When I think of the marathons I’ve run, a few moments play in my mind like a highlight reel. These are strong, vibrant moments that likely won’t fade as time goes one. For example…
Marine Corps Marathon, Oct. 2014. I remember watching a paratrooper jump out of an airplane and land near the start line. I remember standing in the shadow of the rebuilt Pentagon, crying and shaking, remembering 9/11 but so grateful to be making new memories there. I remember running along George Washington Parkway, and looking over at the hillside lined with men peeing (I was jealous, to be honest!) I remember cursing and crying as I ran up that final (and unexpected!) hill at the finish, only to be given dozens of high fives by uniformed servicemen and women as I hurtled towards the finish line. I remember the weight of that beautiful medal on my chest. It’s still my favorite medal 🙂
NYC, November 2015. I remember the sheer panic at the ferry terminal, feeling like a (short) cow being taken away for slaughter! So. Many. People. I was afraid I’d be trampled to death! I remember hearing dozens of different languages at the start line. I remember running through all of the different and unique neighborhoods of Brooklyn-the raucous Hispanic neighborhood and the colorful Indian neighborhood (both smelled SOOOO GOOD!) And the reserved Jewish neighborhood, smelling of clean laundry, streets lined with quiet and curious children who would half-raise a hand and wave. And then there was the Bronx, smelling of beer and cigarettes, people already celebrating the World Series game that would be played later in the day.
NYC, November 2017. I remember listening to two men speaking Italian on the ferry ride over to Staten Island. While I don’t speak their language, their faces said it all. They were thrilled to be in America, in awe as they stared at Lady Liberty, a symbol of home and acceptance. . I had a very good spot on the ferry, but moved and motioned for them to take my spot, knowing that they may not have the chance to see it again. They were very grateful! Grazie, grazie! I remember feeling so amped running through Brooklyn, with the amazing crowd support, then looking down at my watch, realizing I was going waaaay too fast! I remember running down a hill in Brooklyn, with rain mixing with tears, arms raised high, so grateful to have another opportunity to run in this amazing city. I remember the terrible diaphragm cramp that slowed my down to practically a crawl at mile 22, but finding the grit to keep going. Head down, arms pumping, wheels on.
As much as these moments stick out in my mind years later, I’m always amazed at how much I have already forgotten when I go back and read the race recaps I’d written! That’s why I love to write these race reports-as much as I love that other people may read them, I really write them for myself. I want to remember as much as I can about these days as I possibly can.
Chicago, October 2018.
The day started early with a 4:30am wake up after a short but restful sleep. We quickly dressed, and after triple checking that I had everything, we left on foot for the L station by 5am. It was drizzling just a bit, but nothing notable. Of course by the time we got off the train on van Buren Ave, it was a good, solid, steady rain. And so cold. And here I was worried about the day being too hot! All I could think about was a big, giant cup of coffee, and none of the Dunkin’ Donuts were open yet! We ducked into a storefront doorway on Michigan Ave. and waited for one to open at 6. I chugged some coffee, ate a Lenny and Larry’s protein cookie (so flippin’ good!) and made our way across the street to snap a couple of pictures before I started off for the security check at the gate.
It was probably only a few minutes, but it seemed to take forever to pass through security and then bag check. By then I was in a bit of a panic as I looked at the port-a-potty lines, because, well, the coffee had run right through me, but all was well. In true pre-race fashion, I got out of one port-a-potty and got into another port-a-potty line 🙂 I was really panicked by this point because I only had a few minutes to change my shoes, eat my pre-race fuel, stuff my flip belt with all I needed, and get to bag check. I literally ran to the start corral, and made it in at 7:43 (it closed at 7:45). Aaand I really felt like I could use another port-a-potty but there was no way I was leaving the corral, because then I’d have to start with the next wave of runners. The start line was crowded and exciting, lots of people snapping pictures, making phone calls, sending texts. As we looked ahead, we saw the beautiful Chicago skyline disappearing into a thick layer of fog, and it started raining. By the time I reached the start line, it was about 8:15 and I was ready and raring to go! After a few deep breaths and a quick prayer for safety for the runners, I started my watch as I crossed the start line.
The first couple of miles are always quite slow and honestly can be a little frustrating. I dodged runners who were taking selfies, making phone calls, texting or posting or something. I cranked the volume on my trusty iPod shuffle as I listened to the same song for the first 2 or 3 miles (Never One Thing by May Erlewine) as I navigated my way through the sea of runners. I looked down at my watch at mile 2 and knew it wasn’t accurate. At mile marker 2, it read 2.42 miles, and said I was running a 16ish minute pace. Huh?!?! Next time I looked down it said a 7ish minute pace. Luckily I had a 4 hour pacing temporary tattoo from the expo on my forearm, so at every mile marker I would check my split to see if I was on track. By mile 5, I was about a minute ahead of pace so I was glad to have a bit of leeway in case things went south at the end. I was also a little concerned that I was going out too fast but strangely kept the pace going.
I chugged along, like the Little Engine That Could, dutifully eating my Jelly Belly Sports Beans every 45-60 minutes, and taking water or gatorade from probably every third water station. I enjoyed the rain, as the cloud cover and breeze helped keep my body cool. At one point, it was a full on downpour, and I threw my arms up in the air and laughed, feeling so dang good! You know me, I love a good rainy run! I always run on the right, and passed hundreds of spectators, many with hands out for high fives. I swear those high fives contain crazy amounts of energy! Better then Gu, that’s for sure! I shouted back several times “you guys are awesome!” because really, there’s nothing like strangers cheering you on for miles and miles, making you feel like you’re Wonder Woman or Super Girl!
Along the way, spectators passed out a variety of things-kleenex, baby wipes, pretzels, orange slices, bananas, candy, donut holes, even coffee. I passed on most of them, but to the guy that was passing out little cups of gummi bears at mile 14ish!? Yeah, you’re my hero! They were just what this sugar-loving girl needed at that moment.
I saw Doug and our friend Stuart twice, although I couldn’t tell you when! I actually saw them first before they saw me–it helped that Stuart was wearing a bright red jacket, and Doug had his ginormous camera in front of him.
I was cruising along really well, each mile just as fast as the one before, and I was feeling good. My breathing was steady, my legs felt strong, my form was solid, and my energy was up (love those cherry flavored sports beans!) Each song was spot on, filling my mind with positive thoughts and memories to keep going. As the miles went on, I knew I was ahead of pace by a few minutes and thought I might even finish ahead of goal pace, maybe even 3:55. More time goes on and I thought, jeez, I may make 3:50! Part of me was nervous about running so much faster than my goal pace but I left caution at the door and just ran with it.
And then…mile 22. There’s always something about mile 22. Seems to get me every time. I was hurting…so bad. But I told myself, four miles left! This is like the bridge run! A run you’ve done dozens, if not hundreds, of times! You can do this! Run to your bridge. On the plus side, my breathing was solid, I wasn’t cramping anywhere, and my energy was up. As long as I’m breathing well, I’m okay running through pain and muscle fatigue. That’s part of the training-running on sore and tired legs. My hips were on fire, my feet aching, my hamstrings tight, my right knee throbbing. Even my arms and core hurt, so I knew I was really using my whole body for this run. I felt my form slipping a bit, leaning far too forward, hunching, and thought maybe slowing down would help. Nope. If anything, I knew it would only prolong the pain. So I kept pace as much as possible, although too be honest I wasn’t looking at my watch much.
At mile 23, I seriously considered stopping to use the port-a-potty but knew I would have a very hard time moving again after stopping, so I kept going. At mile 24, I remember telling myself, out loud, “you can do anything for 20 minutes. Trust your training.” I turned off my music, tucked my iPod into my flip belt, and dug in deep. I let the shouts of the crowd power me through those last difficult miles, feeling that powerful, positive energy course through my veins and anesthetize my pain. I was on autopilot at this point, doing all I could to keep upright as my form was failing me.
At mile 25, I did some quick math and thought I might run a 3:45 if I could get a last, fast mile. Part of me thought that my watch must be wrong, there’s no way I’m that far ahead of my goal. I knew I’d hae to run about an 8 minute mile. I weaved my way through the thick and slowing sea of runners, many of whom were walking by this point, with only one thing on my mind. Keep going. You can collapse once you cross the finish line. I knew I couldn’t give anything less than my all or I would be disappointed in myself, and my heart held tight to that thought.
I saw the finish line and heard the announcer as I approached, and dug in even deeper. I don’t even remember the crowds at this point, my head was fuzzy and I felt wobbly all over. I knew I just had to cross the finish line, and then I could fall or pass out, but not before that. My legs were on fire by this point but I didn’t care, knowing by the time on my watch that I had done far better than I set out to. Like most runners, I raised my arms as I approached the finish, but quickly remembered to stop my watch (I usually forget!) My watch read 3:45:02 and I was stunned. I couldn’t believe it, but when I turned on my phone and saw congratulatory texts and updates from friends and family, with a time of 3:45:00, I was shocked and so so happy! Every race, you have to find the balance between playing it safe and giving it your all, and I knew early on that I didn’t want to play it safe.
Once I crossed the finish line, my legs were in agony. Tight and spasming a bit, each step hurt, but I knew I needed to keep going or risk not being able to move. Slowly but surely, my head became clearer and my body more solid. I chugged a bottle of water and immediately started crying, drawing the concern of a volunteer who asked if was okay. I wiped a tear away and said, “yes, I’m fine, just really emotional!” He congratulated me and went about his business. I grabbed all the food I could, even a beer, and made my way, very slowly, to the athlete’s village near Buckingham Fountain
At the fountain, a Japanese man took my picture, and I took his. He didn’t speak English and I didn’t speak Japanese, but that’s okay, we made it work. I sat by the fountain and ate SO MUCH FOOD. I’m usually not very hungry after a long run but this was different. Sun Chips, a giant Gatorade protein bar, pretzels, a protein drink…I couldn’t get enough. I was feeling so happy and so grateful, but almost in disbelief, beyond thrilled to have PR’d and to have done so by so much more than I imagined, But I was even more thrilled to have such a perfectly round number of 3:45:00! I mean, who does that!?!? Oh, I do! That, my friends, was the whipped cream AND the cherry on top of an absolutely amazing day. Thank you to all of you for your support, encouragement, motivation, and messages of congratulations. I couldn’t have done it without you.
All my love,
Corrie
XOXO
thevankampens 