My 1/2 Marathon
by Mary Lobbestael
Inspired by my dear friend Jennie (fabulous blogger and elite runner) and an acute case of laryngitis, I am putting pen to paper (well, fingers to keyboard as it turns out) to share my first 1/2 marathon story. Fittingly, the story is a bit lengthy.
For those of you who followed my training, you know that things didn't go so smoothly. And by not so smoothly I mean my main goal the week before the race was simply to stay out of the friggin’ hospital.
My boss commented last week that I am a linear thinker (which I, of course, took as a compliment at the time). So appropriately, I am going to tell this story chronologically – starting with the beginning of the best worst month of my life.
September 9, 2008 – Fractured thumb
I wish I had a remarkable tale to report for this, my first "in training” injury. But alas, I simply (and stupidly) slammed my thumb in a car door while in New York for work. Of course, post-injury I thought of scads of much more interesting NYC-based stories involving crime on the MTA blue line, drunken self defense in the Meatpacking District, or The Day After Tomorrow–type freak flood. But, as so often is the case in my life, reality is simply not that juicy. Did I mention the car was a Buick?
Runner Mary: 0, Injured Mary: 1
September 11, 2008 – Wisdom teeth extraction
Ok, I know what you are thinking... What joker schedules oral surgery the month before her first race? Well friends, no decision I make happens without thorough contemplation. Here's a peek into the mind of a linear over-thinker:
August – too busy enjoying the dwindling days of Michigan summer to schedule surgery. Plus I didn’t want to seem too anxious to have my impacted molars ripped from my skull.
October – race month, clearly not an option.
November – loads of work travel and my first and only, much needed vaca for the year -- Coasta Rica! (Note: I did seriously contemplate the strong “diet” value of dental surgery. Who wouldn’t want to shed a few pounds before…. gasp… getting into a bathing suit in November? Although a very strong case could be made for pre-vaca extraction, the thought of any complications or swollen cheeks impacting my booze-induced fun in the sun was much too daunting – November was out.)
December – let's be honest, waiting for December just seemed a bit risky given the state of the auto market (can you say pink slip?). No job, no dental, no dice.
Alas, I was left but with one month – coincidentally my favorite of the year – September. I wasn’t crazy about spending any part of my b-day month (yes, I celebrate the entire month) doped up and in pain, but my hands were tied. So, after eliminating work travel dates, my birthday weekend, and checking with Nurse Jenn’s schedule, I landed on September 11.
And although scheduling the abovementioned extraction was my own choice, the subsequent infection was not. Two total weeks with zero miles logged.
Runner Mary: 0, Injured Mary: 2
In an equally unplanned maneuver, I accidentally OD’d on Vicodin and Aleve during my recovery phase. (And for the record: Who knew that Aleve was not the same as Advil?!!?!) Sweet Jesus, my liver still hasn’t forgiven me.
Runner Mary: 0, Injured Mary: 3
September 29, 2008 – Shin splints
Those who have experienced them would undoubtedly agree that shin splints are the quintessential kiss of death for runners. They can end your training faster than wine disappears on Girls Night. For those of you lucky enough not to be unfamiliar with this sort of pain, it’s like a zillion little swords slashing at your shins every time your foot extends to the ground. And it doesn’t matter if you have taken the necessary precautions – anti inflammatories, icing, stretching, resting. Shin splints are selfish cruel little bastards who don’t care that you have done everything human to exclude them – all they care about is crashing your running party and staying until the beer is gone.
Runner Mary: 0, Injured Mary: 4
October 9, 2008 – Hit by truck
Seriously. While running at my customary (well lit) 6am time frame in Ferndale, I was plowed over by an old dude who was too friggin’ clueless to even realize there was a blonde girl in the intersection he was rolling through. Ok, technically I didn’t get plowed over – it was more like bumped into. Again, reality may not be as juicy as the headline, but candidly – getting hit by a 4,000 pound truck at the crack of dawn didn’t result in major physical injury, but it left quite a mark on my psyche.
Runner Mary: 0, Injured Mary: 5
October 13, 2008 – Upper respiratory infection
In the immortal words of Lt. Kaffee (A Few Good Men)... “And the hits just keeping on coming.” Waking up – unable to breathe or swallow properly – the Monday before the race was a relief. Seriously. This was the final straw. This tipped the scales. Whatever stubborn, harebrained thoughts of racing on Sunday that were still swimming around in my pea brain were quickly exterminated. How could one be expected to run 13 miles when one couldn’t make it to the bathroom without fainting?
And for those of you keeping track – our tally stands at:
Runner Mary: 0, Injured/Fractured/Infected/Hit/Sick Mary: 6
October 16, 2008 – D Day
Thanks to a few dear friends (and I am not talking about the blow sunshine up your a$ kinda friends; I’m talking about those motivational ones who’d just as soon kick your a$ than see you give up on yourself) – I realized that even with a few speed bumps in the road (who am I kidding - these were more like spike strips) sometimes you just have to try. Their motivating words resonated loudly in my head…
Forget about the race. It’s just a long run.
This is just your victory lap.
Just make it happen.
So with the imminent possibility of recording the worst 13 mile run in the history of the world and living with the subsequent embarrassment, I chose to run. Runner Mary down by 6 and I chose to run.
And in what can only be described as a runner’s Hail Mary pass, I scheduled my very first chiropractic appointment for the Friday before the race. I had reliable sources that said getting adjusted could help ease shin pain. To tell you the truth, I would have soaked my body in lime Jello if you told me it would help mitigate my shin pain.
October 19, 2008 – Race Day
Prerace: BENGAY, baby! I applied an entire tube. Shin splints be damned!
Mile 0 - 3: Head down. Ipod on. And then only my thoughts to keep me company…. “Damn there are a lot of people here, here’s hoping I don’t trip on someone… sweet Jesus it’s too late to turn back now… run your own race, Mary…run your own race…run your own race…run your own race…”
Mile 4 - 5: Trek across the Ambassador Bridge wasn’t nearly as scary as I thought it would be. Looking back, I wish I would have enjoyed the view a bit more, but alas I was too busy trying not to step on any fellow runners to look at the Detroit River. Oh, plus, I got a bloody nose. This was actually a good thing – made me feel like Rocky. I looked and felt like a total bad ass! Also, this eventually scared other runners away, which meant I didn’t have to worry about tripping on anyone. ☺ Unfortunately, I used almost half of my 26-tissue Kleenex allotment during this stretch.
Mile 6 - 8: Solid running through Canada. Overall, these were my best miles. Very serene and I felt like I had found my rhythm. In a move that I would regret about a mile later, I had Gu (energy gel) at about Mile 7.5.
Mile 8 - 9: The Tunnel run back to the USA… You may have heard about this – it is touted as the world’s only international underwater mile. What you probably haven’t heard about – the tunnel is about 97 friggin degrees and there’s absolutely zero circulation. And what’s more, given the infamous nature of this mile, they actually print out your mile time on your race certificate. That's particularly unfortunate since I got sick at the end of the tunnel – here’s hoping that they don’t note that on my certificate.
Mile 10 - 11: This random run through Detroit was much harder than I anticipated. And some jerky race ops guy found the only friggin hill in Detroit and routed us up it… Urg. Shortly thereafter I hit my proverbial wall. My pace slowed and I really had to focus just to keep my legs moving. The waves of nausea were coming much more frequently. The sword party had started to intensify in my shins and I started the mental countdown in my head… only 30 minutes to go…only 30 minutes to go…only 30 minutes to go.
Mile 12: Thank the dear lord for Jennie and Bruce. Seeing them after Mile 12 marker was as euphoric as seeing a “Half Off” sign at the Saks designer shoe salon. Jennie ran with me just long enough to impart some words of inspiration that, I kid you not, were the only thing that helped me run my remaining mile.
Mile 13: Ok, my avid movie watching really came back to bite me here. Yup, I have watched one too many sports movies, my friends. You know how at the end of any given race or athletic endeavor there seems to be some miraculous second wind that hits the protagonists on the home stretch? A second wind that is so powerful the underdog seems to simply float across the finish line? Well that is all crap. The final mile was the hardest mile I have ever run. Ever.
On a brighter note, I did finish to much fanfare. Not necessarily for me, but rather for Tetyana Byelovol - the women's marathon winner who finished just steps ahead of me. Yeah that's right... this Ukrainian twinkie ran 26.2 miles in the time it took yours truly to struggle through half that. Bet that bitch didn’t have shin splits. ;)
Final tally:
Runner Mary: 13, Injured Mary: 6
Video
You can watch me cross the finish line at the following website:
http://www.freep.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20081020/MULTI/81020020
➢ Click on the 2:33 – 2:43 tab
➢ My gun time was 2:35:20 (clock in center with yellow numbers)
➢ I’m in yellow shirt, blue shorts on the left side of screen
Anatomy of a Runner Thanks to Bruce, here’s a picture of me at Mile 12.
Special thanks go toJenn & Seth
Jennie & Bruce
Robb
Missy
Mandy
Jen
Linda
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