My One-Year Anniversary with Marathons

So today is my 1 year anniversary with marathons.  I ran my first one last year on 10/26/08.  It was fabulous- my parents came up to watch, my brother came to run it (we ended up finishing together even though we hadn’t run anywhere near each other during the whole race), one of my best friends ran it, some of my friends were awesome cheerleaders, and I had a shirt with my name and a line of a Pre quote on it.  The quote was

 A lot of people run a race to see who is fastest. I run to see who has the most guts, who can punish himself into exhausting pace, and then at the end, punish himself even more

I had the “to see who has the most guts” part painted on the back, because as competitive as I am, I also know that a marathon takes more than speed, focus, or discipline.  It takes pure guts. The kind of guts you may not know you have until you’re forced to find out if you do.  I finished with a 4:04 that first race and although I’d been hoping to crack 4 hours, I was still pretty excited and couldn’t fall asleep til 3 AM that night because I was so keyed up.  Since then, I’ve run another in Houston (courtesy of my company) and one in Atlanta.  Houston was a lot of fun, because 20-30 people from my firm were there and I got to meet a lot of cool runners.  Unfortunately, it was also the worst I’ve ever been prepared for a race.  Like any “relationship” you need to put time into marathon training, and I’d been slacking.  My long run was a 13 miler (for good races I log at least an 18), I’d had a bad sinus infection and missed some key weeks of training for work travel to Korea and Germany, then couldn’t motivate myself to get out the door in December.   I didn’t make training as much of a priority and it showed when I clocked a 4:24.   I learned my lesson (I always seem to learn them the hard way) and was determined to crack 4 in Atlanta.  I trained well, running lots of hills with my friend who was running National the week before, hitting up the track for speed, and putting in solid long runs.  I rested well the week before, got some serious carbs in my system and was totally pumped for the race.  I ran with the 4 hour pace group, then pulled away at mile 15 and ended up with a 3:56 after negative splitting.  My entire family was cheering for me at the finish and I’ll always remember my dad yell “you’re doing it!” as I headed to the line with more than 3 minutes to spare.  I’ll also always remember taking a picture with an adorable Georgia bulldog right after the race. I may not have been able to stand, but I was getting a picture with that puppy! 

To celebrate my one year anniversary with marathons, I ran Marine Corps for the second time yesterday.  It was another occasion of being less than well-prepared.  Again, I had been traveling, this time to Japan and Korea, and hadn’t run as many long runs as I’d hoped.  I ran a 20-miler, but that was the week before the race, something any runner will tell you is a terrible idea.  The race started out well and I was logging 8:50-9 minute miles pretty consistently for the first 16-17 miles.  There was a potential for a PR!  But then I couldn’t sustain the pace and was dropping to 9:20-9:30s.  As the last ten miles dragged on, my goal got consistently slower.  “Just break 4,” I thought to myself, then “Ok, K Reed, you can do 4:05.”  After the bridge (1.5 miles of sheer hell and 7 total spectators) I knew even that would be a challenge.  As I ran miles 22-24 in Crystal City I just wanted this race to end.  I was not feeling the love this anniversary.  I wanted to break up with marathons.  I wished I could quit them.  But I knew I wouldn’t.  After mile marker 25 I got a little more bounce to my step.  I was so close.  As I rounded the corner to climb the final stretch, conquer that last hill, crush those final 200 yards I…. puked.  Not once.  Not twice.  But three times. In front of all of the finish-line spectators and runners coming up the hill.  A Marine came to ask if I was alright and needed help to get to the finish line.  I told him:

Nah, I got this

After 26.15 miles no one was helping me to the finish. I was going to get there on my own.  So I regrouped and prepared to execute, sprinting to the finish amidst chants of “Go REED” (thanks to K Reed being written on my shirt.) It was over.  I was done.  4:11.21.  It certainly wasn’t a great showing, being 15 minutes slower than my best and 7 minutes slower than my first marathon ever on the same course a year earlier.  But I’d like to think that somewhere Pre, a fellow duck, is laughing with (or at) me.   Happy anniversary, marathons.  Here’s to many more years of running together.  For better (PRs) and worse (puking), I’ll be right next to you.

Advertisement