Yesterday, I ran the Nike Women's Marathon in San Francisco. I am going to start off my marathon recap by making a few positive statements, the import of which should become apparent as I fill in the details. First, I started the race. Second, I finished the race. Third, I ran the entire way.
When I offer the fact that I started the race as a positive statement, it is because I woke up feeling terrible the morning of the race. Actually, I didn't really wake up because I had been up all night long. That's right -- I couldn't sleep at all. For reasons still unclear to me, I lay in my nice comfy hotel room bed and tossed and turned all night. It was awful and it just kept getting more awful as each hour painfully passed and I became more and more aware that I was ruining my race before it even started. This kind of behavior is really unusual for me and I can only guess that somewhere deep inside I was just scared to death of this stupid race. True, I had a really busy day on Saturday, juggling lots of balls so to speak. I know I was somewhat preoccupied with the logistics of waking up super early, getting my stuff organized into the bag I would check with the hotel concierge and the bag I would check with the Nike people for pick-up at the end of the race, and not forgetting things I wanted with me. But I didn't think I was all that nervous about actually running the race. Who knows. I probably never will understand it myself.
At 5:00 I heard the person next door get into the shower. Seriously, who showers before running a marathon? But anyway, at that point I had completely given up on getting even an hour of sleep so I got up, too, made some coffee and tried to assess what I was going to do. I felt terrible, as one usually does after being unable to sleep all night. I thought about just bagging the whole thing. It seemed impossible and stupid to run a marathon on no sleep. But I had trained for 4 months, I was two blocks from the start of the race, and I was awake. I put on my gear, finished my coffee, grabbed my bags and left the room.
I checked my bag at the hotel, then hit the street to find the Nike bag check. It was pitch dark but there were people everywhere. I could hear the loud music and someone on a sound system coming from Union Square, the race start area. I got to the bag check buses, at which point I took off my extra shirt and used my asma medicine. (I don't normally have asma, but I have developed what my doctor calls "exercise induced asma" which makes me wheezy during heavy exertion.) I checked my bag and headed to the Square.
I found myself in my designated starting block and then I waited for the race to start. At this point, I was still wondering what I was doing. I still felt terrible. But I figured I may as well start the race and see what happened. I ate an energy bar and drank my sport drink while the street filled up with more and more women waiting for the race to start. On one level, this was pretty cool. Most people were really excited. It was still pitch dark but the music was booming around the square. I felt bad for the normal people who were staying in the hotels around the square. I'm sure they hadn't really bargained for the 6 a.m. pandemonium wake-up call during their visit to San Francisco. After approximately an eternity, the race started. It took about 8 minutes for my area to cross the start line and we were off.
The first 3 miles were totally terrible for me. I felt really bad. I had a bad headache, my stomach was queasy and I kept getting the chills, either because it was cold or because I was exhausted, I'm not sure which. I plodded along anyway since I wasn't actually sick or falling over or anything. During that first few miles, the sun rose just as we reached the waterfront. That was a nice moment.
By the time we got around to Crissy field, the sun was really up and I was starting to warm up. Things were feeling a little bit better. For some reason, the long hill up past the entrance to the Golden Gate bridge and into the Presidio felt pretty good. I don't mind hills and I passed a lot of people on the way up. I still didn't feel super but I made a quick potty stop and kept going. This was a nice part of the race because the scenery was beautiful and we were getting views of the ocean.
Eventually we reached the 10 mile mark. I saw my time and calculated that I was running about 11 minute miles. Ugh, so slow. But I was afraid to try to speed up since I still didn't feel great and there was a lot of race left to go. The hubby and kids planned to camp out between miles 15 and 16 so I started focusing on just getting through the next 6 miles to see my family. We reached the split where the half-marathoners went right toward the finish line and we bore to the left. A moment of willpower for me to stay left.
Through the Golden Gate park, past a loud rock band and Nike handing out running socks. Why give out running socks in the middle of race? I didn't take any because I didn't want to carry socks for the next 12 miles. I continued to focus on just getting to mile 15 where I would start looking for my kids. Mile 15 passed. Mile 16 passed. No husband, no kids. I decided that my husband must of thought he missed me. We had figured I would be through mile 15 a lot earlier than I was. Alright, so I regrouped mentally and said just 10 more miles. 10 miles is no big deal, I do it all the time. I didn't feel great, but I didn't feel horrible any more and I figured that if I just kept to my 11 minute pace I would at least make it to the finish line. I kept going.
We came out of the park, turned the corner and started running down the Pacific Highway. After about a quarter mile, there they were. My kids started waving, my husband took some pictures. I got all teared up and went over to hug each of my boys. I told my husband I was having a really rough race and I was just trying to finish it. He said not to worry and that I looked great. I think he's a good lier.
Off I went again, thinking just 10 more miles. That was when the wind died and the sun started beating down. There were no trees, no shade here. It got really hot, really fast. At mile 18 we hit a hill. Faster runners were coming up the other side of the highway -- they only had two miles to go. I still had to go all the way around Lake Merced. Ugh.
Mile 18 till about mile 20 were bad. Really, really bad. I was out of my gels, I felt hot and shaky. The terrain was up and down. I remember thinking this was the most horrible experience ever. Ever. I really wanted to walk for a while. The only thing that kept me going was the knowledge that walking would make the race take even longer and I just wanted to be finished so badly. We hit an aid station just past mile 20. I grabbed a huge handful of some kind of energy chews and they filled up my bottle with Gatorade. I drank a lot of Gatorade and filled it again with water. I kept going and somehow I felt a lot better. At some point after that, I passed the pacer holding the 4:45 sign. Well, I thought, at least that's something. Another hill at mile 23 but not too bad. At mile 24 I started mentally chanting, just two more miles. It was going OK. I was actually going to finish.
At mile 25 I was so happy to have just one more mile. Then I suddenly felt horrible again. That last mile was probably the worst of the whole race. I had nothing left. Nothing. It was one foot in front of the other. I was desperately looking for the finish line. Finally I saw it. It seemed agonizingly slow but I finally reached it, crossed it. Oh my god. My watch said 4:45. More than 30 minutes slower than I was hoping for. But I could have cared less at that moment.
You would think that things would have started to improve at that point but they did not. I literally stumbled through the finish line area, accepted my tee shirt and my finisher's necklace. I grabbed a banana and wolfed it down and then took another one. I took a water and started drinking. I walked though and through and through the throngs of people. It was still really, really hot out there beside the beach and all I could think about was getting into some shade and away from the crowds. Finally at the very back of the finish area, I found the buses with all the checked bags. I found the bus I had put my bag on. I needed my bag because my cell phone was in there and all I wanted to do was call my husband, figure out where they were and get out of there.
Standing there waiting for them to find my bag, I got really dizzy and felt queasy again. I had to sit down on the pavement. I drank some more water and dumped half the bottle across the back of my neck. It helped a little. When they finally handed me my bag, I dug out the cell phone and dialed my husband. I told him where to find me, then got up and walked in some small circles. He found me pretty quickly and I had him walk me to the bathrooms because I suddenly need to go. We got some more water and headed for the car.
Of course, the car was about a mile away. It felt like a death march. I was shaking and light headed but I remember that I kept saying I couldn't believe I finished. During the walk, I explained to my husband what had happened and how I just ran a marathon on no sleep. We found the car and I stripped off my shoes and soaking socks, put on sandals, and then I stripped off my shirt and put on a dry one. I had no modesty any more but I don't think there was anyone on the street anyway.
In the car, out of the sun, I started to feel a little bit better. I closed my eyes and fell asleep on the way home. Hubby had to wake me up. We ate something, I took a shower and got into bed. I iced my legs and then went back to sleep for a few hours. I think I was more exhausted than anything else. When I woke up later, I felt much better and after dinner I felt even better. Today, I'm pretty sore but the damage isn't too bad.
So, lessons learned? Sometimes things just don't go as you plan. A huge part of running is mental. For the worse, like when you stay awake all night before the race starts. But also for the better because starting a marathon on no sleep and feeling terrible takes a lot of willpower. It definitely wasn't the experience I was going for, but I guess I should be somewhat proud of finishing at all under the circumstances. Yeah, I think I am.
For what its worth, hubby snapped a few pictures of me as I passed:
And there I go, with 10 more miles ahead of me: