Cellcom Green Bay Marathon

The morning began with a flurry of excitement.  All three of our alarm clocks failed to wake us and I woke up rested to sunlight filling the room.  We rushed to get ready and I ate my breakfast on the road to the start line.  I don’t like being rushed and took a few moments in the start corral relaxing myself.  Deep breath, Karen.  You made it.  We had a moment of silence for the Boston Marathon victims and then we were off.  The first few miles felt warm and oppressive.  California has made me so much stronger with its consistent weather, but running in anything but those conditions is difficult without being acclimated. 

In Matt’s pep talk the night before, he talked about the forecast and although it looked eerily similar to the conditions that forced cancellation of last year’s event, he told me to go for my goal anyway.  “You’re really great at sweating, so you’ll be better acclimated than most anyway.”  It was almost 70F with 80% humidity at the 7am start.

I tried to run with the 3:35 pacer, but he took off at something like a 3:25 pace and dropped the entire group.  I found the group of people he had left behind, running closer to the right pace.  By mile 8, my legs felt hollow and my body was cold, covered in goosebumps and I felt overworked.  Before last year’s race, I did some research on signs of heat illness and how to adjust goals to finish safely.  I knew that if I kept up at the intensity level I was at, it would not be pretty.

As much as I didn’t want to give up the goal I feel like I’ve been chasing forever, I knew it was the right decision.  I know how to run smart races, unfortunately for today it was to slow down.  Then I moved onto a different goal: celebrating 10 years of running. 

My thoughts drifted to my beginnings as a runner in this beautiful little city.  How fortunate I was to have the opportunity to celebrate it in such a fitting way.  If 18 year old Karen were standing on the sidelines and she saw me run by, what would she think?  Would she believe that I’d be running twice as far and so much faster? 

At mile 11, the half and full courses split.  As usual, they had many signs and a man with a microphone on the scissor-lift giving verbal directions.  “Here’s your last chance, full marathoners!” he called out, letting us know that we could decide to run the half instead.

Shortly after that, two men called out to me.  “Hey Sweaty Runner Girl, you look about as wet as we do!”  I explained that I’d been really warm and dumped water all over me and it wasn’t all sweat.  Then he suggested something I hadn’t considered: carrying ice cubes in my hands to help me cool off.  My hands were swollen and burning so the ice cube idea sounded fantastic.  I stopped at the next aid station, the halfway point, and patiently waited while the volunteer brought me a cup of cubes from a cooler.  Half the cup went into my bra, as I’d done last year, and I split the last few cubes between both hands.  It immediately made a difference, I continued this for the remainder of the race.

I turned on my iPod at mile 15, just before we entered DePere.  From that point on, I ran easy and happy, with a huge grin on my face.  As we moved north along the Fox River Trail, I high fived little kids, laughed at the signs (“Smile if you’re not wearing any underwear” and “Naked portion begins here!”), as well as reactions of the people holding them.  I love how this marathon makes me feel so welcome, like every spectator is there for me personally.  I haven’t run a marathon yet that matches this hometown feel, but that might be skewed given my entirely biased opinion.

One of the biggest differences I noticed between this year and last year were the runner reactions.  Last year, the cancellation got ugly in a very public way.  The blame was rightfully placed with the individual runners.  Your personal safety is always your responsibility.  I think that was a big lesson many of these runners learned last year.  Many runners stopped to walk well before the halfway point, last year it was only those in medical tents.  Many more were walking or taking breaks in the shade from mile 16 onward.  Everyone can finish if they are smart, it seemed like most people were doing just that.  I saw only one ambulance the entire day.

The aid station shortly after mile 21 had a shower rigged up on a ladder.  I grabbed two Gatorades, a water and some ice and stood underneath it, watching other runners pass.  The icy water was incredible and salt washed from my dry skin.  “Mind if I join you?” another runner asked.  I agreed, joking with him about whether I should tell my husband about showering with another guy.  I continued on running and noticed how strong I felt.  Just as what happened last year, I learned what amount of water and ice I needed to keep feeling good and the second half felt the best.  My form felt strong and breathing calm.  I began passing people, reaffirming my decision to take it easy so early on.  I wasn’t paying for stubbornly adhering to my goal.  One of the aid stations handed me a ziplock bag of ice and I rubbed it on my arms and face as I ran along.  I refilled it every two miles and drizzled the water over my head when it melted.  It was as effective as the frozen sponges I had used in last year’s race.

At mile 21.5, I met my mom and sister.  I was already 15 minutes late for when I said I’d be there and they asked what happened.  “Too hot.  Can’t do it.”  I said.  As much as I wanted to BQ today, I think my mom wanted to be there to see me do it as much.  Of course she understood about the weather, but it made me a little sad.  “You’ll have to come spectate my next one then,” I suggested.

The remainder of the race, while other runners were fading, I picked it up a little bit.  Most spectators commented on my smile and how strong I looked.  I don’t usually get this in a marathon.  I’m usually a crumpled mess of grrrrrrrrrrrrrr.  The root beer aid station at mile 23 is always my favorite, a nice change from the usual Gatorade.  I always have to be sure they don’t hand me a beer there.

In the last ten miles, I passed nearly 200 people despite my prolonged aid station stops waiting for ice cubes.  In a race of about 1500 finishers, that is a lot.  Finally, we entered Lambeau Field.  The air conditioning was blowing through the player tunnel to the field and for the first time that day, it felt comfortable to run.  Emerging from the darkened tunnel onto the field, my happy grin turned to a full blown crazy person smile.  I don’t think I could possibly smile any bigger. 

I slowed to take the moment in, this race was awesome.  It far exceeded the expectations I had today.  I never gave up mentally and it was pure fun.  Since my next road marathon won’t be until after Boston registration closes, I will not be running Boston 2014.  I may feel differently in a few days when I process that fact, but for now I’m okay with it.  In seasons past, I’ve held back at my club’s small races for the sake of training for the marathon.  This year, I decided to race all of them.  Even though the marathon didn’t go as planned, I still had fantastic spring season.  Heck, I even won a race!  Eventually I will get nice weather to coincide with marathon day and I will surprise myself.  Until then, we’re moving on.  Trail running season begins this weekend.  I’m pretty excited about that.

4:00:39
9:11/mi.
F 25-29: 15/110
Overall: 400/1508 
(When I ran this race in 2010, I was 50th in my age group with a time 5 min. faster than that.  Sometimes when conditions are tough, the only measure of your performance is the placing.  I'm very happy with 15th.)