Miles 1-10: Great, awesome, fun, in the shade, men in cheer leading outfits, fun fun fun!
Miles 10-20: Ok, Fun still, but not as much. When do we get to turn around?
Miles 20-26: Kill me now. This is stupid. People who do this for fun are stupid. I hate this. Why is the sears Tower so far away still? Shouldn't we be headed back now? Is that woman crying or throwing up?
Miles 26-26.2: Oh God is that the finish line? Why am I running up the only hill in Chicago? I'm done. I am not crying, or happy in any way. In fact, I think I'm angry. Or just tired. Can't tell.
Post-Race: No one look at me, touch me, talk to me, tell me I did a good job, smile, make me eat or drink, or try to congratulate me in any way. I am in a foul mood and I hate the life choices that have lead me to this point.
Post-Shower: I need food.
Post- Food: Ok that was fun! Lets do it again....
Yes, Alyssa and I finished the marathon. No one died. We didn't even cry at all during the race, although I wanted to around mile 22. Thank God alyssa was there, or I probably would have sat down on a curb and refused to move. Usually I am a very positive person, and I was trying REAL hard to keep it positive and upbeat, but I think most of the stuff coming out of my mouth from chinatown to the finish line was not nice. We ran the whole stinking thing (ok we walked through aid stations but that does not count), probably because we know after mile 20 that if we started walking, it was over. We have our medals, we got our potato blankets, and we can now say we ran a marathon.
But what happens next is a mystery about to be revealed to all:
I spent the week after the marathon on the couch. It was fantastic. I think I started running again around Thursday or Friday, but then I stopped. I deserved some time off right? I thought about training for a triathlon for a while, so I got in the pool and started swimming, or biking instead of running. Way more fun. (for like a week...) Then I can't tell you what I did fitness wise. I was working out every day. I was not following any type of schedule. I ran over Christmas break (when I was not in LA cheering for the Badgers in the Rose Bowl), and then I signed up for some half marathons. This is the part where I actually started following a schedule again....for like a week.
A few weeks into the spring semester, my friend Kelsi asked me if I wanted a job as a distance track coach at Cambridge High School, in Cambridge Wisconsin. She recently reminded me of my initial reaction, which was "Ummmmm maybe?". I had never coached track before, hell I never even really ran it in High School! I enjoy my contact sports thank you very much. But I applied, got an interview, and got the job. Suddenly, I was taking 18 credits, spending about 20 hours a week at this high school, and still working my job at a dorm front desk a few nights a week. I was BUSY, so my workout schedule pretty much was whatever my track kids were doing that day. If they were doing repeat 400's, so was I. Let me tell you, 400's are GREAT for improving your mile time. Not so great for running 13 miles. On days we had meets, my workouts consisted of running all over the football field tracking down kids, taking times, screaming, and formulating race plans. Again, burned a lot of calories, but did not run 5-7 miles.
On top of my hectic life, being a track coach has brought to light some realizations about TERRIBLE habits that I have developed. For instance:
1) I tell my kids NO SODA ("I'll have a vodka sprite please!")
2) I tell them to eat healthy ("Oh its 2am during finals week....I'll call Dominos" OR "When was the last time I ate fruit?")
3) I tell them to stretch (hahahahahahahaha)
4) I tell them to ice injuries (again, hahahahahahaha)
5) I tell them to get enough sleep ("I'll go to bed right after I finish a semester's worth of readings about colonial American print")
6) I tell them to stay hydrated (Ok that one I'm actually good at....)
Basically, its a miracle that I can even call myself a distance runner when I do EVERYTHING a runner is supposed to not do.
Which brings me to my 10 mile run on Monday. I ran the first 5 miles at about an 8:30 pace, turned around, remembered I HAVE A HALF MARATHON ON SUNDAY, and there is no way I can run 13 8:30 miles and struggled all the way back home. I have no way of pacing myself without Alyssa next to me, and with these stupid fast track kids in my head. I predict the first half of my half will be great, and then I will die. And then today, during my taper week, I decided it was more important to do hill repeats in the rain. Nice easy rest week my ass.
I have NO IDEA how the half is going to go on Sunday, but it should bring about some funny stories. It will be my first race alone, without Alyssa and without anyone there to cheer for me. I'll have to make an extra long playlist or someone is going to get punched around mile 11. I don't care what the Gods of running say about wearing headphones, I'm going to have to be THAT person. This is the Madison marathon for goodness sake, not the Chicago marathon. There aren't that many people to cheer for me and tell me how great I look.
Tomorrow is the Sectional track meet, so I am a nervous wreck. I'm sure after that I will be a nervous wreck about this half. (But lets be real, I'll probably forget about it again until Saturday night, eat some pasta, throw on shorts on Sunday morning and see what happens. Thats been my training philosophy so far this time around)
No, I do not have a coach. I do not have a game plan. I do not have any sort of confidence that I can do this. I don't even know if I will have enough clean laundry to make a race-day outfit that is not smelly. But I can live with that.
I ran a marathon dammit.
