Marathon Magic

This past weekend was a blur.  Without a doubt, running my first marathon was a top ten life experience, and one that I will never, ever forget.  But my memories of the actual race are hazy at best.  I can best liken the experience to childbirth - your body goes into autopilot, your mind goes somewhere else, and when it's all over, you forget all the bad stuff and just want to do it again.  So before the few dim memories I do hold fade away, I'll capture the highlights:

• The night before.  Eating pasta out of crockpot in a hotel room with my favorite people, and feeling like that was the best pre-race meal we could have planned.  Not sleeping one stinking wink.  A bundle of energy and excitement, wishing I could just start running.  Reading emails and texts and Facebook messages of encouragement and feeling so supported and ready.

• The morning of.  Zero appetite.  Feeling less worried about the lack of sleep and appetite when I join my brother for breakfast and realize he's in the same boat.  Riding the shuttle bus to the start.  Waiting in Battery Park with my brother.  Laughing at funny people and things around us to quell our nerves.  Let me tell you - Paul's the one you want in your foxhole when the going gets tough and you need a little humor.

• The start.  Hearing every church bell in Burlington ring.  Being surrounded by runners in every direction and feeling like I am part of something big. 
• The first pass through Church St., the main pedestrian thoroughfare in Burlington.  Feeling the support of thousands of seasoned spectators who know exactly what a first-time marathoner needs to hear.
• Seeing Paul around mile 7.  Checking in with a wave and a nod to let each other know we are all good. 
• Spotting my Dad in his Mets t-shirt for the first time around mile 10.5.  Knowing the rest of my family is just ahead.  Seeing their proud smiles and excited eyes.  Feeling so strong.

This is what they all did while waiting to see us run by.

• Feeling love from complete strangers - high-fives from little ones, watermelon and orange slices (and a peace pipe...only in Vermont!) from big ones, music and cheers from everyone.
• Crossing the time chip reader at 13.1 and registering that it is half over.  Feeling a few raindrops on my face and being grateful for some perfect running weather after a week of Accuweather obsession and worry.
• The Assault on Battery.  This infamous hill is NO JOKE.  At mile 15, the last thing you want to see is a steep, mile-long incline.  But the crowds on either side get me up and I know it was "all down hill from here".
• Struggling mentally around mile 17.  Lacking confidence in my ability to keep going.  Knowing I need to keep eating but feeling nauseous.  Knowing I need to stop drinking but feeling so thirsty.  Wondering when I'll next see my family, needing a boost.
• And just like that, seeing my family.  Getting hugs from the boys and a kiss from Ben.  Feeling like I can do it again.  

Who wouldn't be able to keep going after seeing awesome signs like these?

• The no good, awful, terrible downhill at mile 21.  Steep and smelly, ending at a sewage treatment plant.  Realizing that I'd take the Assault on Battery any day over such a severe downgrade.
• Miles 21-26.  Actually, that's a lie.  There are almost no memories from this period, other than seeing a sign that said "Dig Deep" over and over again.  Being unsure if I was imagining it or if there are actually several of them.  Regardless, "Dig Deep" was exactly what I needed to hear at that moment.  Replaying encouraging words I'd heard from friends, urging my legs to keep going, overriding my brain's overwhelming desire to stop.  Suddenly aware of the lyrics to a song on my running mix - "This is the part when I say I don't wanna. I'm stronger than I've been before." - and thinking they were written for that moment.
• Hearing the finish line crowds and realizing I'm really really close.  Rounding the bend and seeing Ben and the boys (a most wonderful surprise - I hadn't expected to see them until the finish); hearing Ben shout "only a quarter mile to go!".  The announcer saying "if you can hear me, you can break 4 hours...".  Pulling my earbuds out so I can truly experience the last few moments - telling myself "THIS IS IT!", like a mental pinch to awaken from my running fog and let it all soak in.
• Crossing the finish line, arms in the air, tears streaming.  Exhausted to the bone, but so so happy.  

 

• Reuniting with Paul, my parents, my family.  Taking perhaps the best hot shower I've ever had, and enjoying the tastiest burger and beer that I've ever experienced.

Back at the hotel after the race, I told Ben that this was the proudest I'd ever been of myself.  I know I've been proud of myself at other times during my life, but at that moment, I couldn't think of another time I'd been prouder.  I was proud of myself for the months of training, some of it in downright awful conditions.  I was proud of myself for choosing a goal and going after it - attempting something that truly scared me.  I was proud of myself for being a positive role model for the boys.  And I was proud of myself for the race I had just run.  It was so hard - harder than I had imagined - harder than I had planned for.  But that made the finish that much sweeter.  Because challenges are what make life interesting, and overcoming them is what makes life meaningful.

I can't wait to do it again.

Spring Training

Sigh.  Another month has flown by without a post.  I have so much I want to write, deep thoughts that come to me on my loooong training runs for a little 26.2 jog I plan to take a week from Sunday (!).  Thoughts about where I am and where I'm going (figuratively, not literally - I usually have a decent sense of where I am), how much the boys have grown up, how our relationships are changing, what it means to parent a 6- and an 8-year old.  Without too much awareness or intention, I have always used running as a time to reflect, evaluate, and process.  But when I return from running and sit down to write, inevitably, life calls.  Broken elbows, stomach bugs, practice exams to take, new computers to rewire, mulch to spread (it is finally spring after all!)...plus all the normal everyday stuff.  But I owe it to myself and my kids to find a time to capture these reflections as I have them, because they quickly vanish as time passes.  So...at some point (right?)...I will find the time to put all that on paper.  In the meantime, before it is too far in the rear view mirror - our Spring Break 2015 adventures...

One thing that I love about my boys is that they have the ability to get excited about almost anything.  I love their sense of adventure and spontaneity, and their willingness to jump in the car and take a road trip with their mama and their Noni.  When I told them we would be visiting Sturbridge, Plymouth, and Boston over Spring Break, you would have thought I told them we were going to Disney World. 

This is the one and only picture I took in Sturbridge.  It POURED rain the whole time we were there, but we still had a lot of fun learning about how New Englanders did things in the nineteenth century.  We also learned, surprisingly, that you can get some pretty delicious Thai food in Sturbridge. 

Day 2's weather was a complete reversal.  Sunny and warm - perfect for exploring Plimoth Plantation.  Ethan had been begging to go the Plimoth Plantation since the Wampanogs visited his classroom this fall. 

Learning to braid fibers to make covers for a summer home.

These settlers had quite the view!

Learning to march.

And charge!

Forts and cannons are always a hit

Channeling their Dad's skills at lawn games.

We loved Plimoth Plantation.  And we loved the town of Plymouth!  We stayed at a great family-friendly hotel with a pool and water slides, and enjoyed exploring the quaint town.

From our hotel, a beautiful walking trail meandered down by the river.

Some of us got up close and personal with said river, and had soggy shorts for dinner.

On Day 3 we awoke to another spectacular day, and decided we needed a little time on the beach before heading to Destination #3: Boston.

Shell-collecting and dam-building.

First stop in Boston: Fenway Park!  The boys have become huge Red Sox fans, so this was a top priority.  The Sox weren't in town, but we enjoyed a tour of the ballpark.

And a visit to the souvenir shop.

Big time awe-inspiring for little fans.

We rounded out our trip to Boston with a stay in a very funky retro hotel right near Fenway, a walk in the Fens, some delicious city eats...

and a Duck Tour!

The highlight was (of course) driving the duck.

Clearly, our tour guide was more interesting than the road (or river) ahead.

What fun adventures we had!