Vintonville - The life and times of a guy, his Lady-Friend, a Little Dude and a Little Sis.

Well, for those of you who don’t know, I ran the Top of Utah Marathon this past Saturday. Here is a formula that describes it: 26.2 Miles + Brutal – 14 miles downhill + leg brutality = Shameful Performance. I’ve told many of you it will be the first and last marathon I run.

I wasn’t kidding.

Most people say I will want to improve my time or I will enjoy beating my body into complete oblivion, so I will want to keep doing it again and again. As far as improving my time? Hmmm, I’m not joking when I say an 80 year old couple beat me and they jogged/walked and hugged people all along the way. So, instead of being in the top 10, I was in the bottom 10… and as much fun as beating my body to oblivion was, I think I will pass next time the marathon comes by my house. I am better suited on the sidelines cheering the fools who like running marathons again and again. And again. And again.

Here was the problem: The week before the marathon, everyone in my house (including me) decided it would be a great week to become best friends with the porcelain bus– in more ways then one. Then, 2 days before the marathon, I decided I was sick enough not to eat anything but I could spend my days gagging down Gatorade to keep hydrated. The little voice in my head said, “Don’t run it!! You’re totally depleted and have an injury that hurts enough to make you want to die!” (IT band syndrome in not just one leg, but BOTH …I go hard or go home). Then the insane voice said, “But I’ve trained hard for this! There is no better time than now to get this goal over with!” Of course, insane voice won.

Cut to Saturday, September 20. First mile….my legs feel fine and I know the giant rock in my stomach will go away once I hit the runners high– I.E. total and complete insanity.

Mile 4,5,7…you know, that rock is still there and my legs aren’t feeling so hot. Maybe it’s the constant down hill or the totally uneven road (IT band nightmare). I’m pretty sure those endorphins will kick in ANY TIME and my legs will just go numb. I’ll stop at mile 8 and stretch.  Stretching always helps, right?

Mile 8… Stopping, stretching = the worst thing I could’ve done…both legs freeze up and are in sheer pain. Here I am, standing in the middle of the road– a grown 29 year old crying. Crying…huh? I’ve never cried on a run. Never.  “Come on Mare buck it up! You’ve got this! Only 18.2 more miles to go and 6 more of it down hill on slanted ground….awesome! This is crazy I run everyday….I ran 23 miles and was fine….I’ve totally got this race I will finish under 4 hours (ha, only in my dreams). Come on, this is silly!”  Suddenly I realize I’m speaking all of this out loud in “angry crying voice” as person after person passes me. No wonder they stopped to ask if I was ok…or slightly off my rocker.

8.1 Miles….So here I am at the crossroads…any reasonable or logical person would say, “This isn’t my day and I should probably call it quits.” Where are those sweet biking medics to give me a pump (and yes, I let Granny borrow my floral pants for this picture) down the canyon so I can rest and relax and just focus on healing my legs enough to take steps without crying. That would be the logical and smart thing to do which is why I posed the question: Are runners really tough or just insane?

Mile 11… at this point I am pretty sure I am running a 14 minute mile down hill which, I am embarrassed to say, is possible. I stop at the first medic station (crying) as the medic informs me I shouldn’t go on and that I should have someone come up to take me down. I’m fine, right? Just spread some of that Bio-Freeze sweet sauce on my leg, wrap both my knees and I’m golden…the rest of the race I’ll be kickin’ booty and takin’ names, People!

Mile 11.012…Oh baby, I’ve got this! Both knees are wrapped…in different colors…how ghetto..totally clashes with my skirt/tank top combo but who cares, right? I’m back in…15.988 more miles to go! I walk a little and feel that sweet sauce soakin’ in. Oh baby, this is it! My first stride feels like someone is stabbing me with a sharp wooden stake in both knees, which inevitably shoots pain all the way to my hips. Since it’s all connected, if one thing hurts everything hurts.

Mile 12 and 13… Time to desperately play the mind over matter game. It’s proven, right?  They have done studies. The mind is a powerful thing. I am pretty sure that’s what they teach in birthing classes… relax your body and breathe through the pain and your mind will do its business and you will be pain free! Until, of course, you actually feel the pain of labor and all that mind shiz goes to pot. Call me weak minded, but that silly “mind over matter”? Doesn’t work. I tried it people…this marathon was going to be my bits and I’m crying like a baby in sheer pain.

Miles 13 +… Walk, cry, medics, sweet sauce (IE- Bio-Freeze, my marathon hero), knee wraps (and yes, the rest of the wrappings were the same color), “jogging” (I could have walked faster), watch Granny and Gramps pass me (again), dry heave, more crying.

Finish Line… I hobble across the finish line, pass out twice and have two girls 1/2 my size carry me to sit down. Everyone says, “Wow, you are amazing! I can’t believe you finished in so much pain.” I start to feel pretty good until I look over and see a dude, head totally wrapped, blood all over his face with stitches and a medal around his neck.

Okay he wins.

Cut to Now. Everyone keeps saying I will forget the horror and try it again, saying it’s like going through labor.

Actually, it’s not.

At the end of the labor you get something pretty amazing out of it. After a marathon you get a cheap medal, a cry after every step, and more soreness than you’ve had in a lifetime. I guess I do get to say, “Yes, I have done a marathon”, but I also get to say “No, I won’t be doing one again”.

So the question remains….Are runners really tough or just insane? Thoughts?