This was it. The one day that I trained 4 months to get to. Here is my detailed account starting from the night before.
The night before...
We checked into the Marriott in the Rec Cen in early evening. Laura and I had our nerves as about as high as they could be. I've been nervous about big events before, but never like this. Later in the night as I lay in the dark listening to the breathing going on in the room, I compared it too what the night before a battle would feel like. This was a tired exaggeration of course. We went out and got dinner with some friends in the city and headed off to the expo at Cobo to get our bibs and our annual race photo together. We went back to the hotel and after some complications finally got to bed at 11:30PM. I was nervous about not getting enough sleep because I work midnights, so I woke up early the day before to accommodate. I fell asleep right away.
2:30 the day of...
I woke up to frost on the glass window overlooking the entire city. I could tell it would be getting colder and this would be a rough start. I closed my eyes, but found nothing but my racing mind. There were a lot of things going through my head. I was injured so badly that I didn't run for 13 days prior. I hadn't run for 13 days prior, so that scared me too. Maybe I had gotten out of shape. This race was six miles longer than my longest and most miserable run in my life. Maybe the worst was the fear that I would fight this battle and give all that I had and it would still not be enough. My last run was an eight miler after work that I felt knee pain at mile three. I had nothing but failure in my head. I didn't fall asleep again.
5:30 AM...
I got up and dressed quietly, trying not to wake my children or their aunt who was so awesome to bring them to cheer us on. Laura and I were still just nerves. We bickered a bit and let the anxiety set in a little more. I looked out at the city that slept through the frosted window and decided to allow myself to let go. I wasn't going to be afraid from this moment further.
7:00 AM...
The gun. The music. The crowd. The horns. The shouting. We found our friends and exchanged hugs and handshakes. All acknowledging the work it took us all to get here. There isn't a lot of things that could get you closer to another person than experiencing misery running under the hot sun together. Me and Brian (my training partner and good friend) have done this before, but never to this magnitude. When we crossed the start, I felt like sprinting.
Mile 3ish...
We were about to get on the bridge to Canada and I already felt my left knee stabbing me and my hip aching. Mentally, I still wanted to sprint and from now and for the next bunch of miles, Brian would have to keep pulling my pace back. My anxiety made me want to get the race done with. I turned my watch to just the time so I could listen to my body and stop obsessing over information. The bridge uphill wasn't difficult at all. It's my favorite part of the race. The downhill hurt my knee and hip badly and heading into Canada was when my doubt started.
Mile 7ish...
We entered the tunnel at a faster pace than we had planned for. I had pushed the pace I think and on the initial downhill, I was almost sprinting. I'm not sure why, but I suspect my anxiety was still present. We got through the uphill and out of the tunnel (the world's only underwater mile) and into the cold air again. By this time I had shed all of my throw away outer wear. I was in race mode now and my mind was allowing me to settle in for the long haul. I had done this distance before and after the tunnel is the home stretch in a half, so I knew that this was almost half way and going to be a long race. It was nice to see the crowd support on the other side of the border. We were doing very well at this point. I had pain, but I thought maybe I could endure it.
Mile 11ish...
We were running though Mexican Village when I doubted I could finish. The knee was the biggest issue. Every step was a knife into my flesh. I thought several times that I should just veer off when the half marathoners separated from the full. This persisted.
Mile 13.1...
I stayed the course because no one claims victory when they have given up. Four months of training brought me here, so a couple more hours was worth the pain. After the half mark, the crowd dispersed and the terrain got ugly. There is no one on this stretch of the race for 2-3 miles. I had a preview of this portion from the RunDetroit 18 mile training run. I didn't like it then and I wasn't to like it now. I ran it fast however. I felt the pain, but I thought about the people that got me here...the people I wrote about in my last blog. At mile 14ish, I saw TJ, my dear friend, who had come to cheer his friends on. He was in the right place as this was an under-cheered section of the course. He ran about a tenth with me, asking if I needed anything at all. I told him it hurt everywhere, but I was ok. Honestly, this was the push I needed. I stopped feeling much pain and pushed on at a good pace through Indian Village and into the dreaded "Wall."
Mile 20ish...
I told Brian on Belle Ile to go for it. Our plan was to run a steady 9:30ish pace, then give it our best for the last six miles and end up with sub-4hr times. I was limping at this point and I knew I couldn't hit sub-4. He looked strong, so I told him to leave me. He looked back a couple of times to see where I was, but I looked away from him. He is a great guy and I didn't want him to feel the need to stick with me. He was on target and I was an anchor now. My pace was slowing and I was beginning to gallup. I wanted him to give the best he had.
Mile 22ish...
Finally off of Belle Ile and feeling terrible. People were dropping like flies on the bridge back to the city. The crowd support began to grow and people were handing out love like it was Woodstock. TJ met me there again. I knew I looked bad by looking at him. He ran another 10th with me, telling me things that would push me forward. His help could not have been bought. People were looking at my green bib, knowing it meant it was my first marathon and giving me special attention and encouragement. It worked to keep me moving, but my legs were all done. I tried to do some butt kicks to stretch the knee without stopping, but the butt kicks led to hamstring cramps. I decided to take the path of least resistance. I would move slowly but always forward without stopping.
Mile 25ish...
I had been waiting so see my children the entire race. I thought of Will and of my wife and how she hugged me in the middle of the street on Christmas 2009, knowing I was lost. I thought of all of the things that made me want to bring myself to this exhaustion. I pushed forward slowly. At this point I was barely moving, but I wasn't going to quit and I wasn't going to let my body tell me that I couldn't do it. I saw my kids with their aunt Kelley at mile 25.5 when they screamed my name. I was in a different world, so they had to shout a lot for me to notice. I touched their hands with mine and kept going. If I had stopped for any longer I would have broken down sobbing. I had to move forward.
Twenty-six point two...
I turned the corner and finally saw the finish line. I held back emotion so I could keep moving. The crowd was loud and I heard the cowbells and shouting. I heard everyone I loved shouting for me in my head. In my life, I haven't had it easy. I've had to just move forward, inch by inch. One step in front of another. I had achieved what the majority of people in my life thought was impossible for me. Now I had achieved what 0.5% of Americans have done. I crossed the finish line running twenty-six point two miles. I wanted to break down, but I needed to move forward and see if Brian had done it. He fell just short by 6 minutes. We embraced and were happy. We had both left all that we had on that pavement.
5 days later...
I waited to write this because I wanted to have an objective assessment of the race and of my plans. At first and for the next few days, I vowed to never run a marathon again. I said it wasn't my race. One of my legs is shorter than the other and I am at a disadvantage. After a few days to get pissed at not reaching my goal by 21 minutes, I have decided that I can't let it go. This is a race that I must run again and be happy with. While I do feel accomplished and I know I was injured going in, I still feel like I am so much better than I performed. This was probably why they tell you that your first marathon should be focused just on finishing. Well the next marathon, I will take what I have learned and run smarter, eat better, and be faster than the last.
This isn't the end of this blog. I will be documenting my running journey and life as it relates often. I would love for you to join me.
Sing.
Migrate.
