Left to Arizona with DH(not running races yet because of Plantar Fasciitis) and training buddy Doberman (Sentry) on Friday. My sister and her 3 boys also headed to Arizona to spend the MLK weekend and watch the race.
Picked up Little Brother Thomas at the airport Saturday morning (he would be running also).
My first LOOPMEET at the EXPO....JennyRae. So happy to meet her. She has great energy and I loved being able to chat with her after reading all her Bloops.
Worried about the foot. The shoes just didn't feel good. Standing didn't feel good. Walking didn't feel good. Can't imagine how running would feel....not to mention, 26.2 miles. Had MANY MANY texting conversations with Wordquota (my biggest fan and mental coach) about how the foot knows it's Go-Time and that it's not like I sprung this on him. He needs to get his act together and do his job. Why? Why? At taper? Come on.
All day Saturday I was crazy nervous. I was so prepared to go fast. To go a best time. But the foot was not cooperating. It was tolerable, but was definitely aching.
Sunday morning. Up at 5:15. Bagel down. Water down. Banana down. In and out of the bathroom a million times. Head to the race. Met up with JennyRae. A great way to pass the time before the race chatting about her kiddos and future race plans. Headed to Corral 1 with my little brother.
National Anthem always makes me cry. This time it's cause I'm scared of what the next 26.2 will bring.
Race begins. Mile 1. Foot already is achy. Can I make it a 5k? I do. Feeling great otherwise. Legs. Breathing. All great. Right on pace.
10k is gone already. I start running with a couple of nice guys around mile 7. I was in some need of distraction. I always race alone, but today was different. I was struggling. I was fighting with myself so early in the race about what to do. Vern was from Canada. Age 39. His wife was running back behind us somewhere working to break 4 hours. Tim was from Tucson. Age 33. Mentioned I had gone to school at ASU (where we were headed on this marathon trek) and that I had been a swimmer there. Tim was a swimmer at Michigan State during the same time period. What are the chances? These two guys were amazing. Super encouraging. I told them about my foot. They helped me stay positive and strong. They also distracted me for nearly 10 miles. At mile 8, I saw DH and Sentry. I held out my hand for a high five from my husband and got a quick kiss on the hand from Sentry, the best dog ever.
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| I'm in yellow, Vern in blue and Tim in orange |
At mile 11, I was ready to quit. I could not put my right heel down at all. I was completely running on my toes. The pain was intense. I'm not a quitter. I'm a determined, self-driven competitor. But I was thinking about quitting. 15 miles to go and I couldn't put my heel down. My midfoot strike is pretty good but I knew I'd be toast without being able to push off with my heel. After about 3/4 of a mile it all the sudden went back to the persistent pain that proceeded the intense one. I let the pace slow. As long as I stayed under 8:00m/m pace then I would post a PR.
We headed past Camelback mountain and then had a little out and back that was about 3 miles each way on Indian School into Scottsdale. So it ended up miles 13-19 that we could see those ahead of us headed back and those behind us when we were headed out. Around 15 I saw my brother Thomas on his 17. He was killing it. Definitely holding his 6:30s as planned. This was a huge boost for me. He was having a great race. On his way to break that 3:00 barrier (his previous best was 3:06 missing Boston by 66 seconds). Around mile 16 we went through an aid station and Vern surged ahead of Tim and me. Then I saw JennyRae coming from the other way. Her headphones out, hollering and waving. Such a pick-me-up. I pushed on. Tim hung with me another mile or so and then he surged ahead. I started working to pass people. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn't. My pace was slowing but I was hanging under 8s. At mile 22.5 my sister and nephews were cheering. A huge boost. My 3 favorite little guys ever and my big sister. Cheering and holding a big New Mexico flag sign. Totally cool. I cried a little. Miles 22, 23, 24, 25 were all too slow (between 8:20-8:32). They were also hard. Mentally. Physically. Why am I doing this? I am never doing this again. It feels terrible. If I walk it will just take longer to finish and you've made it this far. So darn it, keep running. Many people were stopping, cramping in the hamstrings, dehydrated. More people then I've ever seen like this. Strong, abled, fit men...succumbing to dehydration in this dry Valley of the Sun. I pressed on. I could see Arizona State. I could picture the finish line. As long as I went under 9:00 on the last mile, I would PR. It hurt so bad. I managed an 8:05. I crossed the finish line in 3:28 (previous best was 3:30) and my brother was there waiting in the secure zone. He had posted a 2:59. I was so happy for him. I was happy for us.
I couldn't walk...very well. I got my finisher medal and chugged a water. Then I leaned on a huge trashcan full of water bottles...it was a great site I'm sure. Probably looked like I was going to puke in it. I grabbed two more waters and we walked about 10 feet. I wanted to sit for a minute. There was a curb...looked great. It was right in front of the medical tent. They were so nice. "Can we get you anything? Ice? Gatorade?" She helped me sit on the curb and got me a drink. They were also very calm and quiet. Not all bubbly and annoying and excited. I needed calm. I needed gentle. We sat a minute then got a finisher photo together. Me and my little brother....how did we get to this point as adults? A marathon is a special thing. To share each one with my little brother (and husband up to this point) is powerful. I got a Jamba Juice and laid my head on a big recycling bin (another wonderful photo opportunity could've been here). It felt good. That recycling bin was my friend for a minute or two. We kept going. This secure zone was really long...felt like a mile. Got out and looked to the stadium where we were supposed to meet DH. He had seen me at the finish but I didn't see him....WAY too many people so we had set up a meeting place. But the stadium was way too far. I looked around and every other person was on a cell phone. I asked someone to use theirs and called DH to meet us where we were. He came. We started the long, slow walk back to the car. I knew I had blisters from running funny. We got to the car, and back to the hotel. DH left with Sentry to the dogpark. Little brother headed to the hot tub. I laid on the bed and cried. My foot hurt. My whole body hurt. I took my shoes and socks off. Bruising. Discoloration. Swelling. All settling in. This wasn't good. I needed a shower and a nap and then I'd be all better. In the shower I wasn't feeling so good. After the shower, I was sitting in the bathroom and DH and Little Brother both returned. DH asked if he could use the bathroom and I stood up (as much as I could on my one good foot) and told him he'd probably have to wait....right at the end of the sentence I puked.
Guess I'd pushed pretty hard. Guess I needed more food. Guess I might be in a little shock. No idea.
I ate a banana. And had a bunch of water. I bypassed the nap, we hopped in the car and headed to Smash Burger where I ate a big Bacon Burger with Avocado and a pile of sweet potato fries. My sister and nephews met up with us. 2 hours after the race, my foot looked like this:
Went to the doctor today. After poking and prodding, he though it might be a stress fracture so he took some X-rays. He got 3 really great photos (it was cool to see my own foot bones on the screen). No breaks. But what the X-ray did show was a lot of inflammation...a darker color...very thick across that whole area. He said lots of ice, stretching and rest and I should be good to go. I just stressed out that attachment big time which stressed out the fascia bands underneath (that eventually hook up with the Plantar Fascia). He said I could swim or bike or do other stuff to stay active but that I should take a week or so off running (I planned on doing that anyway). So I will see how I feel in a week but I'm tentatively planning to take 2 weeks off to be safe. Either way, I'm going to wait until the pain is completely gone from that area. The funny part is that my entire foot is VERY VERY chubby. Looking at my foot, you'd think I weighed about 250. I can't see my toe tendons at all so hopefully that swelling goes down soon as I can't really wear shoes (and it's freezing outside).
So now I can actually post this as good news knowing that I didn't completely ruin myself by running this race.
A few race photos:
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| Me and Little Brother |
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