i did that

Where I’m living is not a storybook world. It’s the real world, full of gaps and inconsistencies and anticlimaxes.” ~ Haruki Murakami

I finished and it was hard. Really, really hard. I’m finding it challenging to do a marathon recap because I’ve got so many competing feelings about it and the biggest one seems to be disappointment. Not disappointment in how I did – my goal was to finish and I did. So this post might be a bit of a mess, but I really want to capture this while it’s fresh.

I knew when I signed up for this particular marathon it was a small race. I picked it because my requirements were flat course, lower altitude, and no time limit. This race met all of those criteria so seemed a good fit. I don’t have extensive race experience. I’ve done more than a handful of 5ks, a 10k, and two half-marathons and most of them were pretty small affairs so I assumed that this one would be a similar experience to those – with a lot more miles to run.

I took training seriously. Ran almost 830 miles, spent countless hours training, recovering and planning all to prepare myself for one 26.2 mile run. Training wasn’t perfect and headed into the run I was struggling with confidence, but I was determined.

I think I started feeling disappointed at the packet pick up. I don’t want to sound like a whiney baby, but I probably will. To call packet pick up low key is an exaggeration. I’d received an email earlier in the week that said, “please try to make this packet pickup, you get a Christmas goody bag, your choice of shirt color and added care.” My experience was they asked my name, handed me my bib, asked me my shirt color (red or blue), handed me my shirt, and… that was it. I did grab a goody bag that was sitting on the counter (it was some candy) and the “added care”? Pretty sure that didn’t happen. Or maybe it did. I have nothing to compare it to. It was a bit anti-climactic.

Got to the race on time. There were a few announcements and then we were off. There were three races happening – a half-marathon, full marathon, and a 50k so there were about 105 of us at the start. The course was a 3.38 mile loop around Bachman Lake. We completed it 8 times. A marathon is 26.2 miles – so that math doesn’t so much math. And this is important at the end of the run.

During the run I experienced all the emotions – excitement at the start, jitters through the whole first mile, and happy thoughts and confidence until mile 16 or so. That’s when things turned dark. Because we were running a loop and it had turned into a windy day – 31 mph gusts were blowing us around. They were at our backs for about 1/4 of the loop, that was okay, but the rest of the loop – woof! My legs were hurting, my feet were really hurting, and my feelings were really, really hurting. I didn’t ever doubt that I would finish, but I did think a few times I no longer wanted to be doing this. Every time I completed a lap I was rewarded with my cheer crew. My cheer crew was my mom, my daughter, my daughter’s boyfriend, and several of my daughter’s friends. They made a huge difference for me. Knowing they were gonna be there at each loop – smiling and cheering and holding up signs – was extremely encouraging. On most of the loops at some point I would text my daughter to let her know I needed more fuel, more water, more kleenex – I guess you would say my cheer crew was also my pit crew. And the loops?!? They were good and they were bad. After the first loop I was feeling pretty good – thinking just gotta do this 7 more times. After the second loop I told myself I was 1/4 of the way done – woot, woot! Then the third lap – that’s when I realized the distance was gonna be off and I spent a lot of time trying to do the math to figure out how far I was really running. I eventually gave up that effort and just ran knowing my time wouldn’t be right and the distance wouldn’t be right – just accepted I was doing more than a marathon (I was doing an ultra-marathon if you will).

During my 6th loop – I was feeling super discouraged. I texted the family chat to let them know I was hurting. Everywhere. And my daughter asked if I wanted her to run a little with me. I don’t know if she thought I’d take her up on it, but when I got to her at the start of loop 7 I asked if she was coming. This wasn’t part of the plan, but it was the encouragement I needed at that point. Those of us remaining on the course were so spread out that I was running all alone at this point. We walked a lot of that loop, but also ran more of it than I really wanted to and we chatted. I was totally distracted from how I was feeling and how much I was hurting. She finished that loop with me and I started the last loop feeling much more confident. It was like the pain was just background noise. And then I hit 26.2 miles – and there was still a lot of loop left. I can’t even describe how that felt other than crushing. I had the expectation I would run more than 26.2 miles during the run, because of weaving around people and such, but that wasn’t an issue on this race. We were on a sidewalk. And I wasn’t weaving around anyone. They did tell us this would be a little long because of having to reroute the course due to construction, but I had no idea a “little long” would be .8 of a mille. I had no choice, but to continue. I was at 27 miles just before the finish line.

I crossed the finish line – my crew was there. There were race officials and volunteers and they cheered. And it was over. All done. I was sort of waiting… and nothing. Finally I caught the eye of a race official and she asked if I needed something. I said, “a medal” they looked at each other and one of them finally went and picked up two medals and told me I could choose. All the medals were the same – or rather all the distances had the choice of the same two medals. Both said 13.1 & 26.2 on them. Even those that ran the 50k had the choice of those medals. I was expecting a medal just for my distance. I was also expecting the receiving of a medal to be a bigger deal.

I do know that most, maybe all, of my disappointment is because of my own expectations. (I’m gonna blame TikTok for that.) I’ve recently watched all sorts of folks share their marathon experiences – Sydney, Berlin, Chicago & New York, but I thought I was being realistic. I knew this was a small marathon. I knew there wouldn’t be crowds and there wouldn’t be a ton of course support. I wasn’t expecting race expos or swag bags. From what I could tell this run didn’t have any sponsors and it’s a fund raiser for the National MS Society. But… I don’t feel like my expectations weren’t over the top. I expected “added care” at packet pickup and I expected the finish to be more than what it was. That was really it. I should mention there was race support. There was water at the course and electrolytes – I did have to stop and fill my own cup, but I feel like that’s just getting nit picky.

Will I run another marathon? I don’t think so, but I’ve learned to never say never.

Uncomfortably Hard

We make a living by what we get. We make a life by what we give. ~ Winston Churchill

My toe? It’s not broken. It’s still causing me problems, but it’s getting better and while running isn’t currently happening I am keeping on keeping on with the bike and the rower. Just getting that out of the way so I can get to the uncomfortably hard thing this post is about.

I was sharing my marathon journey with a co-worker, because are you really training for a marathon if you aren’t telling EVERYONE about it?? And he mentioned he was getting ready to run a marathon relay and fundraising for Compassion International. I had no idea there was a Team Compassion out there running and fundraising. A little background…

Michael worked for Compassion for 16 years. His job is how we ended up in Thailand. I currently work for Compassion and I recently celebrated my 8 year work-a-versary and before either of us worked for Compassion we sponsored kids. This year marks our 20th anniversary as sponsors and during that time we have supported seven children in four different countries. We have had the joy of visiting several of the children and have seen the incredible changes that are possible when a local church comes alongside a family in poverty.

I found the fundraising thing intriguing. And also scary. I don’t like asking people for things. And I really, really don’t like asking people for things that involve their money. It’s uncomfortable – a different kind of uncomfortable than running a marathon. I figure since I’m taking on hard things, why not do this and get uncomfortable? So here goes…

Globally, 800 children die daily from water-born disease from unsafe water. The funds you donate will provide vulnerable children living in poverty access to clean and safe drinking water—preventing life-threatening diseases and allowing them to stay in school and focus their energy on overcoming poverty. Your donations will provide essential water infrastructure such as wells, rainwater harvesting systems, and water storage and filtration, in addition to vital hygiene education. 

If you would be interested in donating to support me in this effort follow this link to my fundraising page.