started to get a little clogged, and I knew things were going to be miserable pretty quick. Because of the beautifully timed sore throat, my racing mind, and my anxiety I did not get much rest the night before, but I got up early anyway and made the trek up to Park City. By this point, my cold had hit me pretty hard, and I didn't have any DayQuil to my name. Rough way to start the day, but no other choice!

 It. Was. Freezing.

I started talking to a couple who happened to walk up around the same time I did, which happened to be way too early. They were avid marathoners who were just driving through town and decided they might as well jump in the race. They also told me they do Iron Man's every now and again if they get tired of marathons. (seriously? crazy people....) Anyway, in our discussion it came up that this was my first marathon.  The wife looked at me with a shocked look, and proclaimed, "Are you an IDIOT?" (and yes, that was a direct quote.) She then proceeded to tell me that this was known as one of the hardest marathons in the United States at the time, and basically that I would loose a piece of my soul on the course...thank you for your kind words of encouragement woman.  She told me to take my "average marathon time" (since I have one of those....???) split it in half, add the half to the end of my average time, and then add on half an hour to an hour based on how my body handles elevation. 

Well..........

Asthma + elevation = SLOW

But I couldn't back out then, so off I went. 

 About 10 minutes into the race, I tripped over the roots of a tree and fell on my face in the woods.  It was really great. Especially because at that point everyone was still running in a single-file line together. But I was able to pop right back up and keep going. About that point my iPod decided to start being really annoying, and only playing stupid songs. I got really fed up with it, so I just took it out and ran without any music the rest of the time. 

 The race continued to climb up the mountain on the ski trails. 

 There were times that we were in the trees, and it was dark and cold, and there were times we broke out and saw the entire city below us. It was unreal. And SO beautiful. But the course was so confusing. I definitely missed the first turn off and started running down the wrong road until someone saw me from above and yelled at me.  It took me a few minutes to get back on the right track, but I made it. 

 At points it was snowy, and icy, and cold. And did I mention, cold? It was cold.

Then I finally made it up to the peak. 10,000 feet elevation. And I stopped because the views were absolutely spectacular. 

 There was a couple sitting up there that said, "you're half way done!!! Now you just have to work your way back down!" 

At this point in time, I was running next to an older Asian gentleman.  He looked at me and we both looked down the side of the mountain, and looked back at the couple. He then blurted out, "What the heck do they think I am, an ANIMAL?"
The hill going down was insanely steep. One of those that you look at and, even if you've never had it before, your inner acrophobia comes out. I decided I'd better just get going, because it had to happen sometime, and about 10 steps later I slipped and fell onto my bum, and slid the majority of the way down the hill.  It was great. But my leggings didn't even rip! SCORE!

Now, if you're keeping track, that would be
Marathon: 2
Emma: 0

 After we got down the most steep part of the slopes, we wound back through some more of the woods.  At one point I went 7 miles without seeing another human, and just running through the woods alone. There were times (about every 4 minutes) that I thought I was lost, and I would get really worried. I mean, I was in the woods. Alone. With no cell service. And I was lost. But there was always a flag showing I was still on the right trail just around the turn. This was one of those tests of blind faith--you've got to take a few steps into the darkness before seeing the light, ya know? Weird to compare my marathon running to something of a spiritual nature, but honestly, I came to terms with a lot of things in those hours spent out there by myself in nature with nothing to distract me. 

 The entire time I was running through this portion of the woods, the poem by Robert Frost "The Road Not Taken" was running through my mind. I don't think I've read it since 6th grade when I had  to memorize it. Thank you Mr. Washington. Except for some reason, I could only remember one stanza at a time. So I would repeat it in my mind until the next one came to me, and then I repeated those two together until the third came to me. But then the last one would not come to me.  It was extremely frustrating. As soon as I got home I looked it up so that I could remember the end of it.

Also, I have never ever quoted poetry in my mind. Ever. until I became an English major, and now it never goes away. It's rather strange. 

 When I got to this point, I knew I only had a mile and a half left of the course. I could hear the announcer at the bottom of the hill, and I could see the finish line. My body decided that it was more capable than I thought, and I started speeding up. Lucky for me, the last quarter of a mile was a flat dirt path that wound around like a snake. I was trying my hardest to make it into the finish line, because I was so exhausted.
I was taught in high school to run looking up, not down at my feet. A method I like to call lock and pull. Lock your eyes on something and then pull yourself towards it. Once you reach that object, you lock your eyes on the next. That was the only way I would make myself pass people.
 (Side note, that was also how I would end up going way too fast down Southern Ave. I would forget that that strategy did not apply to driving and look down to find myself way over the speed limit. whoops. haha)
 Next thing I knew, my foot caught on a rock, and I ATE IT. Reeeaaaallllllyyyyy hard. I had a really hard time getting back up and making myself start moving again. Once I did though, I looked up and noticed a woman standing just to my left taking pictures. I really hope that she was not snapping at that exact moment, and that those pictures never surface. Anywhere. 

 I ran through the finish line, as the announcer said my name and stated, "she's not finished yet! Now she's got all the booze she could ever want to drink for FREE!" Thank you kind sir, but no thank you. I do not want any booze. Ever. Especially not after running 26 miles.
My body was so exhausted, my mind was so exhausted, everything hurt, and I just started crying for no reason. Welcome to the life of being a girl. It was a rough couple of minutes. I made it to my bag, picked up my shirt, got in the car and drove home as fast as I could. But first I made a stop at Sodalicious first for my first soda in months. Oh man, it was so good.

 I got home and realized that I hadn't put sunscreen on at all that day. My face and neck were a disaster. And with my lovely cold, my nose was especially bad and started peeling the very next day. I looked like I was trying to dress up for Halloween a few weeks too early. #awkward 

 The rest of Saturday and Sunday were spent in bed resting up, or walking around trying not to have to sit down, because it hurt too bad to try and stand back up. NyQuil and Ibuprofen have become my best friends. 

My legs are still bruised and scabbed a little bit, and this lovely cold is still hanging around making my life a little bit (or a lot bit) miserable, but I RAN A MARATHON. 

And I can't wait to run another one! 

Who wants to join me next time??