A little over a week ago, in a state of very high teenage angst, I ran the Queen City Marathon for the third time. Before you even think about it, I ran the half. People consistently asked me throughout my training if I was running the half or the full. I always react in appropriately to this question. I scoff and laugh and say, do I look like I'm running the full? I seem to think that everyone looks at my height and stride, and assumes I'm running the half. This is poor reasoning, however, because a girl I know ran the full this year and finished first in her age category. She is at least three inches shorter than I am. So.
If you read this post from earlier in the year, you'll know a great deal of preparation went into the decision to run this marathon. Last year was rough, and while I knew the reason for that was a distinct lack of training, I wasn't sure I could even stick to a reasonable training plan.
WRONG! I totally did it. I ran over a hundred and fifty miles (not kilometers (!)) in training and going into the day, felt outrageously prepared. And I was.
The first eight miles were amazing. I ran so fast. So. Fast. It was so awesome. The first two songs that played on my QCM 2014 Playlist were N'Sync "It's Gonna Be Me," and NKOTB's "Step By Step." Furthering the awesome.
I have supernatural abilities to predict the future. Apparently.
The sun came out in full force, just in time to eat me alive and ruin all hopes of finishing well.
This, as my third race, has formed into somewhat of a tradition. My sister comes with me to the race, I get mad at her because I'm so anxious, we fight a little, we laugh at how ridiculous it is that we do this, then I start running and she goes to Starbucks. A couple hours later, she makes her way back and waits for me to finish. She loves it; more than I do. It's weird.
My best friend Karlie meets me at the finish too. The first year I ran, she was a surprise. I was running to the finish and she was calling at me holding her screaming six month old. Its the best and funniest picture.
So we did it again the next year. Paisley wasn't crying, but she wasn't super into the proceedings. She laughed at my fatigue.
This year, Karlie had a meeting at 11.30. I thought this meeting was at 11. So around Mile 11 (that time stamp is incorrect), I was pretty sure I wasn't going to make it back in time. I was wilting under the weight of the sun and it's horrendous sensory impact. I realized I wouldn't get to take my picture with Paisley, and new to the scene this year, Vivian. At this realization, I started sobbing. You should know, that probably 90% of the participants on the course, are super caring. So there were a number of people, upon hearing my sobs, that stopped to make sure I wasn't running on a broken leg. If I had told them, I probably would have laughed. I texted Beth to tell her I was sobbing and why and she didn't respond. I realize now it was a little irrational. Karlie texted me to smarten up and finish. She would be there.
This is Vivi. She appreciated the presence of grass.
. . . on the ground. I kept it.
Paisley running with me to the end was actually super hilarious. She was so into it, laughing and hopping along; at the beginning. It was a hundred yards to the actual finish line, which is a lot for such tiny legs. I picked her up and carried her across and had them place my medal around her neck. I thought she would like that, but she was overwhelmed by all that is the finish line, so she did not. Hahaha. Paisley, we will continue to do this, and one year we will get a legit and ideal picture.
I went home and laid in bed. I had heat stroke. You know that feeling when you can feel your body radiating heat, but all you want is to be warmer? It was so brutal. I kept falling in and out of recovery sleep, which btw is the worst nap ever. I drank three liters of water. I didn't go to work the next day. FEEL SORRY FOR ME!!!
But seriously, let's go back to my Mile Seven tweet. I felt so good. My body felt so good. I was so prepared. I just couldn't control the elements. So I knew, even as I was sobbing, I was going to do this again; and hope for rain.
PLUS! Next year is the 15th anniversary. That means extra awesome t-shirts! Probably.