Me Month: Day 16

I ran a marathon… and let me tell you, this is a miracle!

This was my second marathon. I ran Chicago back in 2011 and swore I would NEVER run one again. At the time I thought it was the worst experience of my life (worse than child birth). I actually looked at strangers about mile 22 and told them “this is the stupidest thing I have ever done.” No lie. I did lots of walking toward the end, I lost 2 toe nails, I hurt for 2 weeks after, and I never had that “I just accomplished something awesome” feeling when I finished. When I started training the first time, I did it with the intention of loosing some post-baby weight and enjoying some alone time. It was an 18 week training schedule to get to the marathon, so I thought surely in that time of running multiple times a week and long distances I would lose a TON of weight (especially since I was doing nothing before I started). I lost exactly 1 lb in my 18 week journey, ran a slower race than I wanted, and felt no sense of accomplishment… this to me was a good indicator that I should never do it again. :) Well… 2 years later I decided I wasn’t going to let that be my only long distance experience… so I signed up to run Chicago again.

First reason this is a miracle… I am not a runner. Ok, let me re-phrase… I don’t love running. I started running about three years ago, after I had Addi. It was an easy way to take some time for myself (though as stated in an earlier post… I never really looked forward to the running part, only the being alone part). I’m not very fast and I have had lots of running “injuries” over the last couple of years that made running a not very pleasant task. Any where from shin splints to IT band issues to falling in the dark creating bone exposed and stitches in both knees. It has been an adventure getting to marathon day with all the little annoying running injury hiccups along the way.

Second reason this is a miracle… Exactly 2 months before race day I had emergency surgery with some pretty massive internal bleeding. I lost a lot of blood. My hemoglobin level was a 7… which apparently is the level that they give you a blood transfusion (I really know very little about this… just relying on what the doctor told me) but they decided that since I was “young” and “active” (again… I use those terms very loosely… I wouldn’t consider myself those things but that is what the doctor categorized me as) they would try to get by without one, though it would take “quite a while” to regain my strength.  This was no lie. The first week after surgery I was taking 2-3 naps a day (about 2 hours long). Walking up and down my stairs required me to sit and rest. I asked my doctor and the anesthesiologist what the likelihood of me being able to run a marathon in 2 months would be… they both laughed. The anesthesiologist actually said, “if you are super woman… maybe” and my surgeon said, “you can run, but have your escape route planned because you won’t be able to finish.”

I attempted to run for the first time about 3 ½ weeks after surgery… it lasted half of a mile and then I literally had to stop and went home and took a nap… it did not look promising. Over the next 4 ½ weeks I took it day by day (and prayer by prayer) when it came to running. Every time I would increase my mileage I would think there is no way I will be able run one step further next time… but some how, by the grace of God, each long run was accomplished.

Side note: I am in no way a running expert… but let me give you one piece of advice… you should never try to train for a marathon in 4 weeks. There is a reason that there is an 18 week training schedule. It is hard on your body and should not try to be crammed into a short period of time… the running from 0 to 26.2miles I mean.

So over this short period of time, I found a new appreciation for running. I went from not being able to walk up and down the stairs without being tired, to a 20 mile training run. I am still not fast and I still don’t love it, but I can appreciate the gift of running that God has given to me. I literally could NOT run, physically could not do it… that gave me a new perspective. For me, I had to have the ability to do something taken away from me, before I truly appreciated it. And that, my friends, has given me a new perspective on a whole realm of things. There are so many things that I haven’t truly appreciated, that I can not fathom having taken from me.

So race weekend came. Eric and I headed to Chicago. It was a hard decision, but I decided that I was just going to be thankful for God letting me get this far, and if I had to bail in the middle… I was going to be ok with it. So the night before the race (after I had my lovely pasta dinner for my “carb load”) I spent a good portion of it throwing up. I was so sick. I didn’t know if it was nerves or something I ate, but I hadn’t thrown up that much in a long time. It did not look promising for the early rise for a marathon the next morning.

The next morning we headed to the “L” to get to the starting line. I ate 2 peanut butter crackers, in fear of throwing up again. Eric had his plan worked out and he was going to see me every 4 miles (this way I had an escape route if I couldn’t finish). I was very overwhelmed by emotion (which is weird… I don’t find running to typically be an emotional experience for me) throughout the entire race. At the beginning when all you could see was a sea of people forever (49,000 runners), during the middle witnessing all kinds of husband/wife duos, running partners, sisters, and the crowd… seriously the BEST cheering crowd a runner could ask for… and then came mile 17. I had just seen Eric at mile 16 (he is the best cheerleader/supporter by the way… could not have done it without him) and I was really, really tired. I had no energy and I knew I had 8 miles to go. Up to this point I had done no walking… but mile 17… I started to cry. I really did not think I would be able to finish. So I walked for 1 minute and I decided in that time that when I saw him again at mile 20… I would be done. So I started running again and I was just praying for every thing I could see or feel. I prayed for the other runners, I prayed for people in the crowd, I thanked God for my ability to make it this far, for giving me legs to move, lungs to breathe, eyes to see where I was going, a husband that loved me and was proud of me, the will to try when I didn’t want to… and something truly miraculous happened… I had an energy come from somewhere only God could provide. I ended up having a faster pace (and a bigger smile) the last 8 miles than any other time during the race. I finished my 26.2 miles… and I did it 37 minutes faster and with an INSANELY better attitude and heart of gratitude than I did it the first time. When I crossed the finish line, I immediately burst into tears. I could not believe God allowed me to do this.

It was truly a miraculous adventure. I am so thankful God allowed me to experience it.

Thanks for joining me on the journey!