Race Report: Twin Cities Marathon

Like the night before any big race, I tossed and turned all night. I never got more than two consecutive hours of sleep between the nerves and having to pee. Finally, at 5:30 AM, I got up, checked the weather, and debated about what to wear: long or short sleeve. I decided to bring both and make a decision later. After a shuttle to the start and some waiting around, I met my parents at the start (Thanks to David for driving them!), took some pictures, still debated on what to wear, finally deciding on both and wore the long over short, stretched, and waited in line for one last pit stop. I had intended to start at the front of the 2nd corral, thinking that I could move freely from the back to the front. That doesn't work so well when you get in the melee five minutes before the start. Just as I pushed as far forward as possible, the gun went off and we were underway. I tried to hold my pace in the first mile, which really isn't too hard given how crowded the start is. By mile 2, I was right in line with expectations. However, my right hip flexor kind of tweaked and tightened a bit. Hmmm. "This is new," I thought. Wonder if it'll be an issue.

As I took off my long sleeve shirt, the cloudy skies started to leak lightly. No one was phased and we all pressed on. One last mile at the easy pace (8:22) through 5K and it was time to hover on the high side of 8:00. I'm psyched things are going so well. But then the rain was coming down in sheets. I know the 3:30 goal is gone, but know that I should be able to hold for a 3:40. My spirits are high.

Just before mile 6, I saw Kris huddled under a tree under her umbrella under her hood, rain pouring down all around. She yelled out and I raised my gloved fist in response. What a jolt to see her. I was through 10K in 51:19 (8:16 pace) and saw Dan and Kelley also huddled under trees. Up goes the fist and I carry on. In mile 7, l took my first Gu, saw my cousin Kevin, raised my fist and kept running. In mile 8, the rain was coming down unacceptably. I totally did not approve it. That's when I saw a ton of my family: my grandmother, grandfather, pregnant (with twins) Cousin Megan, her husband David and daughter Hailey, and Aunt Susie huddled under a number of umbrellas. I raised my fist again. Given the dismal conditions, it was special to see everyone out there supporting me. Those cheers last for several miles and I'm still mentally strong.

But by now, I was getting just as wet from the bottom up as I was from the top down. There was no point in jumping and running around puddles; everything was soaked. I looked up pleading that there would be a break in the clouds. Everything was surreal. Everyone around me just continued as if were a sunny day. The fact that on any other day, very few, if any, would even continue to run in the conditions just boggled my mind. The rain must've soaked through to my brain because now it was beginning to falter. It was getting old; the rain was distracting, annoying and just plain old sucked. I just wanted to run like I did in training. It was very difficult to maintain my concentration on the race.

Finally, around the halfway point, (At 1:47 for an 8:10 ave pace), the rain let up to a drizzle. Somewhere along the way, amongst lulls in the rain, I took my wet gloves and discarded them. That's when the wind picked up. Within minutes, my glove-free, wet hands were freezing. I pressed on, trying to keep my fingers loose and circulate the blood by moving them every now and then. I had to look down to visually confirm that they were, in fact, moving. At Mile 15, I was set to eat my second Gu. I tried to grab the top of the pack to rip it off. No luck. With every try, my frozen fingers couldn't maintain any grip and I couldn't even start to rip the foil. I exasperatedly asked the guy raking the cups off the course to open my Gu. Totally shocked by my request, he managed to get the top off and I was on my way, albeit slowly.

Throughout the race to this point, my newly tweaked hip flexor started to wreak havoc down my right leg, tightening up my IT band, calf, and arch. With every walk break at the water stops, the IT band would tighten and it would take several half-steps/half-jogs to loosen the leg and get back to running. As the mileage increased, so did the number of step/jogs it took to get going. Mentally, it taxed me more than anything else. This was a perplexing problem as it was new and I had no experience on how to deal with it. In lieu of any other strategy, I pressed on, still believing I could salvage a decent time; no worse than 3:45.

I was nearing my wits end with my hands. I needed some gloves. I knew my mom had another pair of gloves and from mile 13 on, I continuously scanned the crowd for her and dad. I thought about putting my long sleeve top back on, thinking I could pull it down over my hands. I even untied it from my waist. But it was too wet and cumbersome to deal with. I tried to retie it, but my cold fingers still didn't work right. So now it hung loosely and threatened to fall off. At mile 17, I took the opportunity to grab a Clif Shot -- the only spot on the course to get any nutrition other than water or Powerade. So now it's my hip, IT band, cold fingers and a drooping shirt around my waist. Guh. Mile 18 passed and I was at 2:33 through 30K, an 8:15 pace overall, but 8:26 from 13.1 to 18.6. I am now officially fading.

Finally, my parents! When I yelled for her gloves, Mom resisted, "They're all wet!" I took them anyways and handed my shirt to Dad in the process. I had just gotten them on when about a quarter mile later, Mom is running after me, yelling my name, holding out another pair of gloves. "They're dry! they're dry!" I smiled, thanked her, and continued on. Moms are awesome.

With my hands warm and working, I crossed the Mississippi River, and made a right turn to see the worst hill ever. Not because of its length, elevation gain, or grade. Worst because Mile 20 is at the top and a sponsor had stretched an inflatable castle wall adorned its logo across the road. My weak mind took it the wrong way and instead of getting motivated, got pissed. It was a serious downer not only to be hitting the proverbial wall, but now to have to actually climb a hill and go through an inflatable wall, that I felt was mocking me, was cruel. I downed the Clif Shot, drank some water and step-jogged my way going again. At the top, I felt any strength I had for the finish vanished. I got to mile 20 in 2:45 for an 8:16 pace overall. My pace continued to slow.

Now for the last 10K. I've never run farther than this. I saw my Cousin Meg, David and Cousin Kevin again. They cheer. I do not raise my fist. I'm walking. I'm not happy. Kevin is awesome, running along, getting me to run, encouraging me to get there. "Only single digits left! You're making it!" I'm so caught up in my pain, I can't respond. It was awesome support and he was totally right, I just wish I had something left to respond.

I split shuffling with walking. I saw Dan & Kelley again. (I think.) I see my parents one last time. Another small hill, more walking up and jogging down. But the down hurts just as much as up. I see Kris with Jess. Jess continues cheering from her bike, riding on the sidewalk, behind the crowd. I catch her out the corner of my eye and continue to shuffle myself towards the finish line.

As the line grows closer, the pain builds, and the emotions toil. The 3:50 pace ballons pass me. Am I really going that slow? I really don't know what else I'm thinking, but it's not happy thoughts. I just want to finish. At last around the last corner, past St. Paul's Cathedral and overlooking the Minnesota State Capitol. It should be a glorious finishing view for the Most Beautiful Urban Marathon in America(r). But all I see the one thing that will make this all end. One final downhill and I'm done.

After I cross my hands fall to my knees, totally spent. A medical volunteer encourages me to keep moving. I stagger forward, get my medal, space blanket, and some food. I down a bag of potato chips, two chocolate milks, and a cup of broth. While I wobble and eat, I hold back tears. Nothing has hurt like this, both physcially and mentally. I continue the finisher shuffle through the chip removal and picture-taking stations. And then I see my Mom at the fence. I greet her with as big as a hug as I can give. She's elated. And suddenly I'm crying. It didn't last long, but it surprised me at how emotionally invested I got in my nearly impossible 3:30 goal. The further I fell behind it, the deeper the emotions got and now that it was over it just bubbled up and out.

I meet the rest of my family and talk to Kris through my mom's cell phone; held to my ear while I hold my space blanket around my body. She's stuck in traffic and we agree to meet at the hotel. After a short walk there, I get to the room and give her a big hug, my biggest and bestest fan.

I finished the full 26.2 miles in 3:50:53 for an 8:48 pace. I covered the last 10K in 1:05 at a 10:31 pace.