I once read in a book about someone who ran a marathon that said, "The first 10 miles was like a party!" At the time that I read that, I was sitting on the couch with ice on my knee. I slammed the book shut, and threw it across the room and thought, "Yea, right..."
Although I tried to hide it best I could, I can honestly say now that I have never doubted myself so much in my life as I did in the weeks leading up to this marathon.
The night of April 30th, 2010 brought little sleep for Brian and me.
May 1st, we were up at 4:15am chucking down breakfast and lacing up our running shoes. When we arrived in the city, I was so nervous. It was drizzling, and the other more experienced runners were stretching and jumping in place, looking as though they had done this a million times. I didn't know it then, but out of the some 30,000 people on that starting line, only around 5,000 would complete the full distance of the marathon. We were instructed to arrive at our "corrals" to start the race. Brian had been assigned to corral D and I to corral E based on the estimated time of arrival that we gave when we registered. Brian and I had planned to start and finish the race together so he bumped back to corral E with me. The gun went off, the people swelled forward and we were off. A live band sang as the runners sang along to the tune by Rare Earth..." I just want to celebrate..another day of livin'..."
We passed some of the walkers, and began at a slow and easy pace. The people cheered, the rain poured, the bands played, the cow bells clanked. Mile 1 went by, then 2, then 3... and I could hardly believe that I was barely breathing heavy. I could see thousands of people running in front of us, and thousands running behind us...and it occured to me, we were REALLY doing this! We were here, running, being a part of something that seemed outragious just a year ago. And although the rain poured down, I was enjoying myself, having a wonderful time doing somethng, that just a few weeks ago, took every bit off my energy and will.
Mile 5 greeted us with a killer hill that lasted 3 miles and I was worried that the marathon honeymoon was over.. Given my injury, hills are incredibly difficult. Knowing that we still had 21 miles to go, and not wanting to risk blowing the whole race with more injury.. we opted to speed walk up. But there's a beauty to hills.. they eventually go down. And going downhill felt like flying. I put my earphones in, and the beat to the song gave my feet the energy to go. Mile 9....10...11...Gatorade...water...songs...
Mile 13 ...my feet were starting to hurt...bad! I had stepped in a few puddles. My shoes and socks were completely soaked. You know when you stay in a pool for too long and your fingers and toes get all pruney? Well, the same thing happens to your feet when you run for miles in wet socks. And when the condition of your skin is compromised, along with the constant rubbing and impact of every single step you take, only one thing can happen. Blisters. Now, I'm not so naive as to think that I'd run a marathon and not have a blister or two, but I wasn''t expecting to bleed through bandages, two pairs of socks, and lose three toenails. Knowing I would be seeing our families in about 3 more miles, I knew Brian's mom, Mary Jayne, would be carrying a fresh pair of socks that I had given her the night before. I tried to just push on and think of anything else until then. But blisters are nasty creatures and tend to make it virtually impossible to forget them. I remembered a mantra that I adopted from my training book... over and over I repeated in my head "Mar-a-thon-er...Mar-a-thon-er". The four beats of the word found its way into every song that played on my ipod. It gave me peace.
Mile 15... Brian looked at me and said, "We should be seeing the kids soon..." As we entered the town that we agreed to meet our families and children, I was on high alert. I was petrified that we'd pass them by mistake, and I was already so tired and needed their smiling faces so badly. I scanned every cheering crowd for the familiar faces of our families with every step feeling like and effort. I heard the voice of my father-in-law, Dave, shout out, "There they are!" We turned a corner, and one by one, their faces appeared... my mother, my father, my sister, Mary Jayne, Dave, Maggie! To my right, a small child held out his hand for a high five... our youngest son, Jude. I grabbed him up and kissed his cheek as if I hadn't seen him in years. Next, was my sister, Sherri... by then I was sobbing, so happy to see her that I melted into her hug. In my ear, she kept repeating, "I'm so proud of you, I'm so proud of you!" My older son, Christopher, stood there looking somehow taller and more grown-up, he leaned in for a hug and although I was soaked with sweat and rain, he didn't pull away. Our oldest child, Lili, was holding a sign she had made herself and cheered on all the other runners, shouting things like, "Don't give up! You look fantastic in that outfit!" I can only imagine the smiles she inspired with her witty comments. I wrapped my arms around her and whispered, " I love you" in her ear. On down the line, I hugged my parents, both grinning from ear to ear! They both made a point to tell me they loved me, and again, I cried. I grabbled Brian's sister, Maggie, she felt so warm that I was almost jealous of how comfy she looked in her warm, dry sweatshirt! Being soaked to the bone, I immediately fantasized of a hot bath, and how I'd put on my fluffy sweatshirt at home when the race was over. Mary Jayne and Dave were both beaming with pride for Brian. I can still see the concern on Mary Jayne's face as she handed me the dry socks. My feet were a wreck and thank GOD for those socks! I was shaking so badly from all the excitement that my sister had to help me with my shoelaces. New socks on, and shoes on! All the while, Brian doctored up his blisters, thanked everyone, and we were off again. We said our good-bye's until we were all together again at the finish line. Although it seemed like a lengthy reunion, it took only a couple of minutes. Straight ahead was the 16 mile marker... we still had a long way to go.
We were both so pepped up from seeing our families that the next two miles were fairly easy. Soon, we were seeing the marker for mile 18. My feet, at that point,were bleeding again from the blisters on my heel and we made a quick stop for more bandages. The next few miles were long and hard. No spectators, no signs, no cheers. Again, I put in my earphones, and thought of my mantra. Mar-a-thon-er, Mar-a-thon-er... I even ate an energy gel. Let me tell ya, those things are awful.
Mile 20... fatigue. Demons. Sore feet. It's at this point that everything hurts, darkness sets in and a runner starts to feel like the light at the end of the tunnel still looks pretty damn far off. Six more miles feels like a marathon in itself when you've already done 20. With a 10k still to go, my mantra was starting to sound stale and fake. Every doubt you ever had about yourself creeps back into your mind. One bright eyed runner we had met earlier in the race was now walking with slumped shoulders, crying hard. I put my hand on her back and said, "C'mon girl, you got this..." (I think I just needed to hear myself speak those words so I would believe them myself) She looked up and whispered, "Every mile is getting longer and longer, and my back really hurts." I smiled and said, "I know, I feel the same." Brian and i started our feet up again at an attempt to just get through it. Our new friend started to jog close behind us. A few minutes later, I turned around to see her again, but she wasn't there.
21...still 5 more to go...my feet were swelling in my shoes. Brian was limping.
22... 4 more... less than an hour left... we can do this. Walk, run, walk, run...
23... a 5k and we're finished... and yet, I couldn't bring myself to run through that entire mile.
24...we'll run through one song and walk a song. Ok, maybe run half a song.. Where the HELL is mile marker 25???
25... one more to go! I look to my husband and say, "We're gonna run for 100 steps, and walk 100 steps, ok? I'll count it out! We can do this!" (1,2,3,4...MAR-A-THON-ER...MAR-A-THON-ER) Step for step, we matched each other. We trotted along with aching bodies...we counted...and counted...and counted. Everytime we broke into a run, the spectators cheered louder, screaming and clapping, "YEAH, YOU GOT THIS, THE FINISH LINE IS RIGHT UP AHEAD!" Brian looked at me and said, "I see it! Let's Go!" and we didn't stop again..
To my right, our family's faces again came into view! "GO MOM! GO DAD!" With arms in the air, our loved ones cheered with so much excitement, that again, my eyes were filling up. With relief, that blue carpet got closer and closer! I looked at Brian and held out my hand, he took it, and the announcer called out through the speakers, "BRIAN AND KARI WINT!" We raised our hands up and stepped over... we did it! Brian pulled me in and I sobbed into his chest. Now I know this sounds like a lot of crying... but to try to describe the complete and utter fatigue, yet happiness, and relief... hot from the work, yet cold from the rain... deliriously confused with how to feel. Your emotions just sort of break out of you. You're surprised that you even have tears left because you lost the ability to sweat miles ago from dehydration The joy of knowing that the runnning for that day, for that week, were over. Over! There wasn't one step that we walked that we could've ran. We put our ALL out there. Every single ounce of energy, we put into this... together. We did it.
Before long, we were laughing again with our families. We chuckled as Brian and I limped like old people to the cars. Maggie said to Mary Jayne, "I heard Kari say that this was the hardest thing she has ever done, and that she's never doing it again." Mary Jayne just smiled and replied, "That's what she said after she gave birth to Lili..."
