Monday morning came early. However, with the time change, at least there was daylight! We decided to leave around 6:30 am. I got up and got dressed, put the skirt on, (I ran in a Nike skirt this year!) and packed up my bag.
(Before the race at Lisa's place)
We headed to Dunkin Donuts to “fuel up.” I ordered my standard coffee and a bagel. Lis and Eric drove me down to the Boston Commons, where I was scheduled to meet my running friend Mark Earhard from Atlanta at 7:15 am. The bus area was WAY more crazy than I remember it being last year. There were runners and LONG lines everywhere. I pretty much instantly thought there was no way I was going to find Mark. Five minutes later, I saw him and Fran and we hopped in line! Now, I just love Mark and Fran. They are two of the finest people Eric and I have met through Galloway and marathon training. So meeting up with them was a real treat for me. When we got close to the busses, Fran said goodbye and Mark and I caught the bus to Hopkinton. We had great conversations along the way, which was quite relaxing and I was finally able to eat. I drank my entire medium coffee and downed one Gatorade. So far, fueling up was going well! We got off the interstate onto some other highway towards Hopkinton, and all the sudden, the never-ending line of busses stopped completely. People started jumping off the bus and peeing in the woods. I said, “wow, they must really be desperate. Jheesh.” 20 minutes later, I was desperate. 20 minutes after that, I was downright panicky. It was a white-knuckle express. I realized along the way, that very much like childbirth, there are various stages of modesty. It starts with, “I could NEVER do that,” and ends with… well, read on and see. Right when I was ready to throw modesty out the window and head to the woods, the busses started to move and I would have been left behind. So I rode the bus. And focused on breathing. And gripped the seat in front of me with my head between my arms. And didn’t say a word. Finally, finally, finally, we reached the drop-off at Athlete’s Village. I gave Mark my bag and headed straight for the woods. Nobody, not even the “Authorities” that were all over the place, were going to stop me. There was no way I was going to even make it to the porta-potties, let alone wait in that ridiculous line. As Annie says, “When ya gotta go, ya gotta go.” So I went. Not my proudest moment. That whole bus ride did take my mind off the race, though. Mark and I headed into Athlete’s Village and by the time we got there after the bus fiasco, decided to just hop into line at the porta-potties knowing we’d have to go again soon. We didn’t have much time before we had to head to the start! After taking our turns at the potty, we found a spot under a huge tent and got our race gear on. Mark wanted to potty one more time and I was ready to go, so we wished each other luck and made our separate ways. I missed my start last year and didn’t want to miss it again. I headed straight to baggage claim and handed over my bag. On my way out of Athlete’s Village, there was and adidas table with name tags for your shirt, about 4” x 8”. I wrote my name on one and plastered it across my chest. This was really going to come in handy during the race! I made my way to my starting Corral, which was #14, the first corral of Wave 2. The walk became very congested so another runner that I’d met along the way and I started running up the sides of the road and on the lawns. I got to my starting corral 2 minutes before the race began, and listened to two motivational messages from Mom. I felt really bad that I missed her calls. I didn’t have time to call her that morning, due to the white knuckle express bus ride, then the craziness of Athlete’s Village. Unlike years past, there was no sitting around on blankets all morning, due to the bus traffic issue. Most of our wait time was on the bus, and a good chunk of that time I wasn’t speaking, or should I say, wasn’t able to speak. I tucked my phone away and the gun went off. I always get teary-eyed at the start of that race. It’s such a monumentous event for me. All the training, all the prep, all my family and friends coming together for me to make this great trip happen. I settled into a good pace and started to run! What a beautiful day. The sun was shining and it was warming up. I was actually hoping for “overcast,” which the forecast called for. Sun is not a marathoner’s friend. The race course was lined with tons and tons of spectators. Miles 1-3 were fun and uneventful! Around mile 3, I heard the sound of a porta-potty door slamming, looked right, saw the green light, and decided that I might as well “go” while I can! So I took a few seconds for that. At least I was well-hydrated to start. About mile 4, every time I took in Gatorade, my stomach started cramping. It was very painful, but I convinced myself that the stomach is not attached to the legs, so why should this slow me down? The pain would slowly subside to a manageable level the farther I got from the water stops, but I knew I had to “fuel or crash,” so every water stop I took either Gatorade or water and forced it down, much to my tummy’s dismay. My pace continued to be right on for a 3:30, and my legs were feeling good. People were cheering for me all over the place, b/c I was one of the only runners wearing my name! Honestly, I heard my name thousands of times. It was awesome. I felt like a local celebrity! It was almost embarrassing, really. I made it to Wellesley and as usual, the college girls were in rare form. Their screams were deafening and I loved every minute of it. I saw some girls holding signs offering “Free Kisses.” I passed on that and kept moving. Made it to the half in 1:44, so I was happy with that! Being that it was the half-way point, and I didn’t take in any energy yet, I decided to try my Sport Beans. These are like jelly beans but packed with electrolytes and energy for endurance runs. I usually do gels on the run, but have been experimenting with these beans, and have had no issues. I could only get down half the beans over a several minute stretch and water stop. My stomach was in severe distress over anything coming in, especially solids. I kept trucking, wondering when my blood sugar would bottom out. The race course was very enjoyable this year. Every small town that we passed was loaded with spectators, both sides of the street. Everyone was out that day, it seemed. After all, it is Patriot’s Day, a state holiday in MA. Eric and I had made plans for him to join me at the 17 mile marker. The plan was to have him run with me to 22.5 miles, where Lisa lives in Cleveland Circle. I got near the 17 mile marker and it was very crowded. At some points, you couldn’t even get on the street due to the barriers that police installed. Luckily though, right at the 17, Eric was there and ready to run.
(Lots of fun happenin' at 17 miles!)
Mile 17 is around where the fun really begins, in Newton. The Hills of Newton. I wasn’t talkative (only a few words), but I’d warned him about this before the race. I let him know that I wouldn’t be talking, but to please know how much it means to me to have him there by my side. Marathoning is a head game for me. Me vs. me. It requires total focus for me to stay on task, constantly looking inward to evaluate how I feel moment to moment and how I’m handling the pace. I was all about business. Things in Newton didn’t seem too bad at first. Then we got to the hills. We actually kept a nice, pretty steady pace through the hills. Lost several seconds on the Heartbreak Hill mile, but my pace bracelet, made by Nike, accounted for that hill so I was still pretty much on target for 3:30. After the Newton Hills, my wheels started coming off. We got to BC around 21-22, and the college crowd was WILD. They were cheering us on bigtime. The guys would get going with, “CA-RYN…CA-RYN…” It was amazing and gave me just the extra oomph I needed. Of course, every few seconds, Eric was spouting out words of encouragement, which I desperately needed. We missed Lisa and our other friends in Cleveland Circle. Big Bummer. I knew they were out there, though, and could feel the vibes so we kept truckin’.
(Lance runs the marathon)
Eric decided to keep running and I was so glad because I needed him. With him there, I knew I couldn’t just give up and give into my body, whose every cell was pleading with me to STOP! Mile 23, mile 24, oh my god. I was not really feeling like the wall, just feeling like I had no energy. Not surprising given my fueling regimen/stomach issue. I HAD no fuel. I just wanted to pull over and close my eyes. Eric reminded me that “pain is temporary, pride is forever” and we forged on. He basically kind of ran in front of me the whole time, with what I felt was an invisible leash. I really wanted to be pulled along! I saw the Citgo sign. Right underneath it is “One Mile to Go.” However, you see the Citgo sign FOREVER before you get to it. I decided not to look up anymore. Didn’t want to see it until I was under it. We got to the “One Mile To Go” and I felt very relieved, and knew I could somehow get to the finish. I mean, what’s one mile? It was the longest mile. I could no longer really hold up my upper body and I felt hunched over like I should be 92, not 32. Then the turn onto Hereford. Hereford seemed to last forever. Then onto what they call “The Sweetest Left Turn in the World…” the turn onto Boylston Street for the finish! YES! There was the finish line, in all its glory. It was so incredibly far away. My eyes were closing. I wanted it to be over. I felt bad for wanting it to be over, because this was the final, home stretch of the greatest marathon in the world and I just wanted it over. The crowd was roaring and I inched my way along, only looking up a few times for fear that the distance to the finish would overwhelm me. The Finish. Finally we crossed. Stopped my watch at 3:34:03, a PR. I closed my eyes. Eric grabbed my left hand and a medical lady with blue gloves grabbed my right. We headed right into the medical tent. They said, “take her to 17.” I’d open my eyes only to check the section number. I needed to lay down. There’s 12. 17 can’t be too far away. Eyes closed again. Open them. There’s 17. There is my cot. Thank god. I’m laying down. They’re asking me questions. I just want to sleep. I know my name and I know my husband is outside the medical tent worried, but I’m too tired to get up. I closed my eyes for about 20 minutes. I was delirious, and saying to the doctor, “I feel so irresponsible. I can’t believe I did this.” I’m thinking, “What am I thinking? I have two children at home. This is stupid.” After a short while, I heard my name over the loudspeaker. Eric was worried and wanted to know how I was… I woke up, and told the medical staff to tell Eric I’m fine and I’d be out soon. I was given my medal in the medical tent, which was a downer. I reunited with Eric outside and we made our way to the baggage busses, got my stuff, and made our way to the train. Eric ended up running the last 9 miles with me, and I sure did need him there. Thanks for you support, Love.
(The night of the race in my new jacket)
The Aftermath
I felt pretty ok after we got to Lisa’s. Actually, better than I’ve felt after a lot of marathons. We showered up, watched the TiVo’ed marathon, which was an incredible finish, especially in the women’s race this year. Closest finish in marathon history! First and Second place women were 2 seconds apart. We headed out for dinner across the street at Cityside. I didn’t feel like eating anything, but Lis and Eric convinced me to eat something. I ordered fish and chips and ate almost everything! My tummy did hurt, though. My legs felt ok. My entire abdomen was in pain. I was thinking it was my ab muscles, so much for the core workouts. At times, most of the time, I felt like an 8 out of 10 on the pain scale. OK, maybe 7. When I sneezed (cat allergy), 10/10. I couldn’t sleep because the pain was so bad. When I lay on my back, the pressure of my abdomen ON my abdomen was too much. When I lay on my side, everything would slump and that hurt like crazy, too. On the plane the next morning as I sat in my seat, I realized it was not my ab muscles, but my insides. When I pushed, they hurt. They hurt everywhere, and I was instantly scared. I decided to go to urgent care that night, after trying to take a nap and again being in too much pain to really get comfortable and sleep. They drew some blood and did a urine test, and that’s about it. I was very unhappy that I’d wasted my time there. Later on, my creatinine enzyme reading was 608 and anything under 200 is considered normal. They did think the 608 was fine, though, give my effort the day before. No worries there. I then went to see my GI doctor, who was also baffled. She sent me in for an ultrasound and I’m waiting on the results. I ran the Saturday after the race, down to the lake and one lap around, just long enough to know that I wasn’t ready to run yet. By Monday I did a 6-miler and felt good. Two weeks later, my stomach does feel better. I’m finally feeling back to normal (I think). I did survive a 10 mile run on Saturday, my longest since the marathon. I’m going to hope beyond hope that this never happens again, and change a few fueling issues around before my next race.
Thank Yous
A special, special thank you goes out to my mother-in-law, Barb, who drove all the way from KY by herself and took time off from work so that Eric and I could make our journey to Boston together. She did a fantastic job with the children.
They had such a great time with Grandma, and it was priceless for Eric and I to know that they were in such good hands. We were worry-free on our kids-free weekend! Thank you Barb, we love you! Special props to Lisa, Kevin, and Jen for being so hospitable over the weekend and making our trip to Boston such a wonderful experience. Thanks to my family for your continuous support of my running, and your recognition of my need to run. Love you all!
Gotta Run,
Caryn
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