I never meant to sign up for a marathon! It’s not that I’m against them; I’ve just
never had even an inkling of an urge to do one.
Then in a rash decision last fall, Chris and I signed up for Ironman UK
and as the last leg of that race is, indeed, a marathon, my ‘never running a
marathon’ vow was already as good as broken.
Some Ironman hopefuls want their Ironman to also be their first marathon
but mentally I needed to know beforehand
that I could move myself that far. Running
a marathon in Paris sounded more fun than doing one locally, so we signed up and
convinced our friends the Waughs to do the same. Chris went to high school in Tennessee and
then to the University of Memphis with Justin and Lindsey. They are both experienced marathoners, and Paris
was Lindsey’s twentieth! As usual, months flew by and
Chris and I were boarding the Eurostar train to Paris.
Just over two hours later we arrived in The City of Light and the Waughs
arrived a few hours afterwards. It’s
been about a year since we’ve spent time with them and we were laughing that it
takes signing up for an ambitious event to get us together. (The last time was for a hundred-mile bike
ride in Little Rock!)
There’s a separate blog on the trip to Paris itself so I’ll
just skip to the start of the marathon.
We had read in the little pre-race booklet about the race start and what
to expect. (That book must’ve been
translated online and never proof-read.
One of the little gems was a reminder to “bring two small bandages for
your tits.” HAHA!) I had debated running with Lindsey because
Justin was going to sit the race out with a foot injury but at the last minute he
decided to run. Lindsey was going to
take it really easy because she’s twenty weeks pregnant and so the two of them
stuck together for the course, stopping to take pictures, walk at times, and
eat snacks along the way.
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| Trying to stay warm before the race start! Getting nervous at this point. |
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| Race start... people as far as you could see! |
Chris was going to run faster than I could handle so I
struck out on my own at the last minute.
I decided to start with the four-hour pacing group (along with about
half of the other runners!) That’s a
9:00/mile pace, well within my usual training pace. Right away I felt a little
claustrophobic. The whole course was
absolutely packed with people. When our
wave started, it was hard to get into a steady rhythm with so many people around
and with the cobblestone roads. I didn’t
like being cramped in the middle or having to dodge around slower people so
worked my way to the far right side of the course and stayed there for the duration. That was a huge mistake! Running 26.2 miles will sure let you know
your body’s weaknesses. The only overuse
injury I’ve sporadically had to deal with over the past years is a really tight
right IT band. I saw a physio guy here
in England and he gave me some rehab to do that I was sooo compliant with for
about two months… and then felt better and stopped doing it. That was so, so dumb of me. I think running on the tilted edge of the
road made that injury flare up. By mile 12 I could already feel it tightening
and by mile 15 was having to stop and stretch so much that I lost sight of the
4:00 pacer, which was really discouraging since I had more than 11 miles to
go! By mile 18 I was wondering if I should just
give up but reasoned I probably wasn’t doing permanent harm because stretching
made my leg feel fine for a few minutes afterwards until tightening back up. People
around me were starting to fade at this point as well. More and more people were walking, stopping
to stretch, and generally looking haggard.
At mile 20 I was sort of done with the race. Then, for whatever reason, I tuned out my
brain and just shuffled along without much pain until mile 23. Fitness wise I was absolutely fine – my heart
rate was really low and my muscles weren’t tired… it was just that my IT band
was so tight I couldn’t bend my right knee more than a few degrees. Mentally, I soared at the 23-mile marker. I thought “anyone can run three miles!” And then I swear I did run three miles. Except the next marker read ‘24’. How. The. Hell. Was. That. One. Mile. I stopped
and walked for half a mile and then got mad at myself and started jogging
again. From that point on, I ignored the
mile markers and instead paid attention to the kilometer signs. It was more rewarding to see “40-km” and then,
“41-km”, and then the crowd was getting louder, and more people were starting
to jog again, and then we turned the corner and I could see the finish. I heard sobbing and a 50-yr old man pulled
alongside me just crying his eyes out. I
went teary-eyed, too, but wasn’t sure why. It really is just an overwhelming
experience in some regards. I remember looking
at my watch and noting I was well above that four-hour goal but thinking I
just didn’t care anymore. (There are
actually videos on the race website of the finish and a few days later I
watched video footage of myself shuffling across the finish line. I will NOT be sharing that link and yes, I
looked just as bad as I felt!)
There was a definite feeling of victory as I passed over the
finish line, even in 19,514th (ha!) place. Everyone keeps you moving forwards, and after
a few steps you receive your finisher medal, then a few more steps to get your
finisher’s T-shirt and plastic poncho to keep warm, then to tables full of Gatorade
and water, then to the fruit table, then the left-luggage tents. By this point I was damp and absolutely
freezing. Chris found me at the left-luggage tent (I was standing right next to
him and didn’t realize it.) He bombarded
me with questions: “How was your race!” “How do you feel?” “Are you cold?” “Are
you hungry?” My head was so foggy I made him stop asking questions and asked
how his race was. He gave me a cheeky smile and showed me his
watch. I should preface this by saying he’s
not a distance runner at all, and that he was aiming for 3:50. His watch read 3:25:05! That’s a 7:48 mine/mile pace for 26.2 miles! Amazing. His race was so different from mine. He said he’s never felt so good running, and
didn’t have any trouble until his right achilles started aching at mile 20. I’m
so proud of him!! (His official ranking
was 4,562.)
Almost 40,000 people ran the Paris marathon this year. The crowd support was really good; all but a
few miles of the course were lined with spectators and there were 80+ drum
lines, performers, and bands along the course.
Looking back on the race, I’d say it was well run except for a desperate
need for more toilets. The thing I will
remember most about my first marathon is the number of people who just dropped
pants and went for it in the street, on the grass, behind any tree, or behind
the port-o-potties that had long lines of people. I waited four minutes for a toilet about
mid-way through the race and next time will probably just follow the crowd and
not waste the time! I mean, I pee in the
trees when I run with my friends around the house but I know them and there
aren’t hordes of spectators taking photos!
Haha! I guess people gotta do
what people gotta do. I wonder if the
race officials would be sad to know that what I remember most about their
multi-million Euro race is the awe-inspiring amount of wild peeing happening
over 26.2 miles of Parisian streets and parks!
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| Justin and Lindsey with their finisher's medals! |
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