So there was that time that I swore on a train and ran a marathon!
So today I was reading someone’s account of running a marathon. I feel a little bit about marathons the way I do about the operation I had on my ankle in high school (and I imagine the way I will [hopefully] one day feel about childbirth.) The minds capacity for forgetting pain is quite impressive.
I wasn’t ready for my marathon. Wait… rewind… I didn’t even want to run a marathon. Two of my friends signed up and I was there thinking, “Isn’t that nice for you…” (Okay, maybe there was a little “thanks for inviting me” jealousy thrown in there too.) Then there was the, “N—, you should run it too.” I wasn’t interested. (Or that was just pride saying, “I will not be invited as an after thought.”)
With time the idea was more enticing, but then there was thing… I’m thin… and I’m not really certain running 26.2 miles is a healthy thing for someone with an eating disorder who doesn’t exactly have an amazing track record with nourishing herself.
Let’s face it when I was animatedly explaining what I was doing to my then 14 year old cousin, about how this is historic and did she know about the first marathon. She looked at me without blinking (from under her insanely long and gorgeous eyelashes) and said, “You know he died after that, right?” …
… Moving on…
I decided to sign up for the Chicago Marathon. It is a lottery. So there is all this anticipation of am I going to do it or not – typing in all your data – submitting – celebrating – and then not knowing if you will actually get to do it. I also had to make a deal with myself that I would only sign up if I was sure that if I was pushing it too hard or I wasn’t healthy that I would drop out. (Goodbye, $185.)
I trained… kind of…
I run everyday – I’ve been running since I was in high school and only took a few years off when I relapsed hard. I rarely skip. (This morning I snuck in 1.25 miles after sleeping through my alarm for 40 minutes straight. Insert slow clap.) But I wasn’t running any crazy distances. My first ten mile run since high school was in March before the October marathon.
So when August and September and peak training time rolled around, I was working up my mileage and ran two 13.1 runs on my own. Then I burnt out. It was the beginning of the school year and days were long and nights were short. I was exhausted. So I quit my training. I knew I could finish which was my only goal. I must say it made me feel MUCH BETTER when I was walking in and the lady next to me told me this was her fourth marathon but she hadn’t trained at all because of an injury.
After the train ride down to Chicago, a pasta dinner (have I mentioned that I hate pasta), I had everything laid out… my bib, my oatmeal smoothie ingredients, headband, ipod, Advil, tissues, belt. I was ready.
Until we were on the train at the crack of dawn on the way downtown, a train full of other marathoners all sitting in silence pondering what we were about to do.
“OH SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Yeah, that was me – the girl who really never swears. I had left my bib on the floor when I put on my pullover.
Yeah, that was the time I swore on a train. Luckily my friend who we were staying with:
- sleeps with her cell phone
- heard her cell phone
- answered me
- got my bib
- one of my friends had driven in
- she found my other friend’s car keys (because she doesn’t own a car)
- drove to the station I had gotten off at
- the train conductor allowed me back on the train without a new pass
And I made it downtown in time to start the marathon.
Nothing like a little Adrenalin kick to get you warmed up before a big race.
So this time around I’m planning on not forgetting my bib, finishing my training, and hopefully not swearing in public.