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.)
