I can confidently state that I endured one of the most ridiculous weekends of my life this past weekend. I was awake for 40 hours, and ran about 20 miles. I lived in the "man van" for two days - smelled things I would not like to smell ever again, and witnessed some things that hopefully I won't ever have to again!
I'm really surprised that I survived, to be honest. I have a severely injured hip flexor, to the point where walking is a very difficult task. I learned many things this weekend, but most importantly that painkillers and stretching are a runner's best friend. I popped about three pills before each one of my legs and I didn't feel a daaaaamn thaaang - it was glorious. Naaaaht so glorious when the pills wore off and I was whimpering in the corner, clutching my leg.
My first leg of the race was great! I was super pumped and ready to go! It was sunny and warm and god, I could not wait to get out of the Man Van. My painkillers had kicked in, my hip was numb, my mind felt fluffy mmmmm. So, I took off. Too fast at first, of course. I always think I'm invincible when I start running a long distance. "Heck yeah I can run six miles at 7.5 miles per hour!! This is easy!!" Yeah, not so much after 30 minutes or so.
You know what the worst is? When people on the side of the road, cheering on the runners fuckin' lie. They think they are so damn smart. They think they are helping you. In reality they are killing you. "Good job runner!! You're almost there!!" I am? nuh uh "Yes!! So close! Around the corner" fucking sweet. - no NOT sweet - lies. big, bad LIES. That "corner" they're referring to is really about two miles long at a 70% incline. It kills me!! I trust them! I believe them! I pick up my pace! But it's lies, all lies. And it hurts, both mentally and physically.
My best leg of the race is a funny slash terrifying story. It was also my best time. Why, you ask? Because I was literally running for my life. So this marathon is like a hybrid of survivor, the biggest loser and the amazing race. It's nuts, I can't even explain it. You basically don't sleep and run for two and a half days straight and eat power bars and laugh at things that aren't funny because you are delusional and dehydrated. (It's 200 miles in case I failed to mention that....)
Our team did an awesome job and we were ahead of schedule. I had been planning on running my second leg around 5 AM, but this changed to 3:30 AM. Anyways, my teammate rolls up and hand me our mandatory reflective vest and flashlight. Okay, so I knew that this part of the race was through a park. So, I'm picturing the Boston Commons type of park - large, open, lights. Haha NOPE. This was a freakin' nature trail. Fine, nothing wrong with that except oh yeah, it's 3:30 in the morning and I'm alone.
I take off into the woods and am immediately freaked out. I'm alone in the middle of the woods in the middle of God knows where Massachusetts. Good thing I have a flashlight!
oops - the battery died.
oooops - forgot my blackberry in the Man Van.
fuck fuck fuck. I do the most logical thing - run, fast.
Okay, I'm not going to lie - I was totally freaked out. I was literally blindly running through the woods. You would think my eyes would adjust to the darkness but the extreme fog make that exceptionally difficult. I'm falling in puddles, slipping in mud, and then all of a sudden I come across this large wooden structure. Is that.....is that....a fucking CROSS?!
Yep. I finally stop and take a look around me. I realize I am in the middle of a giant field and there is a giant cross in the middle of it, with me standing next to it. This can't be right (it wasn't). At that point, I figured I was going to be murdered by the children of the corn. I saw the headlines - "Young, 22 (attractive) female brutally murdered in a corn field after straying off course".
Definitely had a little panic attack brewing. Thankfully, in the very far distance I see a light bouncing. AH - ANOTHER RUNNER! I followed the light back to the path (I was about a half mile off course). I scream at him until he stops and sees me - "uhhh you want me to run with you or something with my light?" he asks. UMM YES I WOULD LIKE YOU TO FUCKING RUN WITH ME OR SOMETHING I ALMOST JUST FRIGGIN DIED. I did not care that I was slowing him down, I was just thankful to be alive.
All of that aside, nothing felt better than crossing the finish line of a 200 mile long race. Towards the end, my body straight up would not listen to me. I kept telling it to move faster and it literally would not move. I was probably running slower than someone walking, but I didn't stop. Not so efficient, but whatever. I almost fell over when I finished. My thighs were effing burning, I was drenched in sweat, my CALVES ohhh, my calves were almost as painful as my hip flexors.
If you thought that the finishing the marathon was the most painful part of all of this you would be absolutely, 100% wrong. I was exhausted when I arrived home Saturday evening and passed out face down, spread eagle upon my bed. I didn't even eat dinner. and....I didn't stretch out. BAD. IDEA.
I could not get out of bed Sunday morning (after a solid 15 hours of sleep - and I'm still tired). The only thing that motivated me to physically lift my legs onto the ground was my rumbling stomach. I tried walking around a little bit. I had to go grocery shopping and I'm pretty sure everyone there believed me to be both mentally and physically challenged (true). After mowing down some Excedrin and protein, stretching, and walking I was feeling better. It also helped to have a relaxing little Sunday evening filled with The Anchorman, chinese food, and a massage with my friend..
Even though this morning I was sure that I needed to purchase a wheelchair, I felt better as the day went on. I even went for a two and a half mile run after work, which was a breeeeeeze after 20 miles. Thankfully I have a Doctor's appointment tomorrow so maybe they can fix me - physically at least, I don't think anyone can cure me mentally....
