"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.
During
The hardware
