The Real Race
26.2 in the books. Well, on Strava.
To be so honest, the race itself was HARD. The last 5 miles were torture. Running across the finish line I couldn’t feel my legs. Like that movie scene where the fading runner can’t hear anything but a distant rumble of cheers and a few heart beats, unaware of anything else.
Four hours of running later, there was blood on my inner thighs (oops, girl stuff) and chaffing on my inner arms and torso from my hydration vest. My stomach demanded I never eat a single Gel ever again. Headache was a 9/10. And those pictures.. my god. I was humbled. I couldn’t walk normally for the next 4 days.
Traveling to Long Beach for the Marathon left me with a not so nice dent in my bank account along with a purple medal that established I was a finisher.
My training block of over 4 months had me feeling like both an Olympic athlete and a total disaster. I recall a 9 mile run that felt like cake and a 2 mile run that left me crying in my car. Some mornings started at 4:30 am to hit the treadmill before clocking into work and many nights sleep came around midnight.
Injuries, stomach upsets, body changes, sock science, hydration, recovery, food intake, fueling, coffee, bleeding feet, gear, CARB LOADING, time management – all of it was trail by error. Scars on my belly and chest along with a peramanalty damaged toe nail forever prove it. Shout out to Runna, my AuDHD brain thanks you.
Morning of the race, I found myself with shaky hands struggling to pin my bib onto my shorts. Looking into the bathroom mirror, the big emotions surfaced. Since the summertime I had completed 650 miles solo. I learned, struggled, crashed and finished on my own. The largest monster was slain. I had already won.
When I clicked purchase to run this marathon, I did it to reclaim my identity – I’m someone who shows up. Someone who shows up with its dark, when I’m tired, under the hot sun, and especially when I don’t want to. I got me. As a 31 year old female looking to rebrand her life, I just needed to know that no matter what direction I pivot to or what does or doesn’t happen, I got me. I will not fall apart and the world doesn’t end even when it feels like it. Pain is just pain and discomfort is something to lean into. Success is whatever it means to me, and I’m low key slightly cooler now.
This was the real race.
For anyone considering running a Marathon or training for one, I only have a few words of wisdom. Skip the Coca Cola flavored Gel. Trust me.
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