Marathon

It's really difficult to describe the excitement I felt prior and during my big race. On Sunday I ran my first marathon--full 42.2 km (or 26.2 miles). The night before I couldn't fall asleep. When I finally did, I kept dreaming about being late for the start. I'd wake up to realize it's just a dream, and that I'm not getting a needed rest. The same kind of dream with minor variations repeated itself four times through the night, until I gave up and laid with my eyes closed until the alarm clock went off.

The day was clear but cold, after Saturday's heavy rain and even hail on times. It was perfect for running, not too hot, but maybe a touch too cold--I'm still getting over a bad case of sore throat. The organizer bunched the half marathon together with the full one at the start. It made for a crowded beginning. People running half the distance tend to start faster and before you know it, you're following their pace, exhausting yourself before time. I had to force myself to constantly check my pace to stay on my pre-planned speed. Which was very ambitious 3h10min, the time that would qualify me to both of the world's most prestigious races, Boston and New York. For that my speed had to be constantly 4'30/km.

It must have been adrenalin, excitement of the race, of all the runners beside me, all the people cheering us on, but I haven't felt fatigued until the last 4 km. By that time I already had 3 minutes "banked"--meaning I was ahead of my planned time by 3 min. Each of my legs felt 20 lbs heavier than usual. I forced them to keep moving almost on pace for those last minutes to finish in just over 3 hours 8 minutes. Sticky with Gatorade I spilled over myself on numerous water stations (ever tried to drink from a cup while in full run?) and tired, of course, I finished with an impressive time and an incredible feeling of accomplishment. What a thrill!