Anyone who knows me at all, knows that my Portland Marathon experience was less than perfect. I have no excuses...no injuries, no bowel issues, no weather problems. It could have been perfect. But at the end of the day, and now that a week has gone by, I've realized that it just simply wasn't my day.
The night before the race, my mom told me to just go out there and do my best and if I didn't make my goal time then she didn't want me to cry. I quickly assured her that she didn't need to worry, but I would DEFINITELY cry if the race didn't go well.
Running a marathon is so much more than just showing up for the race itself. There is so much time that goes into training...countless mornings that I had to get up at the crack of dawn so that I could beat the heat for a long run when all I really wanted to do was push the snooze button and go back to sleep. I also had to plan every little detail...what I would wear, what I would eat and drink, where I was going to stay, who was going to watch the girls because Coron had to work, how I was going to get to the start line, etc. And then there are the numbers...how fast did I need to run every single mile to get me to the finish line in 3 hours and 45 minutes; at which miles did I need to drink water; at which miles did I need to have some fuel; how many hours and minutes would I be into the race when I hit the dreaded St. John's hill so that I could have my iPod synced perfectly to play a song that would get me moving. Ahhhh...the numbers.
At mile 7, I accidentally stopped my watch when I took my long sleeved shirt off. I didn't realize it for about a mile. I had no idea what my time was at that point. That was the beginning of the end for me. It was shortly after that when I realized that this was not going to be my day. Honestly, I considered quitting. If I had been carrying my cell phone, I might have called Heidi and my mom and told them to come pick me up. If I wasn't got to BQ, or even set a PR, I just didn't see the point in finishing. But I knew that wasn't an option for me...I was NOT a quitter. My new mantra became...
"Run when you can, walk when you have to, crawl if you must; just never give up."
~Dean Karnazes
Did I finish the race? Yes. Did I qualify for Boston? No. Did I set a new PR? No. Did I finish the race with a respectable time? Yes. Was I happy? No. Did I cry? Yes. Although I tried my best to make my mom feel better by waiting until I was on my way home to Chelan. I cried A LOT! I cried a lot of the way home and then I cried the rest of the night after I got home. When I woke up the next morning, my eyes were swollen, but I put on my race finisher shirt and took Ella to school. I didn't have time to drown in my sorrows. Life was going on and I needed to get over it.
On Wednesday night, I was reading my much loved new issue of Runner's World. There was an article about actor Anthony Edwards (aka Goose from Top Gun or Dr. Green from ER). In the article, RW quoted him as saying, "Running isn't about winning and losing, but the experience of it". It was then that I realized that I had lost sight of why I started running in the first place. I love to run. I love everything about it. But at some point, I got way too caught up in all the numbers and it wasn't fun anymore. The fact that I ended up in the medical tent at the finish line of the marathon with anxiety induced chest pains is probably a huge indicator that I need to freakin' chill out a bit.
So...I've run 3 times since the marathon and every single one of those runs has been great. The weather has been gorgeous and I've been listening to my new tunes. It's been fun and that's what I need right now. There will definitely be more marathons in my future, no doubt about it, but for now I'm just going to run.
~J
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