I completed the 1/12 Iron in July, and as most endurance athletes, I sat down in the winter months and started planning my race schedule for 2018. What would this next year bring? Should I push to a longer distance or focus on strength and speed on distances I already knew I could complete.
In the end, I chose a little of both worlds. I set up three big goals:
1. Run a full marathon (26.2 miles)
2. Do a century ride (100 miles on a bike)
3. Complete another 1/2 Iron without feeling like I was gonna puke the whole last 5K
I sat back, looked at my list and thought, "Wow, Stephanie. You are either fucking awesome... or fucking crazy. Should be interesting to find out...."
Now I just had to choose a race. I wanted a spring race, which I hoped would keep me motivated during the winter. There are several good ones where I live, and I basically had my choice between Cincinnatti, Columbus, or Xenia.
Wait. Did she just say Xenia?
Yep. Home of the Ohio River Road Runners Club 1/2 and full marathon for the last 51 years. FIFTY-ONE YEARS!! And I had never heard of it before. I started asking around amongst my running friends, and pretty soon had my answer as to why I had never heard of it. Many marathons (including the Columbus and Cincinnatti spring ones) are wonderful, huge productions that have everything from full-blown expos to bands at every mile marker.
Not the Xenia marathon. It is a super-low key race with a piece of paper taped on the ground at each mile. No bands, no big towns to run through and get cheered on by strangers. Just you and the road ahead of you.
Now don't get me wrong. It was a very well put-together race. It had all of the basic needs:
- Packet pick-up the day before
- Bib numbers with chips imbedded for timing
- Mile markers
- Water, Gatorade, and porta-potties well placed throughout the course
But some of my fellow teammates were cautious about this being my first race. Didn't I want to be somewhere there was a lot of other runners and more race support?
I took their advice to heart, and I thought hard about it, but in the end decided this was exactly what I wanted. I love big, fun races. But for some reason, this mentally challenging course appealed to me. Remember that part about either being fucking awesome or fucking stupid???
So I trained. Alone. Which is not my most favorite thing to do. Unfortunately, weather in Ohio forces many people to train indoors for months at a time, which is what the majority of my training consisted of. I technically started in December, although I had been running throughout the fall according to my triathlon training plan. That gave me a "leg up", until about mid-January. That's when I had to start doing a long run on the weekends that was 14 miles or longer.
Up until now, 13.1 miles had been the furtherst I had ever run. So hitting that 14 and beyond mark each week was admittedly a little exhilarating. I even did my first 20-mile run on the treadmill.
Twenty miles was the furthest my plan had me running before the race. But I had to do it three times. My second 20-miler was outside on the bike path.
Ummm.....it sucked. Like seriously sucked. No runner's high, no dopamine rush, just a lot of Darky and "What the hell have you gotten yourself into. You are never gonna be able to do ANOTHER HOUR of this on race day".
The next day one of my training partners texted me out of the blue, asking how my marathon training was going. She said she remembered being at the same point of training I was at for her first marathon. She went on to remark how she had been "over" the long runs and was second-guessing ever actually being able to finish. But she also said that those feelings were completely normal and she wound up being just fine on race day and knew I would be too because she believed in me.
Wow. Talk about timing. I'm just glad I was in my office so nobody saw me crying.
So I entered my last big 20-mile training run with a purposeful plan of nothing but positivity. I had placed duct tape over Darky's mouth and locked her in the closet at home. I told myself that I would NOT let anything but positive thoughts get into my head that day.
And it worked. I killed that session. Finished strong and still had gas in the tank. Boom. Bring the fucking awesome.
A few weeks later, the day finally arrived. I was nervous about the cold, as I hadn't run outside much in weather less than 40 degrees.
It was 25 degrees when we started.
My husband drove me to the starting area, and I could tell right away this was going to be different from most other long-distance races I had participated in. There were no cute outfits or tutus amongst the participants. These were serious runners out to do a serious run. As I rounded the first corner in the building where we started, I found one of my mentors and teammate Colleen. We eventually found other members of our team/tribe, as many were doing the half-marathon in prep for the Flying Pig in a few weeks. Colleen asked if she could run with me until the 1/2 marathoers split off and I was thrilled. She helped pace me for the first 8 miles, averaging slightly faster than my goal pace without feeling like I was pushing too hard. She is such a pleasure to run with, always so happy and positive about...well everything that I can honestly say I thouroughly enjoyed the first third of my race. By mile 3 we had passed my mom and teammate Heidi, who had both come out in the FREEZING cold to stand still and be present for my special day. I hugged them both, posed for a pic with mom, and kept putting one foot in front of the other.
Me and Colleen around Mile 3
When the half-marathoners split off, I immediately realized that the rest of this race was going to be completely different. I went from a bike path full of people to being pretty much completely alone for the next 10-11 miles. In other words, I had almost 2 hours of that "mental challenging" that I had so desperately thought I wanted....
Not a lot of people...or anything out here
And so I dug deep, and continued to put one foot in front of the other. We were out in some beautiful country, and the sun was shining. I took in the scenery, (which no joke included a camel at one point), and kept my slow but steady pace even when I wanted to slow down even more. I literally could not feel my lips because they were so cold. I couldn't even pick up the cups of water at one station, because my hand was to frozen to grab it correctly.
But I kept going. Counting my OCD numbers in my head and checking my pace on my watch. Eating my salt tabs, hydrating on schedule (one of my goals for this race was to not get nauseous from dehydration). Slowly, I started to pass people. Not a lot of people mind you, but ones that started far off in the distance and eventually wound up behind me. That helped keep me on track. I had TRAINED for this damn it. And look- mile 20! Anything past this was a distance PR for me! This was going to be fucking awesome!
That euphoria lasted for about another mile and a half. By Mile 22, I was over it. My legs hurt, and I could tell I was not the only one. I continued to slowly pass other marathoners, all of us "shuffling" at this point, unable to bend our legs very well in fear of a cramping. We gave each other nods and smiles of encouragement. The volunteers at the aid stations had gone from screaming, "great job! You can do this!" to quietly just handing out the water and giving us pitful looks and an occasional thumbs up.
In their defense, I'm sure we looked pretty pitiful and primed to possibly bite if they said the wrong thing...
Still all alone. Still cold.
About mile 22, I slowly came up to another female runner. I saw that she was wearing a "70.3" visor and reached out in desperation.
Not literally folks. That would have been weird.
"Which 1/2 iron did you do?" I wheezed.
"Ohio".
"I did that one too last year! It was my first one!"
"Me too!"
And so, in the unwritten rule of race etiquette at the end of a race, we were officially now best friends for the next 4ish miles.
Turns out, we were both running our first full marathons, and had the same time goals. Even better, we were on track to crush that goal as long as we didn't stop. And so we chatted semi-coherently as we shuffled along together towards a sub-5hr finish. I asked if she trained with a tri group, and told her about my amazing teammates and that we would welcome her to any of our training sessions.
I swear I hardly had finished talking about how supportive our team was when I looked up and thought I saw a mirage heading towards me. I squinted and wiped the frozen sweat from my eyebrows (that's not an exaageration...) and realized it wasn't a mirage- it was my teammate Matt.
"Matt!? Is that you?!"
Sure was. He turned around and started running with us, telling us that he had to get a run in anyways that day, and knew that I was the only one running the full marathon from our team today. He had done this race before and knew the mental challenges it (and ANY full marathon) presented, and had told his wife he was gonna mosey out to the Xenia bike path and see if he ran into me...
She kissed him on the cheek and told him to "go do what you do".
Which is save my ass at the end of the race.
Seriously folks. This is now the FOURTH race he has seemingly magically appeared at the exact moment I needed him. He got me up the hill from hell at the Air Force 1/2 marathon a few years ago, he showed up out of nowhere at the finish of my Olympic triatholon and cheered me through the finish when I literally wanted to cry I was so miserable, and his smiling face and loud voice pulled me out of the darkness at Ohio 1/2 Ironman last summer again at the end of a grueling race. And now he literally appears at the last 2-3 miles of my marathon, chatting away about anything and everything to keep my mind off my legs.
I turned to my new best friend Anne and said, "Did I mention that my teammates are awesome?"
Half a mile to go, I fell a blister on my toe pop. Shit shit shit that hurts. Darky giggles on my shoulder. I mentally throat punch her. And so we made that turn that allowed us to see not the actual finish line, but where the place where the finish line would be. Matt asks me if I will have people to cheer me at the finish line. I smile and tell him that actually my husband, son, mom, and teammate Nicole are gonna be there! They are gonna see me do it!! And as the words come out of my mouth, Nicole is there, screaming for me and running alongside me cheering me on. I look up, and see my 14-year old son smiling and waving at me right next to the finish line. Next to him are my husband and mom, clapping and cheering me across.
Oh good. An ambulance.
I'll be honest. The finish line was a blur. My finish line photo was brutally honest.
I forgot to stop my Garmin, but the clock next to the finish line said 4:48 when I looked. So I had made all three of my personal goals, the most important one being not throwing up. I got my picture taken and headed inside where the food was supposed to be.
Now I say supposed to be, because there was none. Nada. Zilch. You know you run slow when all the food is gone when you get done....but I wasn't all that disappointed, as eating right after a long run usually doesn't inspire wonderful outcomes. I grabbed a bottle of water and headed to the car with my family. We pulled in the driveway and the boys got out of the car. Halfway to the house my husband turned around and looked at me funny.
"You getting out of the car?"
"Ummm...yeah. Sure. Maybe. Maybe not. Can you help me?"
My legs were absolute toast for the rest of the day, but by noon on the following day they were pretty much back to baseline. I went and treated myself to a new pair of running shoes, a 26.2 magnet for my car, and ice cream. And then I sat on the couch and thought about what I had learned from this experience. After much thought, I have decided the main theme is that I am thankful.
Thankful for a family that supports my long runs and comes out to support me.
Thankful to be healthy enough to even attempt crazy feats like this.
Thankful for Glide. My fellow runners will understand.
Thankful for my tribe. Without Colleen and Matt, I never would have met all my goals. Having mentors and friends that won't let you quit, support you even when they are not racing, and literally run by your side is a gift I don't take for granted.
What's next you ask? A century bike ride (100 miles) if it ever warms up or isn't raining on a weekend. So stay tuned for the next adventure, which hopefully does not involve me kissing any pavement.
I know, I know. But it's good to have goals.
#26.2InTheBooks #100WithoutLosingSkin
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