That's a good title for this post. I certainly felt rather close to death during a few moments earlier this week.
On Monday, I ran 26.2 miles and it was pretty darn awful.
I was quite surprised by just how terrible I felt from mile 15 onward. My 20 mile training run went rather well, so I wasn't prepared for just how horrible 26.2 could feel.
My guesses for what contributed to a not-so-great experience:
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Weather. 50 degrees is good running weather, but when you've been training in the frigid Massachusetts winter, 50 degrees feels hot. So hot, in fact, that while I was running I was continuously surprised to see people wearing sweatshirts and coats. I kept wondering why the spectators were so bundled up.
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Hunger. I ate a ton during all of the waiting that occurs between getting ready at 6am and actually running at 11, but it still wasn't enough. I was really looking forward to the bagels at the athlete's village, but they ran out fast. I missed that bagel the whole way from Hopkinton to Copley Square. I didn't use the gels because I'd never used them during training and I didn't want to do something new in the middle of a marathon. (But note to self for future long runs). I didn't feel hungry during the last half of the race, but apparently I got super pale and my coach told me to eat something ASAP when he saw me at the finish line.
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Exhaustion. This was perhaps not the greatest time in my life to run my first marathon. I won't go through all of the activities going on during spring semester of my Senior year, but taking six classes and preparing for a thesis defense followed by moving to Jordan after graduation and finding a job was all
a bit much to take on and I didn't fit in as many early morning training runs as I should have. Furthermore, 8 days before the marathon, my father sustained a traumatic brain injury in a bike accident. The week prior to the marathon was chaotic. I had classes, problem sets, thesis meetings, thesis edits, a flight home, a medically induced coma, a Code C, ICU, a flight back to Boston on Sunday, and running on Monday. Oy. We were instructed to relax the weekend before in order to be well rested on Marathon Monday. I was the opposite of that.
I guess it's not worth being disappointed about my time. Given the circumstances, I think I'll settle for being happy that I finished, happy that I had no medical problems, and happy that my father is now out of ICU.
Overall, I am glad that I did it. It's been fun to peek into the clique that is marathon running. Just as others told me would happen, I went from moments of thinking,
I am never doing this again, to planning my next marathon shortly after completing the first. Despite my shorts that are bloodstained from chaffing, my shoes that are bloodstained, my toenail that has fallen off and the other that is soon to follow, and my ache-filled limp, I
do want to run a marathon again. Mostly to have a better experience than the first. You know, Dubai hosts one in January...
