26.2

Well, I did it. I trained for and ran a marathon on October 21, 2017.

Out of 79 planned training runs, I missed two. That’s 77 runs from May 29, 2017 to October 20, 2017. My actual race makes 78 runs.

Just some data and numbers for you in case you’re impressed with those: 

- 631 miles 

- 101.4 hours = 4.23 days of running

- 10ish treadmill runs (maybe more, maybe less)

- 9ish runs with hill sprints

- At least 70 runs were dark or early in the morning

- 20 weeks 

- Three illnesses 

- Three pairs of shoes 

- Four periods 

- Four different states (Utah, California, Louisiana, Nevada)

I’ve experienced tear-inducing chafing on my back, hips, and bikini area.

I’ve had blood-filled toenails. I only actually lost one toenail. It usually just was lifted and discolored from blood.

I’ve had muscle cramps and stomach cramps (thankfully only one time was severe).

I’ve gotten sunburned and attacked by the wind.

I’ve had severe foot pain.

I gave up 20 Saturday mornings.

I’ve used lots of Ben Gay.

And the good?

I rarely had knee pain. I could still run through my illnesses. I accomplished more than I would have ever thought myself capable of.

Here’s my recount:

As for the race itself, it was freezing up at the top. I tried to stay ahead of the 4:30 pacer because I wanted to be done by 11:15am. For a majority of the race, even up to mile 20, I was able to stay ahead of that pacer. But at mile 20 is where I really started to struggle. I just couldn’t make my body go any faster to catch up to them, and I was falling farther and farther behind. That was actually my biggest mental struggle, that although I was trying my very hardest, I wasn’t going to make my goal. All this struggle and all this training and all this pain only to not reach my goal was very disappointing for me. I almost lost my will to keep running.

At mile 10 one of my bosses was there (since the course was about a mile from his home), as was another friend. It was so fun to see both of them and have them cheer me on during my race. At mile 10 I was still going strong and still feeling good.

The race was frustrating and much hillier than I expected. I trained on hills, but these were long. And the north to south and south to north running made it feel really repetitive, with the same sights in the distance. It felt like running in place.

By mile 22, I felt like I was walking more than I was running.

My quads started to lock up really bad. I never had that happen during training, so it took me by surprise and was yet another mental struggle for me—really discouraging. My legs are pretty strong, and the most trouble I had during training were tight glutes and pain in my left foot. So the quad pain was quite unexpected.

At one of the last fuel stops/bathroom stops, a teenage kid was there. His encouragement was so genuine. He told me to keep going, that I was doing great, and to finish strong. He said it like he knew the pain I was in. I was so thankful for him. 

By the time I got to the Jordan River Parkway, I was done, mentally and physically. I just did not want to do any more. I was walking a lot. I almost cried (happy tears) because I had a three separate people heading the opposite direction, total strangers, who weren’t in the race but knew what was ahead, who told me I was doing great, to keep going, and that I was almost there. Their encouragement was so nice. I don’t know if they had any idea what I was up against in my head. So it was really thoughtful of them to encourage me.

I was so tired, and my legs were so stiff that I really struggled to run. I walked most of the parkway, or at least it felt that way.

One frustrating thing was that I started my run on my app right when they said go. This meant I started early. So I was hitting each mile marker about a tenth of a mile ahead of time. This also meant that I finished 26.2 miles quite a bit before the finish line. This also did a number on me because in my head I was already done. But the finish line was still ahead, and I still had to get there.

You can tell by my splits which miles were hard

The time I got on my app versus the official race time has a discrepancy since I started my app early.

Time I got on my app

4:36:45 official time

When I came around the final corner, there was a lady walking with her baby along the finish line, which I thought was really weird. It seemed she was kind of clueless. My friend Kristen yelled at her to get out of the way, which I heard in a video later. So funny.

All my people were cheering for me at the finish line. I probably had the biggest support group there. Of course, I shamelessly solicited for everyone to come. My mom and grandma were there, Julie ran the half and stuck around after, Kristen and her friend Tina were there, Brittney and Kristine, and Rachel and Cara. The cheering and support meant so much.

I could barely walk afterward. I wanted to hug everyone, even though I was sweaty and gross. I was fighting back tears of pain and pride and disappointment. I was hobbling. We took some pictures in the field area. Then we took pictures with the race backdrop, me with everyone, and me alone.

While my mom and grandma went to get my donuts (from Lehi bakery!) and my presents, which they didn’t need to do, I tried out a couple Kodiak pancakes they we remaking for the finishers. They weren’t very good.

Kristen, Julie, and Tina left because they had already been waiting around for me forever! Kristine had to take off because her husband and baby were there. Rachel and Cara got themselves a Waffle Love and then took off afterward to get on with their weekends. Brittney hung around, watched me open presents from my mom and grandma, and helped me carry stuff to my car. My grandma got me some cookies, candy/soda, jerky, and coconut almonds. My mom got me a loofah sponge, a couple of cute notebooks, and an awesome insulated cup. They both brought me flowers and balloons. They're too much. 

The rest of that day went on like a normal Saturday. I switched some laundry over. I showered, picked up my groceries (thank you ClickList, I couldn’t walk), and got a massage. The shower was especially painful because of the chafing I didn’t know I had. It was especially bad around my bikini area. It was completely raw, like a burn. I had to waddle like a penguin, and the skin was raw and weeping so bad that my cotton underwear kept getting stuck to my skin. It was awful. After my massage, I got dinner at Mo Bettah with Brittney, and we watched Wonder Woman at my place. And ate more donuts, obviously. I used some A&D on my chafed areas, which really helped by the next day. I took pictures (with underwear on) just so I could get a better view of it; it was pretty gross.

Everything was hurting besides my legs. My ribs and sternum hurt. My shoulders hurt. Thankfully, my knees did not. But it really just felt like everything hurt. You can watch me emotionally recount the whole thing here:

Sunday was kind of a nightmare of pain. I could barely get myself out of bed. I hobbled very slowly to the bathroom. Walking felt impossible. I had to try and hoist myself up anytime I wanted to get off the couch or from a low sitting position. My legs weren’t working. I often had to lift them up or position them where I wanted them.

I did take two laps around the block (at separate times). They were very slow and laborious. I’m sure that anyone who saw me was wondering why a young woman was shuffling like an elderly person. But I figured I needed some movement to keep my muscles moving. I spent the day on my couch watching movies and reading.

On Monday I was still hurting but was functional enough to go to work and walk at a reasonable pace. On Tuesday I probably could have done a simple cardio workout like Cize or something, but I just didn’t want to get up. Exercise has been a struggle since my race. I find myself not wanting to do much of anything since there’s no plan I have to stick to. But I did wake up a few mornings this week, so I’m making some progress and trying to remember my love of running.

When people have asked, “How was it? Would you do another one?” I have lowered my eyes and shaken my head. I honestly can’t recommend a marathon to anyone. I know some people do one every weekend, and I just don’t know how that is enjoyable or sustainable. I think if I had met my goal time of 4:22, I would have been happier about all the time and sacrifice I put in—having achieved what I set out to do. Having invested 20 weeks and 101 hours and a lot of sweat, I don’t know if it was worth it. I don’t even really feel proud of myself because of how those last 6 miles went.

I think I’ll stick with half marathons because 12 weeks of training is more fun and doable. And it won’t impress people the way a marathon will, but it will still be work to reach that point again. 

A lot of amazing people have reached out and have been so supportive. They want me to pat myself on the back and remind me that I “did a freaking marathon.” And yeah. I did. I just am having trouble feeling enthusiastic about it, even almost two weeks later.

But I did it. And it’s worth documenting. And I know now more than ever that I can do hard things. 

And don't worry. I ordered my 26.2 sticker today.