Atlanta Publix FULL Marathon

My mind was blown at my very first race expo. There was free food, cheap running attire, and lots of cute running trinkets that I didn't need that stretched from one end of the conference center to the other. Several race advertisers were set up with information and registration for half and full marathons all around the US. As I walked past the Publix Marathon table and the medal caught my eye. I stopped and picked up the medal. I couldn't imagine what it would feel like to have it placed around my neck. The young lady working the booth noticed me and encouraged me to register. I was very hesitant, I was about to run my first half the next day (Thanksgiving Half Marathon). She also informed me that I would get a free t-shirt for registering with her and ten dollars off, who doesn't love a free t-shirt? So I did it.

Registering of course means nothing. After my experience with the half I wasn't sure I ever wanted to run again. My inability to retain fluid after long runs really put a damper on my training. I did several long Saturday runs, never exceeding 13 miles. I also ran the Locomotive Half in Kennesaw, GA to prepare. The marathon loomed over my head for weeks. I knew I was not putting in the necessary mileage. I made the decision to just run the half marathon and train for a marathon at some other point when I was more prepared. Then I heard about Dean Karnazes. He ran 50 marathons in 50 days in 50 states. I watched his documentary. I was fascinated. If he could do that surely I could run the full. I did some research to see what would happen if I ran without being fully trained. Most people said to expect it to take a long time and expect to be sore. I could live with that. 

 We woke up at 4:45 race day. We decided Chris would just drop me off near the start corrals and come back later to be there at the finish since I anticipated it would take me more than six hours to finish. Chris pulled up next to Phillips Arena. I could see all the runners in their brightly colored attire moving in the same direction. This was is. I grabbed my iPod and gave Chris a kiss. I could feel the anxiety in my chest. A few tears rolled down my cheeks. I told Chris I was scared. I was terrified of not finishing. He said a few words of encouragement and I hopped out of the car. The cold wind cut right through me as I started to make my way to the start line. I could here the announcers voice booming over the crowd. I made my way to my corral and started to stretch. Someone sang the national anthem. Music blasted and people joked and laughed with their friends. Why did I look so tense and terrified? Their bibs said it all! Half marathoners! 

Finally we were off. We walked about a fourth of a mile to the start line. People were screaming and cheering on both sides. I felt so proud. Then it hit me. I had to pee. So bad. I didn't know what to do. Time was already ticking and I only had seven hours to finish. Plus I was still stuck in corrals. I tried to ignore the pressing urge to pee and focused on crossing the start. I got chills as I crossed the line. As soon as I went through I started to trot. You have to take it a little slow off the line because there are way too many people crammed together. It was still dark as the heard of runners made their way down the road. I tried to focus on my surroundings...but I had to pee so bad. Within the first mile the opportunity presented itself. I saw the McDonalds from a distance and started to plot my route. I had to sprint across the street full of runners. I grabbed the door and busted into the McDonalds. The woman behind the counter was saying something to me but I had headphones in. I crossed my fingers and grabbed the bathroom door. It opened! I ran in, did my business and ran out. I made my way back into the street feeling much better. The whole ordeal took less than a minute. 

Miles one through five went by so fast. Too fast. I kept trying to keep up with the people around me. However, I kept forgetting to think about the fact that most of them were running HALF the distance I was. I tried to slow myself down to a ten minute a mile pace. I did not train much with food, but I didn't have a choice. My stomach was rumbling and I knew I needed the calories. The first station I came to had jelly beans. I thought why not? I shoved a handful in my mouth. I did not consider that they were the strange flavored ones...EW! I could taste butter and all kinds of crap. I grabbed an extra water to rinse my mouth with. I kept chewing the glob in my mouth, trying to swallow as much of the sugar as possible. I had to spit out most of it out. 

The race led us through Little Five Points and not long after that the full marathon split from the half marathon. Thank goodness! I was so tired of keeping up with them! There were so few people going to the left for the marathon. Everything in my being wanted to go right. I thought about it. I had time to go right. I looked forward. I could do this. As soon as I decided I could do it, I knew I had to figure out how. I knew I was going to have to walk some. I did some quick math and decided to walk one minute every ten minutes. The hills started to get more frequent and more steep. I stuck to my 10 minutes running and one minute walking for a few miles. This system gave me something to look forward too. Around mile ten I started to feel some discomfort on the top of my left foot and in my right knee. I tried not to focus too much on that. Every now and then my walk would happen going downhill and I would postpone it. Can't walk DOWN hill!!! It was around this point that I got passed by the 4:10:00 pace team...I knew I was in trouble (my pace was too fast). 

The half way mark came in Decatur. It felt like the whole town was there to cheer us on. The aid station had oranges. The orange was the most delicious thing I ever ate. I wanted to stop and sit there and eat oranges all day. I tried to savor my last slice but it was gone so fast. I ran twenty or thirty minutes straight because there were so many people out and I didn't want them to see me walking. Mile fourteen and fifteen came and went. Some kind child handed me a pink Popsicle. That really hit the spot. 

Mile sixteen was a struggle. I walked two minutes instead of one. I was still TEN miles from the finish. I had some doubts now. My knees hurt. My hips started to ache. My feet also had nagging pains in the arch, heel, and top of foot. Mile seventeen I walked three minutes. It was all uphill. I decided I would not run up another hill. I could not make myself run up a half mile hill at this point. Mile eighteen was also riddled with steep inclines. I tried to make myself run a straight stretch. My legs would not cooperate. The fatigue had set in. My hips really ached. I tried to focus on one pain at a time. I turned a corner and there was a long uphill stretch. People were passing me quickly. Why weren't they tired?! I saw a police officer. I thought about calling Chris. What would I say? I can't do this? How would he react? I passed the officer and kept going. There were people sitting outside of their houses watching. I could use their cell phones. I didn't want to finish. I didn't care. I still had EIGHT miles to go. Everything hurt. I hated that I was doing this to myself. I started to stubble some. I was done. So done. I could feel panic rise in my chest. I couldn't breathe. I choked a little and gasped for breath. I started to cry. I realized I couldn't cry. I cried because I couldn't cry. Finally a few tears rolled down my cheeks. I stopped moving. I bent over and let my knees rest on the ground. The pain did not stop. My body throbbed. I cried. Still the tears would barely form. I felt a hand on my shoulder. An older man was asking if was ok. I most certainly was not! I wanted to tell him that. But something within me would not allow myself to do it. I assured him I would be ok. I picked myself up of the side of the road. The man did not looked convinced. I am sure I looked like roadkill coming back life. I nodded my head trying to assure him and myself that I was ok. I started a light jog. 

The next few mile I somehow had the energy to keep running. I even ran up a hill. I started to take in the sights again and try to enjoy my surroundings. Anything to take my mind off the pain. We ran past so many beautiful houses and interesting people. There were a lot of people out in there yards partying it up for St. Patty's Day. There was one house that even set up their own aid station! They had there kids out pouring water for us. The adults were pretty trashed so I was skeptical of the water... I passed but I thought it was a nice gesture. 

Finally we ran into Piedmont Park. I remembered thinking that was close to the end. Sure enough the mile twenty two marker. FOUR miles to go. I could do that. I ran as long as I could. Then I would walk. Repeat. Random strangers called my name and encouraged me to keep going. Two more miles down. We ran past GA Tech. There were photographers taking our pictures. I knew this meant we were close. I wanted to be done SO BAD. I decided I would own that last mile. I kicked it up a notch. I was passing all kinds of people. People that had passed me miles back were walking. I saw people walking towards me with their metals in tow. There was a marker every fourth a mile. I counted it down. I ran faster. I pulled my ear buds our so I could take this in. I could hear the man's booming voice over the PA. I couldn't see the line though. I wanted so badly to see the finish line. I rounded a corner and finally there it was. I could see my time. I could hear the man calling out my name. I wanted to pause time. This was my moment. I crossed the finish line. I had to tell myself to stop running. It hurt to not run. Volunteers were patting me and handing me water. Photographers were snapping my picture. It was all surreal. Finally that medal that I dreamed about was placed around my neck. A lady wrapped me in a space blanket. I looked up and their was Chris on the other side of the gate. I wanted to jump over the barrier. I had to keep moving forward. The gate led me around a corner and into the park where Chris was waiting. He grabbed me and I collapsed into his arms. I started to sob. I was shaking all over. I was in shock. Chris dragged me to a seat. I was laughing and crying and trying to fully realize that I was done. I took my water slow (lesson learned). I laid down on the grass. I was so happy. My entire body ached, but it didn't matter.

I walked to car without stopping for breaks. The weight of the medal around my neck gave me strength. The medal symbolizes the thousands of steps I took to get to that point. If I would have quit at mile eighteen I would have regretted it forever. I will always remember mile eighteen and the courage that it takes to pick yourself up and keep moving forward.          

Atlanta Thanksgiving Half Marathon

There are always a string of doubts that run through my mind when I am about to do something important.  "Do I have my bib? Do I have my watch?  Is my iPod fully charged?  Have I drank enough water?  Did I drink too much water?  Is the race even today?  Are we going the right direction? I think I have to pee."  I snuggle closer to Chris as the marta races on through the dark.  A thought crosses my mind for the first time, why are we here?  It is Thanksgiving!  Why am I not in Kentucky with my family?  This is a day where you sleep in and get lots of rest so that you can stuff yourself full of turkey and rolls.  But here we are on the marta, the city of Atlanta glowing in the distance.  As we near downtown the marta train starts to fill, mostly with people totting suitcases obviously headed to the airport for last minute holiday travel.  Eventually the stops get closer together and people with race bibs and running attire start to join us.  When we finally arrive at our stop and the sun is starting to come up as we are greeted with chilly November air.  We make our way out of the marta station and head to the start line.  The start line is about a half mile away from the marta station and I am thankful for the time to warm up my muscles and stretch my legs after the marta ride.  I begin to feel a little sick to my stomach and I can feel the nerves creeping up.  The string of doubts start to roll again.  I check all my pockets and run through the checklist again (even though it is way too late at this point to do anything if something was missing).

"I need to pee."  I announce to Chris.  We walk into a warm hotel lobby and wait patiently in line.  The line was long due to the number of people trying to avoid using the porta pottys near the start line.  The race was about 20 minutes away from starting.  I decided to go figure out where I need to be when the time comes to begin.  I realize quickly that the line for the start is incredibly long and that I am in corral E, which is of course the last corral.  Since I was running alone, I did not want to pack myself in with thousands of people I didn't know.  I decided to stand by Chris near the gate opening until the corrals started to shift forward.  Twenty minutes flew by and Corral A was off, then B, then C, then...I decided I had to pee.  Chris tries to talk me out of it but my nerves did not give me a choice.  I take off in a sprint to the nearest potty.  I am in and out and back in line in no time (a little out of breath though).

Finally, my corral lurches forward and I give Chris a kiss and join the masses.  The announcer cutely informs us that the leaders have already passed mile 3.  I switch my iPod on a shut out the rest of the world.  "Some Nights" by FUN is blasting in my ears and I feel like I am in an inspirational movie.  The official said the famous words "on your mark, get set, go!" and we were off.  I set my watch and crossed the start line.  It took a couple hundred feet for people to spread out and for me to have enough room to actually run.  I crossed the bridge over I85/I75 in a steady trot.  (Always let the hot shots pass you in the beginning, you will see them again later.)  After mile one people are already walking!  I keep my pace as we wind through downtown Atlanta. During the second and third mile I pass tons of people.  I felt confident and strong.  I spent most of my time outside the cones because the pace was too slow.  I check my watch around mile four and notice that I am keep and 8:30 minute pace...which is way too fast.  I try to force myself to slow down but I am too competitive.  I continue passing people and making good time.  I run the fourth mile in 9 minutes.  We run through Atlantic Station and there are people holding signs and cheering us on.  We cross the interstates again and head down Spring St.  I pass Whole World, where I have spent many a night.  I start to feel tired as we pass the mile 6 marker.  I grab some water at the aid station.  I pour 90% of down my jacket.  The cold water stings my chest and my mouth is still dry.

Halfway through mile six we start up a hill.  The girl next to me is face timing with some one on her iPhone.  Really?  I keep going even though the incline makes me want to walk.  I look up and see something that sends chills all over my body and a smile across my face.  There was Chris! And his Dad and Susan!  I felt like I could cry tears of joy.  Chris and I locked eyes and I knew I could finish.  I waved to his folks and then powered up the hill.  (I couldn't look weak in front of family!)  I charged up the hill and caught my breathe on the down hill.  Mile 7 came and went.  Mile 8 was an easy mile around Piedmont Park.  Mile 9 was all up hill. I check my watch again, mile 9 took me more than 10 minutes.  I try to increase my speed but my body rejects the attempt.  I slow into a jog and try to recover.  Mile 10 marker comes up and I stop to drink water.  (I wanted to get more in my mouth than down my shirt this time.)  At the end of table there was also powerade...so I drank some of that too.  Mile 11 was probably the worst.  I could feel the water sitting on my tummy refusing to be digested.  I got a cramp in my side.  My feet hurt.  I wanted to quit.  I let my mind run over the consequences of stopping or walking.  Nope, no thank you, can't do it I told myself.  I am too proud to give up.  I forced myself to go on even though my legs felt like concrete.  Mile 12 marker showed itself.  I knew I could do it at this point.  I was running an 11 minute pace at this point but I forced myself to speed up.  I started passing people again.  I started back across the bridge.  I could see the Turner Field.  I ran harder and it didn't hurt.  I felt numb.  I sped up.  I could see the finish line.  I crossed it in a full sprint and jogged off to the side.

A woman placed a medal around my neck, someone handed me not one but two bottles of water, another volunteer hands me a space blanket.  I see Chris and his family waiting for me.  I felt SO proud.  I did it!!!  I handed Chris my stuff and wrapped myself in the blanket.  I was drenched in sweat.  Chris' Dad offered us a ride, but I declined because I thought walking back to the marta would be a nice cool down.  I grabbed my post race snacks and then realized I needed to sit.  My body felt like it was shutting down.  I sat on the ground.  My stomach and back hurt.  I laid on the ground.  Chris handed me my water assuming that I was just dehydrated.  I drank the entire bottle.  I grabbed for the next bottle and chugged it in under a minute.  The water felt so good on my dry mouth and throat.  I tried to eat some trail mix but my mouth was still too dry and I couldn't swallow it.  I grabbed for a gatorade.  I drank half the bottle.  Everything still hurt but I decided I would like to get home and hurt on my couch rather than laying in a parking lot in front of Turner Field.  Chris helped me up and we started to walk.  We walked about 100 feet and I felt like I was going to collapse.  I sat down and regrouped.  I felt really bad.  I can't even describe what hurt because everything hurt.  I tried to walk again, we made it about 200 feet and I had to stop.  We continued like this all the way back to the marta.  We stopped at least 6 times for me to "regroup".  I was no longer thankful for the distance between the start line and the marta stop.

Finally we sat and waited for the train.  I was so cold.  (I threw my space blanket away.)  My back and stomach still hurt so bad.  Other runners were getting on the train with us and they all seemed fine. Several people were even standing.  We got on the train and I closed my eyes.  I told Chris I didn't want to do the full marathon that I was already registered for.  In that moment I didn't care if I ever ran again.  I put my head on Chris' shoulder and slowly dozed off.

I woke up suddenly.  My stomach was doing somersaults.  I looked at Chris, my eyes full of alarm.  I put my hand over my mouth and shuttered.  He quickly grabbed the plastic goody bag and thrust it in my face.  The two bottles of water and gatorade resurfaced quickly.  I started to cry and Chris calmed me down.  I look up embarrassingly and no one seems affected.  Most people were trying to avert their eyes and pretend like it didn't happen. My body felt better immediately.  I climbed off the train clutching a dripping plastic bag of my own vomit and somehow in that moment I was proud of myself.  I carried that bag like a trophy (that I deposited in the nearest receptacle).  As we walked down the steps I started thinking out loud about the marathon in March.

My official time was 2 hours and 7 minutes. My watch said 2 hours and 4 minutes...

I had two Thanksgiving dinners that night and stuffed myself full of turkey and rolls.    

                                                                           Before

During

                                                                            After

                                                                      The hardware

                                                Well you know where this comes into play....

My First Steps

My First Steps

The first time I decided to run I had to pry myself off the couch.  Similarly, I had to force myself to pick up the computer and begin typing.  I have been contemplating blogging my journey for months but for some reason I am very hesitant.  I have never been very public with my writing.  I know, I know, I am an English major!  I teach Language Arts for crying out loud.  Regardless, I tense up at the thought of someone reading my writing.  The under confidence could be do to the negative feedback I received from college professors or the consistent inferiority I felt beside my English major cohort.  Anyway, here I am taking the plunge.

Probably not the best way to start off my fist blog ever right?  Warning: this might suck. Either way, I want to document the success, challenges, and stories that accompany my mileage.

I have always enjoyed running.  I loved running in the fair day races in elementary school.  I also enjoyed running during basketball conditioning.  I didn't start to run regularly until college though.  My freshman year I followed a similar path of many before me.  My friends and I ordered pizza at 2 AM, ate ice cream after every meal (it was free!), and drank soda (and other beverages) that were not benefiting our health. The weight crept on quickly.  At home none of the above fatty foods and beverages were at my disposal.  I did not no how to react to so many choices, make healthy decisions for myself, nor did my body know how to respond to the drastic change in diet.  Not only did I gain the freshman 15, but I doubled it.  I gained 30 pounds my first semester at college! My confidence plummeted and I just continued to be out of control for a few months.  Then I decided I wanted to play college volleyball my sophomore year.  Don't get me wrong, I wanted to get in shape to play but also I was afraid of what 180 pounds of me would look like squished and squeezed into volleyball spandex.  I didn't want to find out, so for the first time in my I began running regularly.

The first run was random.  I walked into the weight room unsure of myself.  There were all these hot bulky dudes lifting weights and here I am in my basketball shorts and XL shirt mortified of my lumps, bumps, and double chin.  I didn't even know where to begin with weights so I hopped on the treadmill.  I ran a mile, then two, I remember still how hard it was.  I made a deal with myself and ran 3 whole miles.  I know it took 34 minutes or so but I was proud and I felt great.   I ran 3 miles almost everyday on that same treadmill.  I shaved a whole 10 minutes off my time.  I watched the hotties in the weight room and learned from observation.  Eventually I started lifting weights and other various training activities.  I lost 40 pounds over the course of a year.

After my year of intense training I ran off and on during undergrad.  During student teaching I ran my first 5K at the Berea Spoonbread Festival.  Then I graduated and life happened.  I moved to Georgia and started teaching high school full time.  I commuted an hour to work.  I had papers to grade and lessons to plan.  Once again, over the course of a semester, I gained a lot of weight.  After Christmas 2011, I jumped on the scale and to my horror I saw the largest number ever. 194 pounds. 6 pounds away from weighing 200 pounds.  This shocked me, but it wasn't the number that triggered me to start moving.  One day I was laying on the couch watching television after work, when I needed to get up I had to grab the sides of the couch and pull myself up.  I felt my weight in my stomach shift and my legs ache a little when I stood up.  I was breathing heavy and a little dizzy, all from getting off the couch.  I was 23 years old.  I knew I had to change.  I was getting married in 6 months and I didn't want all eyes on me like that.  So I joined a gym.

I had some issues with my feet in the beginning so I started on the arc trainer.  I lost a little weight before the wedding but during the summer of 2012 I really stepped my game up.  I randomly decided I wanted to run a half marathon.  I began training on the treadmill.  I vividly remember the fist time I ran 6 miles on the treadmill.  I called Chris because I thought I was not going to be able to drive home I was so out of it.  I followed a training schedule that I found online and I completed my first half marathon on Thanksgiving Day (you will be able to read more about that soon).

The confidence that comes from running and believing in yourself is intoxicating.  I am happier and healthier than ever.  I want to make running a permanent part of my life and not just a phase.  I love running in races and I can't wait for the day when I can take an epic photo with tons of marathon and half marathon medals around my neck.