26.2 miles is a long distance, but nothing compared to 42.1 kilometers.
Okay, maybe it one of those dirty little tricks, but let me tell you- when you hit the 20+ mile mark? You don’t care what it takes. You're thankful for the km markers that appear way more frequently.
Who am I kidding?
Based on the sample size of 2 marathons, even the relief you feel with every passing distance marker, miles 16-21 are just plain miserable. These miles are the ones having you questioning everything. The miles that your body quadruples in weight. The miles that seem impossible to complete step by step.
Just ask Lori. Some of my more memorable exchanges with her in these miles were as follows:
"Go. Leave me. I'm done."
"Who's idea was this?"
"...but I don't wanna."
Best part? We passed other partners having the same "fights" with each other. Our relationship is normal!
Once the legs went numb and we were determined to stop for nothing until the finish line, we formulated our running mantra- The 3 B's: Bling, Beer, Burger. The order is crucial. No bling means we didn't finish the race and although one can consume beer and a burger without running, they taste 100% times better with new race bling hanging around your neck. Fact.
It's fine if you don't believe me. Lori does. She's also the one that at mile marker 23 makes me believe that it's just another 5K and we can do those in our sleep.
That 5K? It's a blur except for knowing that we weren't stopping- not even for clowns with candy and wine & that at one point I sped up while listening to Proud Mary being sang by band along the road side.
Step by step. Aches increasing. Legs like lead.
WE DID IT.
Not quite in 4 hours like Oprah claims to have done, but all that insane training we did over the past 4 months paid off and resulted in a personal record of 5 hours, 10 minutes, and 37 seconds. Now that's still a ton of running, but about 25 minutes less than it took us to complete
The course? Cobble stones only at the food/water/aide stations which made for a very slippery mess (think discarded orange peels, bananas, and water) but we always walk through those anyways. When I wanted to walk (which yes, happens a lot) there always seemed to be a slight down hill to prolong my motivation. The city was out there to support us: bands, drums, dancers, kids with Oreo cookies, clowns with wine and hands stuck out along the side awaiting a high 5 and so many variations of "Katie" being said it was challenging to lose heart and just stop even when it hurt.
And believe me...it did hurt a few times, but somehow the promise of bling, beer, and a burger with your running partner pushes that all the back of your mind.
Next marathon? Well, don't be talking crazy talk just yet. You know the rule- "One or both of us must be sober when deciding to enter a race."
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