Euphoria!

3:59:36!!!!

I feel like everyone should know that I finished a marathon in 3:59:36!! Without the best training, without jet packs on my back, without having to get an IV drip at the end (although I did have to visit the medical tent), I finished 26.2 miles in UNDER 4 hours. My joy peaked throughout the weekend as I celebrated my ability to walk (however slowly) without aid after running my personal best and the acknowledgement that Boston is perhaps actually within my reach. I feel like this is a life changing event and my life has been enhanced greatly. I looked at myself in the mirror on Saturday and thought to myself, “there is more to me than what used to be.”

And yet, nothing has REALLY changed. I got up this morning and went to work. There was no huge celebration for my victory. My boyfriend took me out on Saturday for a falafel dinner and then we went home and passed out. My parents were strangely absent, due to my insistence that this was not an important race and I was not going to do well and didn’t need everyone to be there. Today I am at work and beyond the inner circle of friends that I have made, no one knows that the reason why I am walking so slowly/like a cripple is because I pushed my body beyond normal limitations. My bank account is no larger, my goals in life have pretty much stayed the same. The race felt life-altering upon completion, but now all it serves to do is make my own life, as happy and busy as it is, seem mundane and dull by comparison. No one cheers me on as I complete my daily tasks at work. At the grocery store, no one is yelling at me, “don’t quit!!” I do not put on body glide to face the other commuters on the bus and I do not slurp any GU to help me make it up and down the stairs of my office.

In this race, I pushed myself harder than I had before. For the first 20 miles, I was looking at my watch and pushing myself to make each mile by a certain time. I was IN the race, rather than just participating. I didn’t expect to WIN, but once I passed 14 miles in 2 hours, I knew that I was going to PR. And I wanted it, badly. In this way, this race was better than any other I’ve ever done. After running a race like this, I know that I can never go back to just running a race. This race set the standard for any race that I may do in the future.

For a while I thought I might make the Boston qualifying (3:40). But I didn’t, and in a way, I didn’t want to. I wanted to save that moment. And in a way, I couldn’t. By mile 21, I was pretty much done. Thoughts of quitting flirted with me. The race took an ugly turn for the last 6 miles, through junkyards and over bridges in Anacostia. No one was cheering. I didn’t want to run anymore. I wanted to walk. I slowed down significantly, turning my sub-9 minute miles into over 10 minute miles. By the time I finally found my boyfriend at mile 26, I yelled to him “under 4 hours!!” because I was still barely under the 4 hour mark. He pushed me forward – if I hadn’t seen him, if he hadn’t given me that last burst of energy, I think I would’ve hit 4 hours. But I did. Running past the finish line, I thought that everyone should be amazed by my accomplishment.

After finishing and taking as many post-race goodies as I could fit in my arms (and getting the most BEAUTIFUL medal yet), I tottered around until I found my boyfriend. Then collapsed. My friend GutsyGeise came to show her undying support and I was cranky and unbelievable un-charming to her. After lying in the sun for about an hour, I declared, “I want to go home!” like a stubborn 5 year old and then limped slowly around in a circle before stating “I want to find the medical tent!” I was feeling incredibly nauseous and walking did not help. So my patient companions found the medical tent for me and waited outside while I was given an anti-nausea pill and sat for a few minutes in the shade (the weather, btw, was GORGEOUS and sunny and warm for the race. But almost hot upon completion). Some guy tried to chat with me about the hills of the course and I couldn’t understand why I had to be social while sitting in the medical tent. 3 people were sitting/lying down with IVs in their arms and a tiny part of me felt that they must have run harder than me.

And since then I have basically been sleeping, eating, and walking slowly and unsteadily around Washington, DC. In a small way, this is one of my proudest achievements. It is something that I did on my own that not many of my peers have done. It is an accomplishment that I am savoring, holding as my own. I humbly acknowledge that there are plenty of people out there who can do much better than me, but at the same time I am actually allowing myself to feel pride for this. I find that to be kind of hard to do, but at the same time, I really believe that I earned it. I’m not running around with my medal on (although I did wear it around my apartment after seeing that I placed 982 in the whole race), but I’m not going to just let this be another weekend. I want to work hard and do better and get this euphoric feeling back again. I want to earn it and not just have it be handed to me.

I am ready to qualify for Boston.