So I ran the LA Marathon in March and I wanted to transfer the blog post I wrote for my Team in Training fundraising page over to this blog because I want to remember it and I don't know if I'll have the Team in Training page forever:
When I reflect on race day, I really have to talk about the week leading up to it and the week after to encapsulate the whole experience.
Here we go. The week before: I usually eat modest portions: eggs and bacon for breakfast, a small salad for lunch…dinner is usually big, but that’s the only thing that is. But the week before the race I was so concerned with “carb loading” that I ate burgers for lunch, pancakes for breakfast, and take out Chinese for dinner. I wanted to be fully prepared and have enough to burn off on race day.
In the week leading up to the race, I was actually really excited and barely nervous. As I looked over the course and visualized what it would be like to be on it, I was genuinely looking forward to the experience. At the team dinner on Wednesday night, everyone was talking about how their nerves were just off the charts; I seemed to be the only one who couldn’t wait to get out there. My only concern was my injured knee but I was certain the adrenaline on race day would get me through the pain.
My excitement continued through the race expo on the Saturday before the race. It was my first time in the LA Convention Center and let me tell you, that place is impressive. I picked up my number and spent more money than I should have on marathon merchandise (but hey, I was running a marathon! AND everything was 50% off!). I got my knees taped up professionally and found my name on the wall of runners.
All in all though, the expo was underwhelming for me. I was told strictly by my coaches to NOT do anything new before race day. And it seemed as if every booth was a huge line for a sample of some fitness food. I didn’t want to stay on my feet too long the day before the race and I didn’t want to do anything new, so I left without really exploring. But having my number and my new LA Marathon gear pumped me up!
My nerves caught up with me though. Saturday night was terrible. I spent the evening sick and although it was imperative that I eat dinner, I could barely hold anything down. My sleep was restless. Luckily, I managed to set out my race outfit and accessories so I didn’t have to worry about them in the morning. And Tyler graciously got me medicine and calmed me down enough to get some food down and get a tiny amount of sleep. But my stomach was still churning.
4:00am rolled around and I was up in an instant. It all seemed like a blur as I dressed, made breakfast, woke Tyler up, and drove to Dodgers Stadium. I couldn’t finish breakfast, which made me even more nervous. Thankfully, even though I felt an intense need to, I didn’t throw up. Tyler left me with a hug and a kiss and I was on my own. I put one foot in front of the other and walked to the start.
The starting line was large. There were the corrals, where the runners smushed themselves together to wait for the start, port-a-potties, tents that housed various sponsors, and the bag check. It was all more spread out than it needed to be. I decided to carry everything on me so I didn’t have to worry about the bag check. But it was a cool thing. You could check an approved bag and they had it for you at the finish. I didn’t want to stress about that though. Dodgers Stadium was even open so you could go sit in the seats. But I was only concerned with finding my teammates.
I found Jena, my boss and the person that got me started with all this, and our friend Niesja at the very front of our corral. They kept telling me that they wanted to secure this spot so that they could have an extra half an hour to run the race. Apparently there were going to be about 10,000 people behind us and we could get a head start on the last people that crossed the start. The rest of our team was sitting in Dodgers Stadium, and Jena and Niesja were confused as to why they wouldn’t be preparing themselves in the corrals. I was just happy to be among familiar faces in a space where I could focus and calm my nerves. I got there about 2 hours early so I had plenty of time to do that. The nerves calmed and excitedness replaced them.
We were among the legacy runners, a group of people that had been running the LA Marathon since its start 29 years ago. They ranged in age from 47 to 82. It was so inspiring to be among them. I asked one of them to give me their best advice about the course. “Drink a lot of water,” he said.
At 7:00am it was finally time to start moving corrals forward. We had been sitting on the ground and it was time to stand and face our fate. The start was called for the wheelchair participants. The start was called for the elite women. The start was called for the elite men (Who finished in 2 hours. 26.2 miles in 2 HOURS. That’s 4 and a half minutes per mile! Unreal.) Race volunteers called out to us, telling us they were removing the metal barriers that separated us from the next corral up but that they were still going to hold us back using a human chain. We were NOT to trample the volunteers making the human chain.
It was getting real. Shoulder to shoulder with runners I didn’t know, we walked forward. We looked for an opportunity to throw our sweatshirts. That was an interesting thing I learned about races. You wear something throw away in the beginning to keep you warm in the early morning hours. I chose a navy blue sweatshirt I bought at Wal Mart years earlier. Me being the kind of person to get attached to things, I was sad about the thought of throwing it away but I knew I had other navy blue sweatshirts that were going to replace it. (If you’re a Cleveland Indians fan you’ll acquire a LOT of navy blue sweatshirts.) So I knew I had plenty of navy blue sweatshirts to spare, but I was still sad parting with it.
But anyway, you throw away your sweatshirt, just on the side of the street, and volunteers come through and pick them up in order to donate to charity. So my sweatshirt went to a good cause. My teammates and I were so worried we were going to hit someone when we threw our sweatshirts but we managed to get far enough to the side of the crowd to throw them without any injuries. And then nothing could stop us. We were off.
I decided before the race that I was going to take it easy and run two minutes then walk one minute as opposed to my usual run three minutes then walk one minute intervals. I knew from my last race that I take the start too fast so I decided to hang back with Jena, at least for the start. Jena was nursing a knee injury and swollen feet; she wasn’t going to go very fast, so I thought she was the best candidate to hold me back. Being my boss AND a New Yorker (from the city) didn’t hurt that case.
We crossed the start and started running. The parking lot of Dodgers Stadium was lined with spectators cheering us on in our initial leg. I barely remember the first three miles. We were flying. I remember Jena calling out our pace, telling me I was going too fast and to slow it down so I didn’t burn out. I didn’t want to slow down, but I did because I knew she was right. The first three miles came fast and easy, accompanied by the wonderful songs my friends had recommended I run to including several of my own renditions of “Let It Go,” and “Everything Is Awesome.” (Yes, I sang out loud a lot during the race. It helped keep me going. Funny enough, one of the professional race photographers caught me in the middle of a song!)
I remember needing to go to the bathroom. We passed a row of port-a-potties and there was no line. I thought I had reached the Promised Land. I was told there are ALWAYS long lines at the bathrooms. With a big smile I approached…and discovered the doors were locked. I would have to wait. We passed a few more banks of them without stopping because the lines were too long.
It was between mile three and four that I started feeling the effort. It still wasn’t hard but I was finally conscious of what I was doing. Downtown took a long time to get through. I was ready to be out of it. Not to say that downtown wasn’t lovely. We ran through the dragon gates in Chinatown and we ran past drummers in Little Tokyo. We met our coach, Raul, who had some very encouraging words. But mile 6 and we were still in downtown. When was it going to end?
And who knew that LA had so many hills? We heard about one big hill but it was seriously up and down and up and down all through downtown. I was not prepared for that. Neither was Jena. She had a hard time going up and I had a hard time going down. We walked most…all…of the hills.
I started really feeling it in my knee. And not the knee that I had injured weeks ago, but the other one. Jena suggested we stop for a minute and stretch. When stretching didn’t help, I knew I would be in trouble soon.
Finally, between miles seven and eight I got to stop for the bathroom. It was about a ten minute wait and Jena was very worried that it was killing our time. Yes, I was still with Jena. She was keeping up with me…and honestly I knew I needed to stay with her so that I didn’t totally destroy my knee before the finish. We took this opportunity to take a selfie and after relieving ourselves took off down the road towards Silver Lake.
It was around this time that I was significantly altering our intervals. This means that instead of running two and walking one I would say “let’s start running at this stop light and keep going until we hit that crazy palm tree.” At this point, my knee had a hard time running more than a minute at a time. I made it a goal to always run into a mile marker. So we were walking more. And I was quickly starting to feel awful.
Somehow, somewhere we made it into Hollywood. Between miles 10 and 11, the hugeness of it all hit me. We were passing the Pantages theater and across their marquee scrolled a message: “Congratulations 2014 LA Marathoners! You are doing incredible things!” I burst into tears. I was feeling overwhelmed.
The tears lasted for about half a mile. They wouldn’t stop. Another Team in Training coach, I forget her name, she was one of the other team’s coaches, came by to check up on me. She asked how I was doing and I said I was fine. “Why the tears, then?” she asked. I told her about my knees and about my sickness from the night before (which was bothering me) and that I was stressed about them. “You’ll get there. You’ll finish.” I don’t know if that’s what she said, but that’s what I heard. I remember her making sure I was hydrating and keeping up with nutrition. I was. She walked me through mile 11 and sent me on my way. It was then that I knew I couldn’t run anymore. My knees just wouldn’t let me. I would walk the rest of the way. Thankfully, Jena would walk with me.
Jena was struggling a little too, but we were both motivated by the fact that we would see our friend Leah half way through at mile 13. Only two more miles and we’d see her. It pushed us forward. And sure enough, there she was with all sorts of goodies. Pringles, skittles, gummy bears, bananas. She even ran into Rite Aid and grabbed us some Gatorade. We hadn’t seen Gatorade since mile 2.
It was a relief to see her. But we had to move forward. I don’t remember miles 13 to 17. I couldn’t even tell you where we were. I don’t remember anything except being miserable. This is when I wanted to drop out more than any other point during the race. I just knew how much better I would feel if I just stopped moving. I was texting Tyler, seeing if he could get off work early to meet me at the finish and immediately take me to Urgent Care. Jena offered to stop at a medical tent but I knew if I stopped I’d never get going again. We constantly checked in with each other, making sure we were ok. Jena’s feet were “on fire.” That’s what she told me every time I asked how she was.
We met an older gentleman from New Orleans who we chatted with for a while. I remember him saying that he had done a marathon in New Orleans and that it was flat. Oh, it was because we were descending another hill. That’s why he told us that. I don’t really remember anything else we talked about. I was just trying to move forward.
West Hollywood. I remember West Hollywood. We rounded the corner onto Santa Monica Blvd. I remember seeing someone dressed up as the pope. There were a few drag queen cheerleaders though none of them seemed very engaged when we passed. Another quick bathroom break because there was no line. I remember saying afterwards “This is not good. This is bad.” A fellow runner responded “Change your tune. This is good. This is good.” I tried to tell myself that.
We got to Rodeo Drive aka Photographer Lane. Jena and I were wondering why we didn’t see any photographers along the course. It’s because they were all down Rodeo Drive. We smiled and looked like we were having a good time. I was starting to feel a little better at this point because we were finally able to countdown: 10 miles left, 9 miles left…and I think the photo ops lifted my spirits even further.
At the end of Rodeo Drive there was a “Support Your Runner” screen, a giant screen that was suspended over the street. On the screen were text and video messages of support to the runners from friends and family. We had passed one before, around mile 9, and I wasn’t expecting to see anything directed at me. But Jena told me to look up, and on the screen was a message from my mom.
The tears started again. I remember the message saying “May the Force be With You.” And I don’t know if it said “proud of you” or not, but that’s what I remember feeling from it. That my family was proud of me. That single message renewed my strength and carried me forward. We passed mile 17, then mile 18 with ease.
Mile 18 to 19 was a long one. And mile 19 to 20 wasn’t much shorter. We were feeling tired again. And we just wanted to hit the twenties. It didn’t help that it was HOT. And have I mentioned that we hadn’t seen Gatorade since mile 2? The bands that were playing along the route were packing up, which left me feeling like we were bringing up the rear and no one wanted to stick around for us.
Thankfully, there were now hoses every half mile or so raining down water on us. It was a beautiful, albeit brief, respite from the heat. We had also been consistently dumping water on our heads at every water stop. It got to the point where the volunteers were just standing in the road with jugs of water. We’d walk over and they would just pour the water on our heads.
Around this time, we overheard a coach from another group tell his runner that at the pace she was going there was another two and a half hours to go. Jena did not take this news well. And honestly, neither did I. But I told her “It’s not about the time, it’s the distance. We’re at less than ten miles to go and we can’t quit now.”
An angel met us right before mile 20. She was passing out full, cold bottles of Powerade. We needed those electrolytes. It was a sweet sweet redemption from the cold and the fatigue. And it gave us the strength to hit the twenties. We rounded a corner and there was mile 20. Only 6 more miles to go.
We headed into the VA. And there were more hills. Curse those hills. Jena and I were both ready to be on San Vincente. We had done most of our training on San Vincente and we were just looking forward to be on the home stretch. And we had a group of teammates waiting for us at mile 22. We wanted to get to the final support group that we knew would give us the energy to make it to the end.
We met a couple coaches and I sent them right to Jena. My feet were on autopilot and although I would have liked to talk about how I was doing and hear some words of support, I was worried that my words of encouragement to Jena were becoming less and less effective. I knew that she needed to hear that she could make it to the end from someone other than myself.
There was another “Support Your Runner” board and I saw my mom’s message again. More tears, less than before but they still came. There was a photo op where the photographers were taking pictures from above. Jena ran into the area so she could look good. I was jealous; I tried to run but my knees just wouldn’t hold me. I had to settle for walking as fast as I could.
FINALLY we got to San Vincente. And all I could think was that we were home and we would be finished soon. My feet just moved forward. I remarked to Jena that she was the Sandra Bullock to my George Clooney, like in the movie Gravity. We were tethered and I was dragging her along, making sure she got where she needed to go. I told her several times “You’re the one that got me here, so I’m going to make sure you get to the finish.”
We met a lot of friends at mile 22 who walked us to mile 23. We met more at 24 who got us to 25. During this stretch we met a new friend who had been carrying the Filipino flag the entire 26 miles. Not only did his feet hurt but his arms hurt as well. He told us that he never knew a flag could be so heavy. The end was near and all I could think about was seeing the ocean and seeing the finish. San Vincente becomes a countdown at 26th street; all the cross streets are numbered. Once we got there, I knew the end would be soon.
The ocean never looked so beautiful when we finally saw it for the first time. It was the most magnificent color of blue I can remember and the sun was sparkling perfectly off the water. I had hoped that as soon as we turned off San Vincente onto Ocean Blvd. we would see the finish, but it was still a little while off. We still had a little way to go.
Finally we saw it. Jena wanted to try to make it in under 7 hours; we had eight minutes until we hit the 7 hour mark. I tried to run but couldn’t. We picked up our pace, but it wasn’t going to happen. We just moved forward, as fast as we could, to the finish. Jena’s friend, Deb, called to us from the sideline; she was on the other side of the street. Jena wanted to stop to say hi but knew that the effort to cross the street would be too much so we just continued forward. She would be at the end to greet us.
We got there. Jena ran over the finish line and I walked fast. Our arms thrown in the air and triumphant smiles on our faces, we crossed. Honestly, it didn’t feel as amazing as I wanted it to at first. I don’t know if it was because I couldn’t run most of the way, or maybe it was because I didn’t have anyone waiting for me at the finish (I had to wait for Tyler to get off of work to pick me up) but I expected to break down in tears immediately and instead of that happening, I was just happy it was over.
We approached the volunteers with the medals. I asked the man who gave me mine if he could put it on me, like they did at the Olympics. He was a really good sport and said something along the lines of “On behalf of the city of Los Angeles I bestow upon you this medal for the completion of 26.2 miles.” He gave me a good laugh which I appreciated. We were handed LA Marathon finisher space blankets, those shiny silver ones, which, even though it was hot, I wrapped around myself. It was comforting more than anything. Then, after some photo ops, Jena and I took off down the road again.
We weren’t done walking yet. We had to get to the Team in Training tent to check out. It was way down the road. We passed kids that were super enthusiastic about handing out bananas. We had a bad experience at the medical tent where we were trying to get ice for our pain but were getting completely ignored. We passed through the middle of the huge family reunion crowd, past the long line for free massages to finally find Jena’s friends Deb and Krys (who also ran the marathon) and the Team in Training tent.
We were greeted by cheers and congratulations. We took more pictures, learned about Krys’ marathon experience (she finished in just over 5 hours and had already gotten herself a milkshake and dipped her feet in the ocean by the time we met her). We met a few more teammates that finished after we did, and then finally Jena and I parted for the first time since 5:30am that morning. She went home and I set myself up in Palisades Park to wait for my ride home.
When I called my parents, the scope of my accomplishment finally hit me. I cried at the beginning of my conversation with each parent. We talked about the race for a while and then just about life. I had about an hour and a half to kill and I couldn’t really go anywhere because my feet and my knees just wouldn’t take me.
The only thing that got me up and moving was my need to use the bathroom. I knew I could find one in the McDonalds a couple of blocks away. I wasn’t looking forward to the walk but I really didn’t have a choice. I had taken my shoes off so I felt like a bum walking down the street in my neon pink socks. I slipped my shoes half on to relieve myself but swiftly took them off again when outside the McDonalds. I told Tyler I would meet him at the McDonalds because I really, truly, could not move any farther.
Tyler was finally off work but traffic was bad, so I decided to grab a chicken sandwich, fries, and chocolate milk from the McDonalds. Because of the traffic, Tyler was having a really hard time getting to me, so he asked if I could walk up a few blocks. I said no, but he really needed me to move. So I had to work up the courage. It didn’t help that my phone was dying while we were trying to communicate with each other.
The last I heard from him was that he wanted me to come to 5th St. and Santa Monica Blvd. I started down the road. I was at 2nd and Colorado. I had about six blocks to walk. For some reason, instead of going all the way up Colorado to 5th, I decided to walk down 4th. In the last text I sent to Tyler I asked if he could meet me on my way down 4th. Then my phone died. I had hoped I would meet him on the way.
During this walk I encountered some of the cruelest people in LA. It was funny how I saw the nicest and the cruelest people in LA all in the same day. I was shoeless and wrapped in my space blanket and I heard snickers and jeers from the people I passed and from people in their cars on the street. I even got weird looks for the way I was slowly limping down the sidewalk. Come on, people, I had just finished a marathon! Cut me some slack! Luckily, I also passed a LOT of people who congratulated me.
I never passed Tyler on my way to our “rendezvous”, so I decided to go all the way to 5th and Santa Monica. He wasn’t there. I figured he would circle back at some point. I don’t know how long I waited, but I never saw him. Eventually, a mother with her two young children saw me. The girl, about two years old, wanted to ask me if I won anything for running the marathon. I showed her my medal and let her hold it. I figured since I had an in I would ask to use their phone to call Tyler and they graciously allowed me to.
Tyler was mad. Understandably. He had no idea where I was and he was walking up and down 4th street trying to find me. We had a huge and untimely miscommunication. When I finally saw him I could tell he was going to yell at me. He picked me up to take me to the car, but I wanted to walk. When he put me down I told him that if he was going to yell at me then he shouldn’t talk at all because I couldn’t handle it. I was trying to prevent myself from an all out breakdown on the streets of Santa Monica.
It didn’t work. I started bawling. Tyler wrapped me in his arms and apologized. He told me he was just worried about me and didn’t know what to do. He said he had a moment where he thought he was never going to find me. We just stood there a minute, me crying in his arms, both of us apologizing to the other. It was simply time to go home.
When we got in the car and on the way I couldn’t stop myself from crying the whole way. I think it was just the realization that the stress of it was over. That I was stripped down to my core and it was finally time to recover and take it easy. They were tears of relief. They lasted the whole way home and we sat in the car for about 10 more minutes just to let me cry it all out.
This time, I let Tyler carry me out of the car and up the stairs to the apartment. I laid down on my bed for a while, just enjoying the fact that I was finally horizontal. I told him about some of my experiences. I showered, then took an epsom salt bath, and I was asleep by 8:00pm. Tyler, knowing I couldn’t walk, took very good care of me and acted as my legs that night.
The next morning I got out of bed and nearly fell flat on my face. My knees didn’t support my weight. I wanted to go into work, but decided the doctors was a better option (Not just for my knees, but for my sickness from Saturday night that was still plaguing me. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to get my knees checked out too). The doctor’s diagnosis was that I just needed to rest them. Even though I couldn’t walk, all I could do was wait. That’s not what I wanted to hear. I wanted a quick fix. But thankfully, my knees have been getting significantly better day by day. They still hurt today (almost a week later) and I’m still limping but I have hope they’ll fully recover soon.
In the end, what I found most incredible about this entire experience was what I learned about myself. Yes, I was elated to see the strength in the other people, the encouragement that my friends and strangers gave me (surprisingly, most people pronounced my name correctly from reading it off my jersey!), and the random acts of kindness all along the course. But what I was really grateful to discover was that when I’m stripped down to my core through intense amounts of pain I’m able to find within myself a strength and selflessness I didn’t know I possessed.
It was important for me to cross the finish line, yes, but it was more important to me that Jena cross it as well. It was a hard and painful 26 miles, yes, but I wouldn’t let my feet stop. I didn’t know I had that in me. And I was so happy to find it.
All in all, it’s been an amazing journey. It’s been a part of my life since November and I’ve definitely become a better person because of it. I’ve learned things about myself that I never knew and I did something I once told myself I could never do. When I tell people my stories they say “I could never do something like that, ” I tell them that I was saying that a year ago, and here I am today, a marathon finisher. So if I could do it, they certainly can too. I was happy to find my heart and my soul amidst this experience and I was extremely happy to find that it was a good one.
I think my Dad summed it up best in a card he sent me. He said “Though your knees may hurt, your heart is strong.” Not finishing was never an option. I made the decision back in November to cross that finish line and despite injuries and sickness, I made it. Is it too egotistical to say that I’m proud of myself? Not just because I finished but because underneath it all I found my good and strong heart.
I hope that this story can inspire others to challenge themselves to accomplish something they never thought possible. Let me tell you, it is possible. And, if you get blessing to help people out while doing so, like how I was able to give people the opportunity to save lives through the Leukemia Lymphoma Society, then how much more amazing of an accomplishment.
I do know, and have always known, this: I couldn’t have done it without the support of my team, my friends, and my family. Thank you to everyone who wished me well, donated to my fundraising campaign, helped with my training, cheered me on, and provided support. You got me over that finish line and you all hold a very special place in my heart :)
