I’ve run marathon’s before. Marine Corp ’09 was not my first. I knew going into training what it meant to run those 26.2 miles that can actually feel like 100 miles. I knew that it would take a lot of very early Saturday morning alarms, buckets of summer sweat, untold dollars in good running shoes and expensive socks. I knew that if I wanted too, I could finish. What I didn’t know when I decided to embark on the marathon journey again was that after an 11 year absence, in many ways, it feels like your first one all over again.

Three days before the marathon, I started getting nervous. I recall being nervous before my previous marathon’s, but not THIS nervous. I worried about the weather, I worried about the crowds, I worried about my family spectating, I worried that I’d forget an important supply, I worried about Hains Point, I worried about THE BRIDGE, I worried about that hill up to the finish. You name it, I worried about it. Why was I so worried? I wasn’t worried about finishing. I knew I had trained enough that I would make it across that line. No, finishing wasn’t the question. The worry, the question for me, the cause of my stress was time. What would my time be?

In all three of my previous marathons, I never worried about the clock. I just didn’t care. I went out there and put one foot in front of the other and was thrilled to just get it done. This time, something was different. Something was pushing me, nagging me, to do better. I started this marathon journey to just finish another marathon. I had no intention of worrying about time. I thought I’d be happy with anything around 5 hours, but wasn’t even too worried about that.

Then I started training. I put in the miles, I eat the right foods (mostly), and I let everyone know what I was doing. It was then that something changed. Suddenly, people were asking me on Monday how my training run went. Emails were coming in encouraging me when they knew the weekend ahead was going to have bad weather. I ran several long runs with a running partner (something I had never done before). People were interested in my efforts. They cared and they wanted to know what I was going through and how I thought I’d do in the race. This had never really happened to me before. People always knew I ran, but other than my fabulous husband, no one ever took a real active interest. Suddenly, people were doing just that.

Two weeks before Marine Corp, I ran the Baltimore Half Marathon. This was supposed to be a training run for me, but the run felt fabulous and I hit a perfect pace finishing with a PR of 2:07. I was elated as I crossed the finish line. My husband, sister, and niece were in the crowd cheering. I pulled out my cell phone to call Phil and try to locate, but before I could dial I had a Facebook message from a friend. She had been following my split times on her computer at home and was sure I had finished the race. She wanted to let me know that I had kicked butt. That message almost made me cry. I had no idea she was tracking me and it was wonderful.

So, back to those nerves. Why was I so nervous? I think it’s because for the first time, I was pressuring myself to watch that clock. I knew that others were watching me. Is this a valid reason to push yourself, maybe, maybe not? I’ve got to say that after my training runs, I really wanted to obtain a PR in this marathon, but I wanted it even more knowing that others were going to ask me about it. I wanted to make them proud. So, nervously, my family and I boarded a Metro train and headed out on a cold, dark October morning for the start line. Here’s my race story:

It was cold out there in Arlington at the start line. I tried to find my way to the middle of the pack so I could block some of the breeze. I sat down on the pavement to take my jog pants off and get myself ready and suddenly heard another female runner screaming. I look over to find the most unusual marathon participant yet. A very small, very confused field mouse had found its way in the middle of the runners and was frantically trying to get away. With over 20,000 runners, that wasn’t going to be possible. I was laughing like crazy as I watched all the ladies scream and run from this tiny little creature. Certainly a great tension reducer! Eventually, the mouse ran towards the side and some unkind man ‘took care’ of him, which I found truly sad.

It took 10 minutes to get from my place in the pack to the actual start line. The crowds were cheering, the music blaring. It was fabulous….and off we went.

Phil, Amanda, and Spencer were at roughly the 1 mile mark. I tossed my gloves to them and waved. Running through Arlington I caught up with one of the wheel chair participants just after mile one. It was great to cheer him on, but as the race progressed, the wheelchairs would become a problem. Running through miles 1-7 I remember thinking that it must be nice at times to be a man; so easy to make a pit stop….and pit stops were happening everywhere!

As we went over the Key Bridge and into Georgetown, this was the first chance we had to see some of the runners who were well ahead of us. They were inspiring in their pace. Georgetown University had their cheerleaders and band along the course and I enjoyed the music so much I wasn’t paying enough attention and almost tripped over dead road kill of some unidentifiable animal. YUCK! (Later identified by Tina as a Racoon, but I didn’t look that closely!)

Around a corner and up a pretty good sized hill to a beautiful neighborhood. On a tree was tacked a sign that makes me laugh…”Free Mimosa’s if you quit now!” HUMMMM, tempting? No way! But it did remind me that I needed to start looking for a nice hidden place. Georgetown is a beautiful little neighborhood, but unfortunately it was situated along the marathon route at the point where a lot of runners needed to make a pit stop! I found a nice wooded area bordering a gravel drive that served me fine. I shared the tissues I carry with me with some other female runners taking advantage of the same trees.

Back on the road, I realized I’d lost about 4-5 minutes on the pit stop so I tried to pick up the pace just a smidge to compensate. On the right at about mile 9 there was a mom with her approximately 6 year old daughter playing drums for us. I had to clap for them as I wondered which house is theirs. One thing I like to do while running marathons, to keep my mind occupied, is to shop for homes. As I run past them, I try to determine which house on that street I’d like to live in….there are many such homes in Georgetown.

Coming past the back of the Kennedy Center and around the back of the Lincoln Memorial, the crowd is tremendous! One sign reads, “Don’t walk, we’re watching.” That has to be one of my favorites! I thought I hear my named called, but I wasn’t sure. The crowd was so large and loud! I tried to pick up the pace during these times. They were so inspiring and I knew Hains Point and THE BRIDGE were coming.

Going into Hains Point, it got pretty quite. I turned up my iPod music and focused on my pace. Then I was startled by a wheel chair participant who comes up from behind me and in an effort to make his way through the crowd, nearly takes off my right foot. Runners in front of me began yelling, “Make a whole, wheelchair coming through.” This was not only a nice gesture for the wheelchair participant, but it was a great idea to warn the other runners. I wish I had been warned.

The half came in 2:10 and my shoulders were killing me. I walked briefly to dig Motrin out of my camelbak pocket. I also utilized my new iPhone and its headset to call Phil and let him know where I was on the course. This turned out to be a good idea as he was not getting the updates from the MCM website that he was supposed to get.

At mile 14 I could see into the medical tent and there was a runner on the stretcher who’s not looking well. As I pass, I hear the oncoming siren of an ambulance coming to pick him up. I continue on and said a pray for him. It is a sobering sight to see when you’re out there running the course.

Mile 16 brought us back around the Lincoln Memorial as we headed toward the loop around the mall. This was one of my favorite parts of the course. I saw my family again at mile 16 and gave them my “I’m getting tired” face. Seeing them was such an encouragment! I don’t think they’ll ever know how much the site of them, if only for a second, helps push me on and keep me going.

The next sign I saw that I really liked was carried by a gentlemen who look quite fit and health, perhaps in his 20’s. It read, “Making signs and cheering is hard work too.” I gave him a high five even though he didn’t even appear to be sweating. (Hard work huh???)

Mile 20 was looming ahead. You reach mile 20 just as you are about to go over the 14th Street Bridge. At the mile marker there was a fabulous women’s drum corp. They were my favorite group/band along the course. Had I not been running, I could have easily stopped to enjoy their music! Just the little push I needed to get me up on that bridge. To give you an idea of what running that bridge was like, think of a great day at the beach with a pleasant crowd and nice breeze, then think of the desolate, hot, dreary desert. The course as it meanders through Georgetown and the National Mall was the beach. The 14th Street Bridge was the desert. There was nothing out there but pavement. No spectators except for 6 or 7 bikers who had ventured up there. There were no sights to keep your mind off the miles and the exhaustion in your legs. There was nothing but the sound of feet hitting blacktop. Then I saw a sight that I’m sure EVERY MCM runner will never forget. It had to be one of the most creative spectating ideas I’ve ever seen. DEATH was on the bridge. He was wearing his long black hooded robe and holding a sign that said, “THE END IS NEAR.” He was at the 21 mile mark, so he was almost correct. The end was sort of near!

This was a hard stretch for me. I was tired. I could see on my GPS that my time was good enough for a considerable PR, but Imy legs felt like lead. Each step I had to talk myself into running and not walking. I can’t honestly say that I succeed with every step, but I tried hard and did succeed the majority of the time. That bridge was the hardest part of that course and anyone who makes it over that bridge, even if they don’t make the finish line, should get a medal.

Coming off the bridge, we went into Crystal City were once again the crowds are amazing! I couldn’t help but be re-energized as you went through the first water stop in Crystal City. The crowds was cheering and I came to the realization that I was literally almost there. Mile 21! I’m going to do this! The question became, in what time? This was what was on my mind for the remainder of the marathon. It was a battle between my tired, sore legs and the ticking of time on my GPS. Mile 22 came and went and I was doing ok. Mile 23 came and OUCH it was getting harder.

Then, we hit the smaller version of the desert that I mentioned when describing the 14th Street Bridge. This was the loop around the pentagon. Once again, it was just the runners and the pavement. I kept repeating to myself, “push forward; push forward….less than a 5k to go.” The course curved around an exit ramp and we were on the road to the finish. I could hear the music coming from the finisher’s festival, but I was so tired. I can almost, even with my deaf ears, hear the tick, tock, tick, tock of my watch. I knew I wouldn’t make it in under 4:30, but I think of how that would have been such a great thrill. I was telling myself, “Push, push, push.” The crowds were right there, I was close. An obviously military guy came off the curb and yelled at me (I guess I looked tired) “PUSH IT, YOUR THERE GIRL….YOU’VE GOT THIS. GO GO GO!” I felt like I was in boot camp and it was great. Push, push, push. Just ahead I turned a corner, and I saw the uphill that goes for a tenth of a mile to the finish. I saw wheelchair participants. I’m guessing they want to finish together, because they were maneuvering themselves through the crowd of runners, cutting us off. They lined up 5 abreast and blocked my way up the hill while they slowed trying to get up it! AHHHHHHHHHHH! I kept hearing the Tick tock Tick tock…….I thankfully saw an opening and decided to take it. The girl in front saw the same thing and triped over a wheel as she tried to pass the wheelchairs. I made it through and I saw the finish line up ahead. I heard Amanda and Phil yelling my name, but I couldn’t look that direction. I had to focus straight ahead on that wonderful line. Push Push Push….. focus……SMACKING my foot down, I finished in 4:33:37, a new personal best. Previous personal best was 4:42.
It is over, I am tired.

Next year—–4:25!!!!!!!!!!!

The Marine’s are amazing! They put on a fabulous race! The cheer and encourage! I’m proud they are our military!