Yesterday was the day. After all of the research and training, the injuries and healing, the moments of doubt and inspiration, I found myself lining up WAY back from the start line with my running buddies, both of them wonderful support systems, my sister and my husband. The day was perfect, cool temps and cloudy; not too cold for standing around in a running shirt and shorts. There was excitement in the air. I offered to take a picture of the smiling couple in front of me. Their bibs read "just got" and "married" respectively. What an awesome bonding experience!
There were around 8,500 runners in this race. Such a crowd! Yet it did not feel crowded. The race was so well organized that we didn't bunch up like I have experienced in smaller races. The wave for our corral left about 10 minutes after the first runners, and we ran well as a pack (in my opinion) well into the race before it started to spread out. The crowds in Eugene are energizing. So many cowbells! So many signs! So many people with lawn chairs out in front of their houses cheering us on. I was toward the back of the pack, so the fact that they were still there was awesome. People had told me that the first 6 miles were great, and they were. I had energy. I was very used to running this distance. I kind of had broken the race up in my mind into 3 sections, and had asked my husband to take his photos of me at mile 4, 8, and 12.
Between mile 7 and 8 there was a hill. We had driven the course the day before, but somehow had missed this one. We have a favorite route on our training schedule that involves a couple of hills, so I wasn't too worried about it. This hill seemed to take forever to get up. I passed a lot of people who were walking. I burned a lot of energy here. There are a lot of hills in my bucket-list marathon, so how to tackle these mid-run hills is something I'm going to have to do a lot of thinking about in the future. The next few miles were not as fun as the first 6, but they were doable, and I still had energy. I was still interested in talking to my husband, who stuck by my side the entire way.
We passed the starting line, which happened to be mile 9 with Hayward Field on the left. The stands were beginning to fill up with people.
At about mile 10, I started to really lose my energy. This must have been about 2 hours into the race, and maybe I wasn't good about replenishing my fuel. I downed the last of my jelly beans, the only fuel I trusted at that point to not upset my stomach. I turned the corner and my knee locked up. I had to walk a little. (Up to this point I had made a point of walking through all of the water stations and drinking something at every chance. Who can run and drink?) Mile 10-13 were pretty hard. I walked a couple of times for just a short stint, maybe 30 seconds to 1 minute. I spent a lot of time just trying to get into the rhythm of the run, focusing on my pace and my breathing. The last mile was almost a zen experience. My husband was trying to be encouraging and kept up the chatter, but I finally asked him if we could just have a silent last mile. I needed the focus more than the encouragement at that point. I just needed the chance for my will to overcome my body's desire to quit.
At the Eugene half-marathon there's an intersection at the end of the run before you hit Hayward Field. You can hear the crowds. You can hear the band. You have just run through the park, mostly in solitude with other runners. There are spectators lining the entrance. The stands are full. The energy is high. The track is soft after 13 miles of road. The excitement I felt when I saw the finish line was like the excitement I feel when my kids come home from college. I was able to find the energy I didn't think I had to finish strong. (Well, at least I thought it was strong.) I grabbed my husband's hand and raised it with mine as we crossed the finish line.
We just ran a half-marathon!!!
I got my medal and headed back to meet my sister, who it turns out had beat me by 10 minutes. I started feeling lightheaded and cranky. They wanted to hug and congratulate, and all I could think was that I have to keep moving. (I looked it up later. This is common. Your body needs a cool-down after a hard workout or you experience light-headedness.) I walked a maze through the cooling down, refueling runners spread all over the recovery area. (It would be nice if race organizers had a cool-down area separate from the eating area.)
I finally got in line for pancakes (sounded yucky at that point) and chocolate milk (best recovery drink ever). This is the first race that I haven't eaten much afterward. I just felt sick and tired, but victorious. I had a hard time sitting down to eat, and once I sat down my body was clamoring for the bathroom, so I had to heave myself back up to go stand in that line. It probably took a good 45 minutes of rest (and the chocolate milk) for me to start feeling like I could fairly comfortably move around. We checked out the massage tent, but there was a 45 minute wait, and the breeze was starting to feel chilly, so we just hobbled to the shuttle instead and headed toward home.
This was an amazing experience. I would run Eugene again in a heartbeat. I know I made it sound bad at the end, but that was my own experience, and I have to remind myself that I was equally uncomfortable at the end of each of my firsts. I didn't know if I would make it to the end of my first 5K. I was sweaty and sore, but victorious. Each 5K after that became a little easier. I ran out of energy at the end of my first 10K in Redmond (wisely choosing Gatorade toward the end of that race). I was sore, but victorious. The second 10K I ran was good and I knew how to pace myself. Each of my long runs has been horrible, yet I go on to do one more mile the following week, making the previous one seem almost like a short run. It's true what they say, that the last mile is always the worst.
This morning I have the time to ice my knee and think about my race, time to research and plan for my next one, time to think about that marathon...
Happy running!
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