So I just finished the Avenue of the Giants marathon. Sometimes I really have to ask myself why I wasn't born a sprinter. I can't believe I just trained 5 months to inflict pain and extreme mental and physical discomfort on myself for nearly 4 hours. I'm really not sure why people, and more importantly, I, do this sort of thing. What's worse is that I actually did it quite well which only guarantees that I will be doing it again someday and pushing myself even harder, which can only lead to more pain and discomfort. Here's the recap.
Avenue of the Giants is a gorgeous, almost flat marathon, half marathon and 10K. Just so we get this straight, ALL marathons are 26.2 miles. If it is not 26.2 miles you cannot call it a marathon. If you're running a half marathon, you must call it that and be clear that you are not running a full marathon. 13.1 miles is not a marathon. Not even close. Just had to put that out there. Trust me, if you ever run a marathon, you'll forever be irritated by people who say they are running a marathon this weekend, when they're only doing half. Moving right along. So the race follows the scenic Avenue of the Giants in Humboldt county (northern California) through groves of enormous redwood trees. It's quite breath taking. It's also hard to run while looking up at the sky in search of treetops. The weather was quite cool and the route was gorgeous. Amoung the trees are thick blankets of fern and giant clovers. Apparently there's also giant poison oak- I squatted in it to pee around mile 10.
Every once in awhile I passed by little waterfalls running under the road into the huge river that we followed most of the way. The trees allow for a lot of shade (I'm not kidding when I say they're huge) so it was nice and cool. So cool in fact, that I over hydrated, causing me to have to stop 3 times in the first half of the marathon to pee. Thankfully a few aid stations had bananas because I was starving. I had scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast but I get so hungry when I run these days.
I was actually quite surprised by my ability to stay in the moment for the majority of the run. Usually I get through a run, mentally, by envisioning what it will be like to stop and be done. Since this was going to be a 4 hour trip I decided that wasn't a good idea and I was going to have to settle in and get comfortable (hahaha). So I pictured it to be a day trip. It worked well for awhile and I was way ahead of pace. I just wanted to be under 4:30. When I ran my first (and only) marathon years ago, I hadn't trained very well for it and ran a 5:29. Kinda sad, but whatever, it was my first one. So I had been training to get under 4:30.
I just tried to focus on being in the present and not let myself think about being done (because it was hours away). I did great with that until about mile 18, then things started to hurt. I was worried because I knew I had been running quite a bit faster than I had planned and trained for, which in a race that long can lead to absolute disaster- like having to be carried off the course by an ambulance. My breathing was doing really well though and I had tried to slow down several times during the race to no avail. Sometimes your legs just want to go a certain speed, so you do.
Around mile 20 I began to wonder why on earth I would do such a thing to myself. It was stupid and painful and I didn't want to be doing it anymore. So I just ran faster. I started to pass by a bunch of walkers (fast people who couldn't run anymore)and picked it up even more. The sooner I got done, the sooner I could stop running. There was a point around mile 21 or 22 that I actually almost cried. But I reminded myself that if I cried I would have a much harder time breathing, so I choked back the tears and pushed on. The last 4 miles were the longest of the entire race, but once I got to mile 25 my brain quit working. I just ran. I pulled ahead of so many people in that last mile. As I crossed the finish line, I heard my name being called over the loud speaker "Carrie Bowers from Yreka!" and I almost cried again.
Then I stopped and walked. I had made it in 3:53. An awesome time for me but not quite Boston Qualifying-- which, why the hell would I want to do that? If you've ever done a marathon, the ending is always the same. You stop running, then walk to the people giving out finishers medals, then to the water and food corral. It's literally like herding cattle. I stuffed my face with food (this is instantly, like 30 seconds after finishing) and grabbed a bottle of water and drank several cups of electrolyte replacement drink. I was hurting so bad at that time that I was ready to cry again. Everything hurt. And it hurt deep down to my bones. I hobbled to my car and grabbed two motrin and a leftover vicodin from my surgery. Then I hobbled back to listen to the awards ceremony and eat more food.
Now I'm offically on bed rest. Boston Qualifying time for my age group is 3:40. Everyone is talking about it. Lame. See, Boston is a fairly respected marathon. I guess it's like the marathon of marathons. It's in April. A couple people have already talked to me about it. Here's the thing. You have to qualify for it first. You can't just enter. So if I want to run Boston (ick) not only would I hve to run that one, but I'd have to run one before it and go a 3:40. I'm going to avoid this for awhile.
So I texted my buddy Brian, who is one of those fast marathon runners (much faster than me) and told him I don't know why I do stupid stuff like this. He said it's because I'm psycho like the rest of them. Grrr.
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