My "Marathon"

WARNING: LONG POST. 

 Sorry for all the babbling.  Scroll down to skip to photos if you don't want to read my novel.

Have you ever tried something completely out of your comfort zone?  Something so completely new and   unknown that it leaves your heart beating out of your chest and makes your palms sweat at the thought of completing this task?  

I know that feeling all too well.

Let me back up a little.  A few months ago, Mike (of Mike and Jess) suggested to Noa that they sign up for the Marine Corps Marathon in Washington, DC.  You may remember that the two of them completed a marathon 4 years ago in Tennessee (see posts here and here).  Mike also mentioned that Jess would be running the 10K race that was also occurring that weekend and somehow the suggestion was made for me to run that race.

My thoughts: NO WAY.  NEVER IN A MILLION YEARS.  NO.  NEVER.

But somehow I got signed up for this race.  

Whenever I thought about the race, my heart sunk to the floor.  You see, I've never been a runner.  I'm not even much of an athlete.  I've played some team sports, including track (if you consider that a "team" sport).  I was horrible at track.  My race was the 400 meter and I came in last in all but one of my races.  I stayed on the team because I enjoyed cheering for the other runners and made some great friends in spite of being the worst runner on the school's track team.  I didn't enjoy it and knew that I couldn't keep participating if I hated it.  So, I found something else I enjoyed: theatre and singing.  Once involved in those, I never looked back at sports.  Until now....

For the past three months I have been running (well, jogging or walking really fast might be better terms for my training regimen) and slowly working up to complete a race that is 6.2 miles in length.  I realize that this isn't really a major feat of human strength and endurance, but for me, it was just like preparing for a marathon. Or climbing Mt. Everest.  Or solving the problem of world hunger.  Impossible and at least, very, very, very unlikely.  After all, I could barely run a mile without panting like a dog.  And my knees....well, let's just say that I have a lot in common with the 70-year-old women in my Bible study group.

Early Friday morning, both Noa and I hopped on a plane bound for Washington DC.  We spent Friday and Saturday visiting his friend Brad, from high school, and his lovely family.  Saturday night, Mike and Jess, and several mutual friends arrived in DC for the race.  Although I was excited to see everyone, I could not sense a feeling over overwhelming foreboding.  That night, sleep did not come easily.

Race morning: we got up and ready quickly in order to be at the starting point before 7 am.  Jess and I met up with Hutch (one of our mutual friends), who was also running the 10K.  We walked around and tried to stay warm in the cool morning air, stretched our legs, and waited in the long lines at the port-o-potties.  Finally, it was time to get in position.  The pit in my stomach felt enormous and heavy, as if a bowling ball would explode in my stomach.  Instantly the gun went off and.....

nothing.

Seriously?!

Yup, we just stood there for a few seconds.  Then the crowd started to move.  Not fast, but at a simple walking pace.  But, you could feel the energy in the air.  There was cheering, music was playing, and the sun was turning the sky bright and cheerful.  I looked to the right an saw 5 Marines standing at attention.  I could feel the goosebumps rising on my arms.  Shortly, we crossed the starting line and started to run.  To my surprise we were running at a reasonable pace.  We weren't at a full sprint, but yet, the three of us were still passing people. It was as though we were in a dance; we'd be running together and then move to the right and around someone and then split our group in order to pass the next person or group before us.  Sometimes we ran in single file, other times we were all together in a row.  I was even able to talk to Jess and Hutch, without panting like a dog, I might add.  "I can do this," I thought.  And then I said it out loud, "I can do this."

I kept up the steady pace through mile 4.  There were signs posted along the route that let runners know how far they had run.  Oh, and I failed to mention that there were approximately 10,000 runners in the 10K race, so the roads were packed.  Our group continued to do our "dance" as we weaved through the crowds.  At one point, Jess ran ahead, whipped out her iPhone and took a picture of me and Hutch.  I flashed the peace sign and smiled like a goof.

The gum helped.  We made it through the last water station and then I saw the sign for mile 6.  Only .2 miles to go.  "I can do this," I thought.  We turned a corner and then I saw it: THE HILL.  The last stretch to the finish line was a sharp, curse-inducing hill that covered the last part of the course. I was determined to finish this race and finish by running.  Now, when I saw "run" what I really mean is moving my arms and legs in a way that would indicate running, but really going at about the pace of a elderly snail.  Jess stuck with me, even though it was probably painful to watch me, let alone, stick by me.  What a friend. 

And, then, the finish line.  The glorious, gleaming red arch that beckoned me forward.  As I stepped through, a burst of excitement and relief filled me and I realized one thing:  I DID IT!  I ran the 10K!  I did the impossible!  And...OH-MY-GOSH-I-NEED-TO-PEE!  We high-tailed it to the port-o-potties and I took care of business (and let's just say that the port-o-potty experience post-race was one of the most disturbing experience of my life).  

After that, I felt like shouting from the rooftops.  I had to tell someone.  I can't tell Noa (he was running the marathon, which started at the same time as the 10K).  So, I called my parent's house in NH.  My mom and sister got on the phone and all I could must was, "I did it!"  And then the tears started flowing.  I couldn't contain myself any longer.  The salty tears stung my face as they slide down my cheek.  I don't even remember what I said to my family, I just remember feeling like a million bucks, like I could take on the world, like I really could solve the problem of world hunger. After hanging up the phone, Jess, Hutch, and I went in search of our medals.  All participants receive medals and we somehow missed them in all the excitement of finishing and my frantic search for the bathroom.  We found some young Marines who were assigned to giving them out.  So, I walked up to one of the Marines, bent down my head, and let him place the medal around my neck.  I looked down at the medal - a physical symbol of my major accomplishment and felt that same feeling that I felt when I called home.  I did it!  

I really did it.  I am not a runner, but I did it. 

I didn't even come in last place.  Not even close.

I did it!

I almost couldn't contain myself. I looked at the young Marine who just gave me the medal and instead of saying a simple, "thank you,"  I said, "can I hug you?!"  This poor Marine, who was just trying to do his job now had a sweaty, overly emotional girl giving him a hug for running a measly 6 miles.

But, you know what?  I don't care.  I did it and I was proud and beyond thrilled.

Later came photos, meeting up with our friends, and later meeting up with the boys, who completed the marathon in under 4 hours.  The rest of the weekend included delicious dinners out, visiting with friends, and going to the Newseum.  The weekend has now washed away and it all feels like a dream, but I still can't shake the feeling of accomplishment.  It's a great feeling.

Alright, enough with my ramblings....on to the photos:

Me with Jess, who sweetly stayed by me the whole race, even when I had to walk.

The 10kers: me, Hutch, and Jess

The Marathoners: Noa, Mike, and Rob (mutual friend).

Hampostles: Noa, me, Mike, and Jess

Special thanks to Jess for providing not only moral support, but also all these awesome photos.