Marine Corps Marathon 2025 almost didn't happen. After running 2024 less than a year after having baby #3, my body was pretty beat up. I thought maybe retirement from marathons was imminent. I didn't even register until a friend teasingly mentioned that she had registered and she needed someone to do it with her. Somehow, I found myself justifying a nearly $300 registration fee. Somehow, I convinced myself that I would find the time to train. And somehow, I did.
Race morning was cold but beautiful. I went down to the start on the metro with my friend. It was insanely crowded and the metro almost had a major fail by not opening the gates and letting everyone through at Pentagon...but they did it. It was fun to chat with my friend and think about my first marathon almost 20 years ago (!!) and how far I've come. It was fun to imagine doing it for the first time. What a gift she had. A marathon for the first time! And what a gift for me - a marathon for the 28th (29th?) time.
When we got out into the chilly morning air, we walked the mile plus to the startline. Thankfully we didn't have to wait too long for a portapotty and we made our way to the starting corrals. I was remembering how years ago they had people jump out of airplanes and parachute in....why not do that for the 50th? What year was that and why did they do it? I have no idea.
The race started at 7:20 this year - almost a full hour earlier than in the past, and there was oddly no 50k. Why not? I hadn't paid enough attention to understand either choice. But we were there, I had a 50k under my belt, and I had run a 19 mile training run for this race. Would it be enough?
I have been functioning on interrupted sleep for more than 2 years so I knew my time wouldn't be a PR. I considered that I might even go well into 4 hours and made peace with it. I stayed around the 4:05 pace group at the starting line, and enjoyed having a friend around to chat with.
When the race started, we quickly separated and I was on my own. As we all were - your loved ones can carry you, but only so far. In a marathon, you have to carry yourself.
The crowds were phenomenal at Rosslyn - great big cheering walls, all the way up the first hills. It was amazing, exhilerating. Will I ever get over the joy of a marathon? I hope the answer is no.
I was acutely aware of running every mile for the first few miles. I couldn't seem to get into a groove, and yet it didn't bother me. It just felt like it would be a very, very long race. I was using the NRC app and could tell that my pace was not blistering but it was not as slow as I perhaps should have been. But I couldn't help myself. The crowds were so great. The signs were so creative. The people around me were crushing it. I hadn't quite found a groove but I hadn't lost it either. I knew a friend was waiting at Spout Run Parkway, cheering for her husband. But where was Spout Run Parkway? I couldn't remember. It didn't matter.
Somewhere around Hains Point, I realized that I had looked at the map and somehow skipped mile 13 in my head. How did I do that? Did I suddenly forget how to count? Perhaps. Oh well, reaching halfway felt significant and I found a bit more of the groove. We made it out of Hain's Point and out to the National Mall. And even with a government shutdown and a tyrant in office, the National Mall remains a special, almost sacred place to run. How many people get to run those streets in their lifetime, with thousands of people cheering them on (by name, thank you very much to my t-shirt)?
I ran under the bridges of the city thinking of my mom. When she and I did the Cherry Blossom 10 miler together so many years ago, she had let out a whoop to hear the echo and I remember being so embarassed. How young and foolish I was! I let out a whoop under several bridges in her honor.
By the time I reached the bridge, I was feeling...well, really good actually. There's a certain point in every marathon where I feel like I don't know if I will make it, and then there's a turning point where I realize that yes, I will make it. What an amazing feeling. To have that happen on the bridge - well that was a unique gift. I still remember getting there in the first marathon and thinking where the heck are we and having people just fall down near me like flies. But I was still tired. I made it through Crystal City, my headphones dying (stupid wireless headphones) and I was without headphones for the last 3-4 miles. No music to push me through but honestly I couldn't hear my music for most of the race - that's how great the crowds were. I remember going through mile 21, 22, 23....5 miles to go, 4, 3...by the time I got to mile 24 and 25 I knew it was almost over. I made it up the final hill somehow and over the finish line, arms out. I finally mustered the courage to take a selfie with the marine who gave me my medal.
The finish was a bit of a blur - I spoke to Grandpa Bill, who had a tshirt that his grandkids had made him (I'm pretty sure Grandpa Bill beat me). What an inspiration and what a nice guy, who let me in front of him to get my commemorative blanket. How are people still so nice and happy after running 26.2 miles? Let me tell you - because it's the best thing in the world.
