Marathon
Day 35:
Sunday 13 December 2015
If you run a marathon but don’t
write a blog post about it, did it really happen?
It’s been 5 weeks to the day
now since I ran my first marathon. And
to be honest, it’s taken every single one of those 35 days to try and sort
through and process that exhilarating day—to try and get back to the top of
that mountain I was on, that I had been striving and working toward throughout the
months leading up to that Sunday, and which I’ve been looking back up on ever
since. To be honest, I still need more
time to process.
That’s why it’s taken so long
to post this blog. Because I keep trying
to wrap my mind around it. Because I
keep trying to figure it out and bounce back.
It takes a lot out of you.
But it’s worth every step. Every.
Single. Step.
So what follows is a
compilation of attempts to write about this experience that really almost
defies words. It’s a glimpse of three
different views of the marathon: immediate reflection and effort to just get it
all down so I could remember it later, from the day of the actual marathon;
first attempt to “officially” write about it three weeks post after my first
run since; and finally one last attempt to write about it and piece it all
together 5 weeks out.
It’s a little long, it’s a
little up and down here and there (just like the very hilly route of the
marathon). But this is what it is, what
it was, what it is. At least for me.
So come on a run with me. Join me for just a short leg and read one day
here or there, or stick it out with me for the whole thing (I promise it won’t
take as long to read as it took me to run the actual thing, though maybe close
:p).
~*~
Day of…
Sunday 8 November 2015
Before:
This is it. Ready. Set. Go!
After:
I did it! And it was amazing!
And I really don’t even have words right now and don’t know what to say. I feel like I should write right now so that
I can get it all down while I’m still riding the adrenaline from the day—but I
am also so very tired and just want to go to sleep. My knees hurt and my hips hurt (though not as
badly as earlier) and I want to just lay down.
But I feel incredible. Like so awesome. But like I don’t have words. Maybe they’ll come tomorrow—winged words for
my journey on winged feet…also, I am really hungry. Anyway.
Try to get down some quick details at least.
Dreamt last night (as I usually
on the nights where I know I’ll have to wake up early the next day) that I woke
up late and was getting stuff ready to leave so last minute and was late
leaving. That didn’t actually happen but
I woke up feeling flustered but relieved from it. Woke up just before 430 and got up, made
coffee, Facetimed my family which was cool.
They wished me luck. They had confidence
in me. Dad said he wasn’t worried about
me running, which was really nice. His
confidence helped I think.
I still ended up running a few
minutes behind actually leaving, running out the door at like a quarter to
6. My friend/fellow-teaching fellow, Julia,
and I walked down the hill to catch a cab that would take us down to the
shuttle points. The pre-dawn/night sky
was really cool. The stars were literally
aligned, lined up and pointing to the waning-crescent, bowl-shaped moon.
We made it to the busses and
met up with another teaching fellow and his friend that were running, too. We got on the bus and drove to the city of
Marathon, heading backward down the route we would later run. My eyes took in the buildings and the
landmarks and the sights along the route. I remembered some of the places, but
I didn’t really remember them in context, which made it a tad hard later when I
was trying to gauge how much longer I had to run or where I would see such and
such (i.e./the metro stop that the other fellows were waiting for us at).
We got down to the marathon
starting area around 7 and still had a ton of time before the official start
time. I have never seen so much public
urination, and, for that matter, acceptable public urination. As soon as we got off the busses we saw people
headed to the fields to…you know. Even
along the route people would run to the side to pee. Even within the first 100 meters of the race
after just starting.
Anyway. We found a spot to pause, put on the plastic
coverings they gave us to help keep warm (though they were kinda on the έτσι
κ’έτσι side). We got our stuff together,
then checked our bags in the trucks that would take them to the finish line
where we could pick them up afterward.
Then we headed into the stadium
where there was a bunch of people milling about—and waiting in line for the
line of porta-potties lining the side of the track. Things that would be useful to bring if I’m
ever crazy enough to do this again:
- old,
warm clothes that you can wear to stay warm in the hours leading up to the
race and then ditch right away for charity (I was a little chilly until
like half an hour before the race when we started warming up, but I didn’t
really have any clothes to wear that I could just dump).
- a
plastic bag to hold food/water in until start time.
- toilet
paper (I didn’t need it need it, but the second time I went to the
bathroom it took a couple of tries to find a suitable and stocked
potty. Man, do runners have to use
the facilities a lot…anyway).
We hung out and time passed
quickly—and oh my gosh I forgot to mention the gorgeous sunrise! A big, glowing pink-orange glob just hovering
above the horizon but below this set of clouds with radiant “God-beams” peeking
through and streaking above, stretching across the sky. Oh, and the mountains in the background and behind
you—oh, and over to the left, and yes, too, in front of you the whole time you
are running, a backdrop to the runners treading before you, something to strive
toward…anyway. That description doesn’t
do it justice but you can kind of start to picture it.
We warmed up, stretched, got
ready… and then it was just about time to head to our starting blocks. I went and found block, found a spot out of the
way and adjusted my shoes. Stood in the
sun and waited and breathed and prayed and visualized.
And then we were moving toward
the starting area.
And then we were moving forward
to the finish line.
And then there was a minute and
a half to go.
And then 10 seconds (δέκα).
And then πέντε (5).
And then we were off.
It started out as a slow jog
and we passed over the starting line and our chips kicked in. Weaved in and out a little bit which added up
at the end and sent me past the 26.2 miles according to my run tracker, but oh
well. I just had my metronome going at
first but kept pace with it pretty well.
No music. Wanted to just
experience it for a while.
People from all over the
world. People from Greece. Couples friends groups fitness-teams
loners. Old people. People with their kids. People dressed in costumes—mr. greek man,
zeus, mr. hot dog and his buddy fries... Even several people running barefoot.
Just so much to take in.
And the first like 1-13 km were
pretty far out, away from the city—like farmland and mountains and smaller,
rustic homes and stands/shops. But the
people who lived there came out and stood by the side of the road and
cheered. And there were people dotting
the whole route, some areas more concentrated than others. They would clap and
cheer and offer high fives and say “Μπράβο παιδιά!” (“Bravo, paiditha!”).
And it was just so cool—support
and thanks and cheers from people you don’t even know, who came out and spent
their day on the side of the street, just to be there for you and help you
through your race. Just a cheer or high
five from a kid or a bottle of powerade from the volunteers at the stations or
a smile from a random face in the crowd—it stretched anew the smile on my face
and helped me pick up my feet a little bit higher and keep moving forward.
We circled around the tomb of
the Athenians from the Battle of Marathon, hitting the 5k (3mi) mark just as we
were rounding the little loop. And my
pace was less than 11 minutes per mile and I was feeling pretty darn good—like
things might turn out better than I originally thought, like I could maybe even
raise the bar on my goals a little bit.
By mile 8-9, however, I started
to slow down and creeped up past an 11 minute pace. After the halfway point, I was still feeling
pretty good overall, and actually pretty darn good about how I’d conquered that
first half marathon. But the hill and
other fatigue and feet factors kicked my butt time wise, and each mile pace
kept creeping up a bit higher and higher.
But that’s okay—it ultimately stayed below 12 for each mile, which is
incredible in my book.
I tried segmenting—just make it
to the next mile in my headphones or seeing the next km sign to my right or
reaching the next water stop. And then
the next. And then the next. And so on.
But just one at a time. And I
tried to divvy up and plan out my refueling points. Major refuel every 4 miles or so.
Oh my gosh! Everyone is freaking amazing and supportive
and nice and awesome and I have the best new Fulbright friends/family anyone
could ever have and it made today and this already awesome experience just a million
and one times better! Ahh—oh my gosh! they are seriously the best.
I was kinda getting bogged down
two-thirds to three-quarters of the way through and then I was a tad disoriented
with where the landmarks on the route actually were and how much longer till
our meeting spot (that metro stop I had noted as we passed earlier, but then
couldn’t remember correctly in context going the other way. I had started my
music and that helped some, but I was feeling it and slowing down and the hill…..
But then I finally saw where I
thought the station was. And I started
going faster (though really not a whole lot faster if you were to actually
measure it, but it felt faster). And
then I saw the other teaching fellows with their signs. And then they saw me and started
yelling/cheering. And I was smiling so
much and so happy to see them. And their
signs were so cute/nice!
And Jeanine is the best: she
got a message from my family and put it on the poster, and also a video that
she showed me on her phone after the race which was so, so, so sweet. My eyes scanned the signs and I saw “MicMic”
and was like hmmm how’d they know that and then I saw the rest of the sign and
it was like “Go MicMic, We Love You Mom, Papada, and Bubbub”. SO sweet.
And one of the other teaching fellows was nice enough to let me call
them after I finished which I really appreciated.
And then they also had a “Go
Micole, On Winged Feet!” and a “Keep Calm and Marath-On” and “Ti einai afto
Furripidos” (what is this?—directed at the first guy who ran it 2500 years ago).
But that was like seriously the
boost I needed to be able to finish the race.
Made me so happy, made me smile, made me pick up my stride and keep
pushing forward, made me determined to really finish the race running every
step. 6 miles to go. I could do this…
I kept going. I tried to see if I could pick up my pace
enough to get closer to 5 hours but couldn’t quite do that, but that was
okay. The last few miles stretched on a
while and there were a couple points that were hard where I had to like rein in
my breathing so that it wouldn’t get away from me or where I would have to focus
and consciously breathe through a moment or try to work out the wrinkle blister
pain in my socks or mathematically wrestle with the expanse of time and space
between miles/km.
Also, I forgot for a teeny tiny
bit how long a marathon actually was—I couldn’t remember if it was 41.1 dm or
42.1 km. I think I was mostly confused
because my run mapper app was a bit off from all the weaving. And also, like I knew where I was kinda, but
I didn’t have a good enough sense of where I was in relation to the end. So I just kept on going, striving for a 12
minutes pace.
And then we were passing Benaikio.
And then we turned behind the National
Gardens.
And then we were running on
that stretch for a while and there were a lot of cheering people lining the
roads.
And then there was a guy saying
only 400 meters left and those 400 meters were loooooonnnnnnnggggg, let me tell
you. I just kept going. That’s the only thing I could do.
And then there were 250 meters
left.
And then I was turning into the
stadium and had my phone filming the last minute or so, and I was running and
running.
And then I was in the stadium
and there were people everywhere and I had done it, I was doing it!
And then the finish line was in
sight and the cameras were taking pictures and it wasn’t hard to make sure I
smiled for those J
And then I was crossing the
finish line and I crossed it and I finished and, and, and, and…….
It was incredible.
And I finished running across
the line, after running the whole thing.
And it was such an awesome experience.
And then I was walking and it was painful and slow but I had done
it. And I kept following the path, and
stopped to stretch momentarily and then I kept walking and then I got my
medal!! And I saw some of the other fellows at the wall and I went over by them
and got hugs and high fives and smiles and congratulations. And then I did a ridiculous amount of walking
to get food and my bag and back to the stadium, which has these ridiculously
high marble steps.
And then just about everyone
was back in the stands and I got hugs and congrats and that surprise video and
it was such an awesome show of support and happiness and really the crowning
jewel of the race. I love these
people—they’re amazing and so supportive and were with me through the training,
even on the track, and offering support and encouragement, and then they came
and watched and cheered and helped and loved and and and. They’re so sweet—they are so sweet.
I was very slow moving. My knees and hips were killing. My feet
weren’t too bad. I was wrapped in that
aluminum blanket to stay warm. Tried to
stretch and keep moving. There were hugs
and pictures and warm words and and and J J J J
so much happy today. SO much.
It’s one thing to run a
marathon—on your own or whatever. I did
that. But it’s so much better, it’s so
amazing, running with people you know and having people you know come out to
support you—and even though people from home couldn’t be physically here to
share in the day they were here virtually and in spirit, and I have an amazing group of people and new
friends here who have helped make this new place home. They made this day, they’re making this
year—incredible.
I came home and caught up with
family from home, messaging and Facetiming.
And I took a cold bath to try and combat muscle soreness and ate a
banana and chocolate milk and got dressed and stretched and ate an apple (because
by now, I was hungry). And then we all
gathered downstairs and joined everyone for dinner in the living room. And it was a nice evening spent in good
company. And I got to hear other views
of the marathon and it was just a cool atmosphere and good conversation and
company and really, really, really nice J And bub called and I talked to her for a bit.
And that just about sums up the
main details of today. Today was a good
day. I’m definitely glad I did
this. I can’t believe I did this. I did this! I ran a marathon! We triumphed
today. We crossed the finish line. We
made it. Thank You.
Today I ran my first marathon,
along the route of the first marathon ever over 2000 years ago. In the footsteps of the original soldier, in
the footsteps of the runners who ran before me, earlier in the day and also in
the years before, adding my own footsteps to the path. With amazing friends who helped make this
amazing experience and this amazing place even more amazing!! On winged feet,
with winged words---- J J
~*~
Day 22:
Monday 30 November 2015
One foot two foot, red foot
blue foot
I just went on a run. And it was amazing. Though on the surface, there wasn’t
necessarily anything that extraordinary about it: I didn’t run it at some super
awesome gazelle pace; I only went just over two miles; I wasn’t wearing my
favorite running outfit or even a cute one—certainly, no one was going to be
asking me to be in any running ads had they seen me looking like a slow moving
polar bear in a sweatshirt with her hood pulled tight around her cheeks and a
stomach still pretty full of all the lasagna and gelato savored during a
weekend in Rome J;
and it was kinda chilly, which almost made me just crawl in my bed instead of
hitting the pavement… So see? nothing special.
But part the curtain, peer into the depths of the water, dust off the
mirror, tune your ear to the wind, open the book, read between the lines, see…
This run was the first since I
ran the Athens Authentic marathon three weeks ago.
And like I said, it was
amazing.
Now, the marathon itself was
absolutely incredible, and I do want to spend some time sharing at least some
of those 26.2 miles and 5:18:22 (and I tried to work in that piece with that bit
above taken from the night of).
Everything I heard beforehand
told me that the feeling of running a marathon and the atmosphere of the Athens
one in particular was just so beyond awesome.
But even all the Pinterest running blogs and lists of “10 things I wish
I’d known before running my first marathon” and talking with friends (runners
and non runners alike) couldn’t quite prepare me for the steady thrill and
sheer determination of each persistent (and perspirent) pavement-ponding step,
nor the pure exhilaration and joy of crossing that finish line in the
Panathenaic Olympic Stadium (the stadium for the first modern olympic games in
1896!).
Incredible.
But there’s another side of it,
too. Because what do you do after
running 42,995 meters? It’s not the Super Bowl and you have school the next
morning so you’re not going to go to Disney World, fun as that would be. So what?
All of the post-marathon,
recovery blogs I’d read in the week leading up to the marathon like I was
cramming for a big test, all of the tips and plans and expect this and do that
to avoid sore muscles—none of it prepared me for the weeks post-marathon.
Have you ever experienced
Wisconsin weather? If you haven’t, go visit for a week and you’re almost
guaranteed to get a taste of all four seasons in that time span. Sunny and seventies one day. A foot of snow
the next. Rainy skies in the morning
then clear starry night. Winter spring
summer fall, you’ll get to feel them all.
Anyway. These last three weeks have kinda been like that. At times I’ve felt the joy of a sunny
afternoon. At other times I’ve felt like
I was trying to shovel my car out with a spoon while also battling a blizzard
and a cold. Still at other times I felt
the quiet lethargy of a rainy day. And
others the bursting happiness of the first real spring day.
It’s been a whirlwind.
And today, I was headed into
the fourth week of trying to navigate this post-marathon weather. But today I strapped on my running shoes
before I could think twice about it. And
I pulled on an extra sweatshirt to fight the rising goosebumps. And I turned on my music. And I started running.
And my feet lifted off the
ground in way they haven’t in a while, at a pace they soon recalled. I found the rhythm—my body hadn’t so soon
forgotten. And it was fairly easy,
smooth, comfortable—like meeting up with an old friend you haven’t seen in a
long time and picking up right where you left off.
Is this too cheesy? It’s true.
And with each inhale my lungs
filled with air that had turned refreshingly crisp and cool instead of bitter
and cold. And my head cleared. And the cold stopped chasing as I outran
it. And one lap became two became
three. And then I’ll stop after two more
became just one more became just one more became. Okay, I’ll stop for now but this is it.
This is what I’ve been missing.
Running became such a part of
my life in the last four months. Such a
part of me. And without it I felt a bit
like I’d lost my balance. I just didn’t
feel wholly and consistently and totally well.
I forgot how a run could clear
your head, boost your energy, make you feel just better.
It’s what I needed.
And though there’s a sign of a
tell-tale ache here and there and my muscles are in need of a good stretch,
it’s the best kind of ache. Underneath
that twinge is the ache, the pull to run.
Time to start training for the
next one ;)
~*~
Day 35:
Sunday 13 December 2015
And now we’ve come full
circle. And where are we?
That run 3 weeks out that I
just wrote about—every word of it is true.
And I’ve had a few other such runs since. And I’ve been courting other workout
options. But getting back into a full
flow of running like before isn’t happening as easy as I want it to, as easy as
I need it to. Some days it feels like it
isn’t even happening, ya know.
σιγά-σιγά
Slowly…slowly.
Because I had those moments of
running, because I saw how my training paid off, because I was in that, I could
feel it. But being out of it,
disconnecting, I forget that the marathon didn’t really happen in one day. It wasn’t just 26.2 miles.
140 days plus that one
Sunday. 421 miles plus those 26.2.
σιγά-σιγά
It’s a process. (those of you who read drafts of my personal
statements and reflective essay might remember that mantra I embraced and wrung
every ounce of applicability out of last year).
It’s a mantra I need to take back up.
Because even though it’s slow going, it’ll happen. But it’ll only happen if I keep taking the
steps I need to take. And keep taking
them even though I can’t see the top of the mountain right now, the finish line
(the keep-going-on-to-the-next-big-thing line).
Keep taking them even though I can’t feel it right now.
It’s a process.
This might not be what you were
expecting to hear about a marathon. It’s
not what I was expecting to write 5 weeks ago.
And I look back and wonder what I could have done differently in those 5
weeks. But those 5 weeks have already
happened. And I can only control what
I’ll do in the next 5 weeks—and then beyond.
I can only keep taking steps forward.
Steps back to normal. Steps to
the next goal.
Maybe even the steps for the
next marathon… ;)
~*~
(I’m going back and piecing it
all back together now, still the same day as day 35 reflections, but just
later. But just to note quick, after I
finished typing that winky face earlier, I strapped on my running shoes and hit
the pavement for a quick 1 mile run before going on with the rest of my day, to
just get moving again. To take a few of
those steps towards getting back to running, getting back to normal, getting
closer to that next goal. σιγά-σιγά….)
J
So there you have it: three
different views of one of the most amazing experiences I’ve ever had, and of
the weeks that followed; three different attempts to process and work through
it all; three pieces of a puzzle I’m still trying to solve.
Go run a marathon—I highly
recommend it. The feeling of working
toward it, doing it, accomplishing it—it’s just absolutely incredible. Or go run your own “marathon”, whatever goal
it is you have. And remember that every
race, every journey, every “marathon”, (cliché as it sounds), starts with a
single step. And then another. And another.
σιγά-σιγά
It’s a process. Slowly, slowly. σιγά-σιγά.
But it will happen.
Just keep running.
And maybe just a few more views of the marathon:
Pre-Race
~
On your mark, get set, GO!
~
Views mid-race:
~
I did it!!!
~
The finish line/Panathenaic Olympic Stadium
~
Post-race
~
We did it!!
~
The best support group/friends anyone could ask for!
~*~
