A 26.2 of beauty and achievement

Sunday, July 31st.

I was sleeping like a baby without a worry in the world when the clock turned 4:15 and my alarm woke me up. I jumped up and turned it off, letting myself snooze only once today (as opposed to my usual three times). At 4:20, I knew it was time to get up. In the dark, I searched for the neat stack of stuff I had arranged the night before. I felt the Bay Area chill as I got out from under the down comforter and changed into shorts and a t-shirt after applying Body Glide to practically my entire body (I won't over share, but I'll just tell you that after running for hours, your body starts to chafe in places you didn't even know could cause friction).

Emily woke up a few moments later and turned the bedroom light on, making the process easier. We both puttered around in silence, each of us doing our thing (Emily was prepping to run the half), put some layers on, toasted some english muffins, did a quick check for all the things we needed, laced up our shoes, and hopped in the car to meet Dan at the course.

I felt awake, alert, excited, nervous, but not completely aware that this was actually happening, that only five months later I was doing this marathon thing again. Now is not the time to question my sanity, I thought.

As we got downtown, traffic got a little heavier, but I was able to find Dan standing on our arranged meeting corner. Emily wasn't racing for another hour, so we gave each other a giddy hug, wished each other much luck, and said see ya at the finish!

5:10. The race started in "waves" and I was scheduled to start at 5:43. Ok, still have some time. Dan and I checked our bags and went over to the bathroom line. Here we were surprised by a photographer who tried to take a picture of me and the random girl standing next to me in line. Finally, he understood we didn't know each other and snapped a pre-race shot of Dan and I. (Apologies for the watermark, I haven't committed to purchasing any of these yet). So here we are, still a little sleepy, still a little surprised to be photographed in the bathroom line.

Finally, we made it through the line and jogged over to the starting area. I suppose that was our warmup. Dan's wave had already left, but completely unstressed, we both started in my wave, which just meant you were held back from starting for just a few minutes. We pushed our way through people and suddenly, sooner than I expected, it was 5:43 and we were running, running faster, and then we stepped over the starting line and off we went!

My initial idea had been to start with a 3:40 pace group, but since we missed the previous starting wave, we were running close to the 3:50 group. And so we started the classic beginning-of-a-race-weave-through-the-people game... weaving to the left, to the right, past the man running wrapped up in a blanket, past the 3:45 pace group, to the right, past a bakery starting to make some bread and teasing us with its delicious scent, to the left, past the 3:40 group, in, out, around, and finally, we seemed to settle into a comfortable pace. Way ahead of the group I had intended to start with, I looked down at my trusty Garmin watch, and we were running sub- 7:30 min/mile! Holy crap I thought, we need to slow down or I'm going to explode before we get half way. But the surprising part was, it didn't feel that fast, it felt manageable.

So I relaxed and just ran with it. I took a moment to look up past the crowds and remembered where I was. At that moment we were passing past Ghirardelli Square and a wonderful little beach, with the Golden Gate ahead in the distance, behind a light layer of fog. As we passed the beach I stared out towards the water to take in a deep breath of pacific bay air,  and suddenly saw a guy in a wet suit and swim cap pop his head out of the water! Just as I was about to nudge Dan to point out this guy, the swimmer yelled out: "You all are awesomeeeee! Keep it up!" Great way to start the day.

Smiling, I continued on, thinking about how easy it was to breathe, how easy it felt to move through this high-50-degree weather, and how mysterious the Golden Gate looked up ahead. The bridge appeared to be sitting much higher up than where I stood, so I thought, hmmm, the only way to gere there is up...And just then, as we came around a turn, I saw a sign on the course, asking "do you know what the steepest hill in San Francisco is?" This would be the first of many trivia questions along the course. I didn't know the answer, but I sure hoped it wasn't something along the lines of "this hill coming up, suckers!" The next sign read the real answer, telling of the steepest hill and it's % grade, and the sign just behind it read: "Aren't you glad you're running this one instead?" Phew, I thought. And so we hit the first water/electrolyte station of the day in preparation for the first hill of the day. Nothing terrible, a steady incline up and up towards the bridge and suddenly, we were on the majestic red structure, leaving a quiet and sleeping San Francisco behind us.

Here we are, filled with mostly excitement, and moderate awkwardness on my behalf:

On the way out and over the bridge, I had the pleasure of spotting a man in full out Elvis costume (big hair and bellbottoms and all), and another man in Minnie Mouse garb (dress, ears, the whole deal). Impressive.

As we turned around and began to double back across the bridge, it became a wonderful opportunity to people watch and to city watch as the sun tried to come up over the foggy city. Crowds and crowds of people now filled the bridge, as the half marathon had started. I searched the crowds for the entire length of the bridge in search for Emily, but no luck finding her.

As we finally made it off the bridge we headed into the Presidio, an incredibly attractuve park with a few long, steady, not super steep uphills. I felt as though I had been transported somewhere else. The course was quiet at times, there was no sight of the city buildings, no sight of the Golden Gate anymore....just runners making their way together through a forest.

As we wove through the park, the hills began to get to me. Dan and I were still together, still way ahead of pace for my goal of 3:40, but he began to pull ahead on the hills. It became a game of push and pull at the crest of each hill. I knew I wanted to stay with him, I knew he was helping me pace myself, I wanted to stay on that pace. Around mile 12, he pulled ahead and I stayed a ways behind. And then he pulled ahead a bit more, and I stayed a bit farther back.

Dammit, I thought.

Still moving faster than my planned pace, I decided to forget about catching him and instead I settled into my own race. I felt a twinge of fear. I was responsible for my pace now. I could still see Dan up ahead, I was still moving, so I looked around, took note of the people around me and thought, ok, these are my people now.

As an old Brookline cross country coach used to say (and his saying made it onto a moderately inappropriate high school sweatshirt), you have to run "hard but relaxed." He was never my coach, but I never forgot the line. So I did. I took in a deep breath and let my shoulders drop, my fingers unclench, my eyes relax, and made myself more comfortable in my own stance. 

I realized that I was now running next to a woman called Faye (her bib told me so, she did not seem like the kind of person who was eager to exchange pleasantries during the race) and stayed close to her for quite some time.

The thing is, as I've said before, the marathon becomes a mental game as much as a physical one. It's not just, can my legs do it? It's also the feeling of being supported, almost being held accountable by someone for what you're doing, that really keeps you moving. When I was running next to Dan, I knew I had to stay next to him. When he pulled away, I was alone. There is nothing worse than being in a park you don't know, when you're in pain, alone, right? So I felt this need, an urge, perhaps, to have some kind of support. And so while Faye never spoke to me, and she may never know that she helped me, she did. Because for many miles, almost the entire back half of the race, I could feel her close to me, just ahead, just behind, just next to me, as if she were my running buddy to keep me going. Maybe it sounds bizarre, but it's even more bizarre how your brain reacts when you test it in such a physically taxing situation.

So here I was, out of the Presidio, now running through Golden Gate Park. I passed the brightly-colored flowers outside Cnservatory of Flowers, Stowe Lake, the Japanese Tea Garden. And then, the finish line for the half marathon. This was probably the most demoralizing moment of the day, when the course split into two chutes, one for the half marathoners to finish, and one for the full marathoners to carry on. I enviously stared at finishers with their blankets, bananas, and medals, celebrating, staring at the rest of us run by to do the entire distance we had just done.... all over again. For a few moments, I felt my energy level drop. I wanted to celebrate. I wanted to stand there and chug an entire water bottle, rather than taking a sip out of a cup and spilling the rest all over my face (this actually happened at about every single water stop, including the one where i managed to get gatorade in my eye and be blinding for a few steps).

But then I remembered why I was here, what I ran for hours in the Texas heat for, why I was signed up for the longer race. I decided I had to cut the crap and pull it back together. So I picked my pace back up, and next thing I knew, I was out of the park, past the 20 mile mark, into the Mission neighborhood, ready to start the final push.

Around mile 22 I hit the biggest downhill of the day. Now I know you probably think, great, a downhill! And that was indeed my first thought. But then I started to make the descent and picked up some speed, and some more speed, and some more, and the next thing I knew I was running so fast I didn't think I'd be able to stop myself, but most importantly, I didn't think my legs would be able to turn around so quickly and hold me up anymore. I zoomed past other runners on the downhill, my heart pumping, adrenaline rushing, pure focus on the bottom of the hill, overwhelmed by how my legs were managing to do this right now. I pictured myself lying on my side, arms and legs stretched out, and rolling all the way down, like a kid on a grassy slope. However, I didn't think that would fly here.

Finally, I hit the bottom, still standing on my two 'ol legs. Phew. After I set back into my pace, I felt amazingly better than I expected to at this point in the race. I was still trucking ahead of pace, and suddenly it hit me, holy crap, I'm about to qualify. If I keep this pace up, I am going to qualify. I was overcome by joy and anxiety at the same time. The little devil on my one shoulder started to think, what if you cramp up right now and fall and have to slow down? But the little angel on my other shoulder thought, I've felt better than I ever have in my life during a long run, why would this feeling just go away now? Lets do this.

As I hit mile 23, I was ready to be done. I was ready to be there. I wanted to say eff this, but for a few miles, I was able to turn off my brain and put my legs in cruise control to haul myself the rest of the way. By mile 25, it seemed like it had just taken me forever to run 2 miles. My legs wanted to quit. I needed an extra boost. I thought, c'mmon arms, be useful for once in your life! So they started pumping, giving my body a little extra oompf that it needed. I pictured someone running behind me giving me a nudge forward.

I came around a turn and saw the Bay Bridge. I knew we had started just on the other side of it, and we would finish just on the other side of it, so I thought ok, just have to get to the bridge. Stride after stride, the bridge did not seem to be getting any closer. Neither did the Mile 26 marker. I found myself trying to peek around each turn, thinking, are we there yet?

Finally I saw it, 26 miles. Alright, this is it, point two, POINT TWO, that is absolutely nothing. So naturally, it was the longest point two miles of my life. I eagerly searched for the finish line, where is ittttttttt. I was cruising at a rate that would get me there in under 3:35. This is not real, I thought. This isn't happening.

Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, I spotted it. The finish line. I turned off my ipod; I wanted to hear crowds, I NEEDED to hear crowds.

My legs were spent, my arms were spent, I wanted to cry and smile at the same time. My body wanted nothing more than to stop immediately and curl into the fetal position. But more than that, I wanted to take that last step across the line. I looked at my watch 3:32....holy crap, this is happening. I picked it up to what felt like the fastest sprint of my life (but of course was not), an leapt across the line.

3:33.22. Seven minutes to spare!? Did this just happen? My old buddy Faye came across the line moments after I had managed to catch my breath. We didn't exchange any words, but just looked at each other and smiled. She gave me a head nod and I smiled again. Classic.

I hobbled through the finish chute, and headed straight for the wonderful man handing out water. I grabbed one, and greedily asked for another, fumbled both of them, and dropped both of them just in time to have the photographer catch me. He laughed and said, "shall we try that again?" I smiled back, and said sure, as long as he didn't publish the first one online (Which he actually did, but I won't embarrass myself by showing making it public). 

I kept walking and had a space blanket wrapped around my body. I hadn't realized how cold I suddenly felt until it radiated heat through my body. Mmm.

I kept walking and was handed more food that I could hold.

I kept walking, and had a medal placed around my neck.

I felt so pampered, so dazed. I finally made my way out of the chute, and since Dan was nowhere in sight, I made my way to the finisher's Beer Garden, our initial meeting spot. I mean, you know me, how can I say no to free beer? They poured me a wonderfully chilled Sierra Nevada, and I plopped down on the ground with it. Here, I befriended two dudes, one from San Francisco and one from Canada, who kept me entertained for about half an hour, before I realized I should probably go find my people.

So I peeled myself off the ground like a crotchety old lady and wobbled over to our second designated meeting spot with Dan. There he was, sitting on a corner, relaxing. We smiled and hugged, he had finished just 2 minutes before me, and beating his previous marathon time by 5 minutes. Congrats to Dan! Shortly after, we met Emily(who finished her half and beat her previous time, congrats!) and her wonderful sister Eleni who had come all the way from Chicago just to support us. She even made a wonderful shirt for Emily and I, with a most ridiculous picture of the two of us Argentina.  

Here we are, all smiles for the three finishers:

 All smiles with Eleni (note ridiculous yet wonderful shirt):

 And exhausted, doing a whole lot of sitting back at home:

So here's to a day of successes. To 26.2 miles of San Francisco beauty. To a huge accomplishment. To achieving a goal I used to think was unreachable. To incredible soreness with a purpose. 

Cheers, and hope to see you at Copley Square next April!

The Odyssey to San Francisco

Saturday, July 30th.

I left Austin surprisingly full of energy, considering the early wake up call to catch an 8 a.m. flight. It was the first time in weeks that I didn't quite seem to mind being up before the sun. I hopped into the passenger's seat of my own car, something that doesn't happen very often, and left the driving up to a much-less-lively Booth. We set off to scoop up my running pal, Dan, and headed off to the airport, boarding pass in hand for a non-stop flight to San Fran.

Security. Check.
Boarding. Check.
Getting awkwardly identified as a runner by a random passenger. Check.
Taxiing. Check.
Cleared for takeoff. Check.

Waiting on the runway, waiting on the runway, nothing's happening, nothing's happening, people look pissed, . Pilot comes on the loudspeaker with news of a faulty smoke detector. Being an important piece of equipment, we turn around and head back to the gate to get it fixed. They tell us it should be a quick 5 minute fix.

Fifteen minutes later, it's still going to be a 5 minute fix.

Half an hour later, they are trying a new approach that should take 5 minutes or so.

An hour later, I've napped, woken up, found that we are still at the gate, and assume it will be at least another undefined period of 5 minutes before we take off.

Two hours later we de-plane, given that, as it turns out, five minutes x infinity will apparently not equal a fixed a smoke detector.

Meanwhile, I had been chatting to my row neighbor. He was a man in his late 50's or so who was traveling to San Francisco to visit his daughter. As soon as it had become apparent that we would not be leaving Austin any time soon, he made sure to tell me about how crappy jetBlue had been lately as far as getting him to places on time, and how he wanted them to stop giving him travel vouchers because he'd rather just fly a different airline. Touché, sir. His wife, even more exasperated than the man himself, sat angrily on the other side of our row, and made no eye contact whatsoever. (*Note: keep this couple in mind as they will be relevant later)

So I drag my feet off the plane, much less giddy, much less enthusiasti, much lower energy than when I left my apartment and plop down in a new chair. After waiting around, getting a snack, running into a salsa student while achieving said snack, we are told we need to wait for a new plane to come in from Fort Lauderdale in 2 hours so that we can take that plane and head out to Cali. Ho hum.

So there we were, Dan and I, chatting away, waiting for two hours to go by, when we saw a man with a sandwich. Now, this wasn't just any old sandwich. This was a Thundercloud wich... probably one of the tastiest and cheapest (so by definition, greatest) sub shops in Austin. We immediately looked at each other and wondered, is there really a Thundercloud at the airport? Or did the man bring in the wich from the outside world? Is he teasing us? Or is this the real life? Tempted to asked, but ashamed to be so excited about a sub, we wandered off on a Thunder-Mission. I mean, what else were we going to do for another hour?

I'll tell you, Austin-Bergstrom airport is not what you'd call LARGE, so after walking down rows and rows of restaurants, I legan to feel a bit demoralized and offended by incosiderate man who decided it was appropriate to aunt others with his lunch products. But in the midst of my self-pity .... I spied a lightning bolt! Could it be!? Ah, the classic logo, yes, it was true: Thunder, thunder, thuuuuuunder cloud!

After rejoicing with the sight and taste of a great wich, we headed back to the gate, and moments later, began to board our new plane.

Wooooo, send it around again! In a serious case of deja-vu, we re boarded, I got re-greeted by the random passenger who identified me as a runner traveling for the marathon, re-seated next to my angry row companion, re-taxied, and finally, this time around got cleared for take off!

After four hours of puzzles and girly movies, we descended into the wonderfully sunny and pleasantly 60-degree bay area. We got off the plane at long last and as we were walking down the hallway in search for the exit, *crraaaack....SNAP....plop* My 8-year-old Adidas duffel bag lost it's strap and plummeted to the floor. My initial reaction was to be pissed, bothered. But then I thought, I've been trying to get to this wonderful city for over 6 hours, now I'm here, I don't give a crap about my bag! So I picked it up by the handles and moved on.

Dan and I finally made it out of the airport, and were greeted by my most excellent friend Emily.

Emily and I were two Brookline High School grads who managed to go for four years at the same school knowing many of the same people without ever crossing each other's paths. That is of course until we were fortunate enough to make the same decision to volunteer in Chile at the same time, and became roommates in the world's smallest apartment with our goofy 19-year-old british roommate Jack. And well, after months of living in close quarters (literally, our beds were about 2 feet apart from each other and our door didn't open all the way because the room was so small), surviving an earthquake, a robbery, panic attacks, camping trips, happy moments, sad moments, arguments and laughter, you can say we passed the test of friendship.

So here I was, getting picked up by one of my favorite people, in one of my favorite cities, about to run a heck of a lot....JetBlue and a broken bag had nothing on me. I was a happy camper.

And so we found each other, piled into the car, and the three of us headed to the somewhat overwhelming but not that impressive marathon expo to pick up our race packets.

After an evening of meeting Emily's wonderful sister who came down just to support our running (more to come about her later), spending time lounging at a park nearby, chatting, catching up, and coming home for an early pasta dinner followed by an early bedtime, the nervousness began to set in.

I carefully laid out my shoes, socks, clothes, watch, iphone, race snacks, and bib number. Shit, I'm really doing this tomorrow.

I set my alarm for 4:15 a.m. and hit the pillow.