To those of you who may not have been consistently following my blog (aka everyone except for my parents...) I signed up for the marathon on a whim this October. One of my dear and very persuasive friends from Wellesley, Dori, came up with the idea. One of our other friends, Amy, followed suit.
I am not a completely inexperienced runner, as I have done some competitive running in college, so the decision to run a marathon didn't come out of nowhere. But, as many runners will understand, my relationship with running is a love-hate one. Sometimes running feels fantastic--you break personal records, feel strong on most of your runs, and generally enjoy running. Other times it feels absolutely terrible (the hate part of the relationship). When I decided to sign up for the marathon, I had been in a protracted "hate" cycle with running. The spring before, I had a miserable track season. I would begin a race and then 5-8 minutes in would feel completely burned out and fatigued. I dropped out of at least one race and ran two minutes slower than my personal record in another. Even on short runs I would feel sluggish. The school doctor diagnosed me with exercise-induced asthma and slightly low iron levels and I began treating the issues. But by then the season was over and I left Wellesley for the year.
Over the summer I worked 40+ hours at an internship. I would wake up between 5:30-6 am in order to make my bus and get home around 6-6:30 pm. I didn't feel like I had the energy to run, and my recent running experiences had been painful. So I did almost no running during the summer.
But then came Dori's idea of the marathon. I figured that it would be a good goal for me to work towards and something that would force me to run. (Admittedly, once I had paid the entrance fee, that was a pretty good reason to run it too.)
I started training in January, and for three and a half months I slowly worked my way from running 3 miles to running 20. It was sometimes fun, but often painful. I threw up after my first official long run of the training program. After I ran 13 miles for the first time, I collapsed on my bed and wondered how I would ever run another 13. When I ran 18 miles, my legs grew so tired that I simply dissociated to make it through the run--I didn't think about where I was going and just put one foot in front of the next (I was running a straight route along the Tiber, so this was actually possible and safe).
When it got closer to marathon time, people began asking me my goals. One of my professors asked me if I was trying to run a specific time, as did several friends. I ultimately decided that I wouldn't have a strict time goal. I just wanted to feel relaxed and comfortable during the marathon (at least to the extent that it is possible), and finish. One of my coaches reinforced this for me, telling me that for a first-time marathoner, simply finishing is an accomplishment. In addition to this, I hadn't run competitively or with a team for a year. I hadn't done a speed workout or worked with a coach. I had run fairly conservatively in terms of mileage because I was afraid of getting injured.
The day of the marathon, I woke up at my aunt and uncle's apartment at 6:30 a.m. I ate a pain au chocolat and a banana. I had picked out and tested every item of my clothing weeks in advance. I felt ready!
At the apartment before the race. My uncle Jean is in the background.
My number!
I arrived at the starting line WAY too early--8 a.m. It was only 32 degrees outside. The excitement and nervousness of all the runners was palpable. In my nervousness, I began talking to other runners. There weren't too many Americans--in the span of about 5 minutes I met a Norwegian woman, an Irish man and woman, a Brit, and several French people. One French woman began giving me advice--don't go out too fast, try to be relaxed, have fun.
At 8:45 the gun went off. People started cheering and yelling. But we didn't move--with over 40,000 runners, only the elites actually started at the official starting time. It was sometime between 9:15-9:20 until I finally reached the starting line. I felt so joyful when I ran across the starting line! I couldn't believe that I was FINALLY here. I had been training 3.5 months and had registered 6 months before.
I started the race off comfortably. I felt amazing--just so happy to be out and running. The sun was shining but the temperature remained cool. I hadn't run in a large group for a year and it was incredibly exciting to be surrounded by other runners. I felt better than I had in a year. Running finally, finally felt good again.
During the race
I stayed steady through the first half and finished it in 2 hours and 2 minutes. I didn't feel tired but I also didn't have the same spring in my step as I did after the first 5 and 10K. By the time I reached mile 16, I started to think, "I can't believe I have ten more miles!"
My hips started aching around mile 18. It is always my hips that get tired and sore first. Simultaneously, my stomach began to get a little upset after about 4 packets of energy gel I had eaten to restore calories. In addition, I had been drinking water at every stop and my stomach started sloshing.
I slowed down considerably--I just couldn't make my legs move any faster. Slowly but surely I made my way through the next 6 miles. Once I reached mile 24, I stopped to stretch. My hips were burning. I walked most of that mile with the hope that a little bit of walking would help me relieve my body enough to run the last mile and a half.
At mile 25 I began running again. It was such a relief to know that I only had 1.2 miles left! I began experiencing what I've heard other runners describe as tunnel vision. I just focused on the thought of the finish line and put one foot in front of the other. There were crowds of people near the end shouting "allez, allez!" I started to pick it up because I wanted to finish strong.
Finally, finally I reached the finish line. "Some Nights" by Fun was playing on my iPod. I looked down at my watch to see that I had completed the marathon in 4 hours 21 minutes and 19 seconds (my coach later informed me that the electronic chip actually recorded me 5 seconds faster). I was so happy I started crying a little bit. I couldn't believe I had done it! I was shuffled through a line of runners where I got my finisher t-shirt, a poncho, and a medal. I met up with my aunt who gave me a huge hug despite my sweatiness and we headed back to the apartment.
At the apartment after the marathon.
That night I met up with my friends Dori and Amy, who ran the marathon in the blistering times of 3h42m and 3h55m respectively. We enjoyed chicken, beans, salad, and potato chips--my aunt and uncle's weekly Sunday dinner. We also posed for pictures to send to the Wellesley cross country and track team!
Now I'm back in Rome but heading back to Oxford on Saturday. I'll write a further post about my visit to the Vatican City soon!
