There is something sensational and horrific about accomplishing a goal. I set a goal I knew was within my grasp, but far enough ahead of me to where I did not have to worry about reaching it and moving beyond it for a couple of years, then suddenly those years were up.
I finished my 35th marathon on July 27th, 2014. I can’t believe it happened, but I know it did, I was there. I was grossly appreciative of how painful an experience it was from before the start to after the finish. Actually, that may be a bit dramatic, but it was a difficult experience. I can still taste every mile, I wasn’t myself that day, or maybe I was actually my true self, stripped of the fast running facade that had fleeced my persona the last eighteen months, I am not sure I even know yet who I was that day? I do know that it was not who I wanted to be, I felt bad, I ran slow, I was passed by thousands of runners, yet for some sick reason I am happy it went down the way it did. I needed to be humbled by the marathon.
I flew up to Oakland on Saturday morning; I took the BART for the first time over to the city, and chatted it up with a mother/daughter SoCal half marathon running duo that were in town to run the race. I did not mention the marathon would be my 35th, and as such the culmination of a 2.5 year quest of self-preservation and motivation. However, I did share that I was running the marathon. I was excited about the course this time around because we would be running over the Golden Gate Bridge, a new addition since my first stint in 2003, and a real treat for any native Californian, or citizen of the world for that matter.
I exited at the Embarcadero stop, grabbed some fuel from Noah’s bagels and started my walk down to the race expo being held at Fort Mason where I would meet up with my sister Sarah; she was running the race, too. Sarah mentioned that it was a pretty long walk, and that I should probably take a cab, but I wanted to stretch my legs and enjoy my mini-vaca weekend, so I said I would be fine. Cut to 20 minutes later and I flagged down a pedi-cab, the bicycle cabbies, and sat back to enjoy the ride to Fort Mason as a true tourist. The expo was an absolute madhouse, but I met up with Sarah just fine, and met one of her friend’s Erin, who was an Ambassador for the race, and would also be running it. Sarah and I sauntered back to her car along the strand next Crissy Field, and it felt wonderful to actually talk to someone who cared about me, and I could be honest with. Marion was still in China, and I was living on an island at home, so this time with Sarah was so delicious I wanted to both slurp it up quickly, and savor it soundly because it would need to hold me over for a while. We chilled at her house for a few hours doing the glamorous tasks of runners such as foam rolling, or softball rolling in my case, while drinking water and prepping for a pre-race feast with her two friends name Erin, the previously mentioned race Ambassador, and a carbon copy of one of best friends from college, Annie, but every bit these girls was absolute gold. We made pancakes and pasta, shared running and life stories, and goals for the race. I have to admit that my goals were not very ambitious, I was not feeling in top form after the previous four weeks which included Ragnar, and the June Lake Half Ironman, but I felt that competitive burn to aim for at least 3:30. Ambassador Erin treated us to a white bracelet which gave us access to the Ambassador tent, which was exactly the VIP treatment I was looking for the finale of my quest, I did not expect it, but certainly did not it turn down. We all said our “good byes”, and “good lucks”, and then the Erin’s were off in an Uber out into the San Francisco night.
The Kelly/Fox sisters were in bed by 8PMish, I think I was asleep by 9:30PM, and we were up and at ‘em by 3AM. I was aware of my body, and it did not feel as light and gingerly as usual; however, I was more excited to be sharing this wonderful experience with Sarah, I had a feeling she would be running a very special race. We headed toward the aforementioned Ambassador’s tent where we chatted and chilled with the Erin’s and other happy runners underneath the illuminated Bay Bridge. The bridge’s lights were still on, because the sun was not up, yep, another 5:30A start time, bring it!
We started in in different waves, I was about two minutes ahead of the girls, but when the gun went off, so did my expectations for the day, I did not feel good. I was moving at my usual early miles sub 7:30min. per mile pace, but I just felt out of sync, tired, and annoyed that there were no clear mile markers set up, grr. Yes, I have a Garmin, but I still prefer a large sign letting me know I am making progress. The first few miles were littered with short steep hills, I trudged up them confidently, but everyone else must have felt better about themselves because runners were flying by me in droves, I felt like I was stuck in second gear while they were flying up to fifth. When I finally let myself look at my watch it read 5miles, that was a shock, those first five miles flew by, whew, maybe I was not as far off my usual self as I thought?
The next four to five miles took us over the Golden Gate Bridge, which was everything I hoped it would be. I finally felt strong, and found my groove, then I saw Sarah and “Annie” Erin on my way back over to the city. They both looked awesome, calm, cool and collected. Luckily, I still felt good at that point, so I probably looked good to them, too, but then we climbed a big hill leading into Golden Gate Park over mile ten and then flew down a long steep downhill on the other side which was nice, I love downhill’s, but once we hit the flats again around mile eleven, everything changed. I was thrilled to see ambassador Erin fly past me up a neighborhood hill, for about three seconds I thought I would catch up to her, nope.
The next two and a half hours were filled with slow running, measly expectations, and overflowing gratitude. I never allowed myself to be sad and disappointed at how my body had finally tapped out. I should be spent, on my BEST day, on ANYONE’S best day, marathons are hard. This race should be hard, today, and every other day, in shape or not, 26.2 miles is a long way to run, and I had been blessed to be running it for the 35th time, how could I not be feeling anything but thankful at the many gifts this race had given me? I smiled and accepted that the marathon was teaching me a lesson, and feeding me humble pie instead of GU, I needed it, and even wanted it. “The marathon saved me, in every way a runner can be saved.”
I experienced the best “pass” ever by a fellow runner around mile 21, Sarah passed me looking great, and I waved her on with a pain induced prideful smile, she was crushing it! I finally found my legs again around mile 24, just enough time for me to enjoy the last 2 miles of this race, and the final leg of my quest to run 35 marathons by the time I turned 35. Once again the San Francisco marathon would prove to be a pivotal race in my journey, it was 11 years earlier to the day that I first broke 4 hours and believed I could actually run marathons for real, and the Boston qualifier seed was planted. I am happy to report that have run many fast marathons, a few slow ones, and the secret is that they were all equally wonderful. A finish line, is a finish line, no matter how long it takes to get there, crossing over it never gets old.
Congratulations on reaching your goal! And thanks for taking us along with you on your journey. :)
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