As most of you know from my last blog, I ran a marathon two weeks ago and promised I'd write a post-race blog to let you in on the state of complete misery to which I subjected myself. Well, I've finally recovered feeling in my lower body, made my way to my computer, and I'm here to recount the wondrously painful ordeal for all of you.
I don't know how many of you are runners (hopefully none), but I can say pretty confidently that nothing you have willingly done is as mindlessly painful as running 26.2 miles. I trained hilariously little, and two days before the race I went on a light five mile run just to get a feel for how running in Phoenix compared to Denver. The upside: I cruised through those five miles at just over a six minute pace. The downside: In doing so, I tweaked my hamstring just enough that it wouldn't go away. "It's cool, I'll do an even shorter run tomorrow to work out the kink and I'll be good to go." Good one, Tab, you're a riot.
To simplify this whole blog, I'm just going to narrate what I was thinking about through the marathon at specific points. Let's begin our journey...
Mile 0 : "What have I done."
Mile 0.5 : "Thank God I've got a professional pace-runner here." (Side Note: I'm absolutely terrible at pacing myself. My game plan usually involves running as fast as possible until I can't anymore, not historically the best strategy for running a marathon.)
Mile 1.25 : "This pace-runner is going so slow. There's no way he's going the right speed. He clearly has no idea what he's doing.
Mile 7 : "A quarter of the way there. I got this shit."
Mile 10 : "Dude that guy has no legs! *As I'm passing him* Good for him, that's awesome."
Mile 13.1 : "Halfway bitches!! This is cake."
Mile 14 : "Wait, I'm just now at mile 14?!? Who's in charge of measuring here? Are they drunk??"
Mile 16 : [See Mile 0]
Mile 17 : "Aren't you supposed to 'hit the wall' at Mile 20? And where'd that pace-runner go? Please come back..."
Mile 18 : "I would trade every one of my siblings for a Segway right now."
Mile 19 : "You know what, guy with no legs? *As he passes me* Screw you. You're part machine, this doesn't count."
Mile 20 : "Well, on the up side I'm not focusing on my hamstring pain anymore because everything hurts now."
Mile 21 : "This is possibly the smallest hill I've ever encountered in my entire life, and I have never hated anything more."
Mile 22 : "Oh there you are downhill, you beautiful son of a bitch."
Mile 23 : "Holy shit, that lady just collapsed! I can give her my last Gu pack, she needs it way more than me..."
Mile 23.5 : "WHAT WAS I THINKING, I SHOULD HAVE LET HER DIE. I'M NOT GOING TO MAKE IT."
Mile 24 : "Everything below my waistline feels like it's made of concrete. This is the worst superpower ever."
Mile 24.5 : I won't say what I was thinking here because in all honesty I'm not proud of it.
Mile 26 : "So close. So close. 0.2 miles left. You can do this."
Mile 26.2 : "You did it. Congratulations. Just keep moving and make it somewhere private before you start crying."
Finishing that race was easily the best and worst feeling of my life at the exact same time. On one hand, I felt accomplished that I'd actually done something productive for once in my life (besides eating an entire Costco size bag of Doritos in one sitting of course). On the other hand, my body felt like it was about as functional as the left shark from Katy Perry's halftime show.
On a lighter note, here are my top five favorite spectator signs I saw during the race:
-"Only 836,352 inches to go!" (Just after the halfway point.)
-"Worst. Parade. Ever." (An oldie but a goodie.)
-"You've got stamina, call me!"
-"Run bitches!" (Held by a ~10 yr old girl.)
-"Because 26.3 would be crazy." (Personally my favorite.)
Fact of the day: Human feet can produce a pint of sweat a day.
Shout out to Nancy Askew.
