Vermont City Marathon - Run

The gun went off, I hit play on my iPod...and nothing happened. We began trotting to the start, still nothing, I began jabbing the play button repeatedly. Finally it began playing. The wrong song. Argh. I hit start on my Garmin as I crossed the start and at the same time realized my Garmin was set to quarter mile splits, not mile splits. Oops. Then through the song I did not want to hear at that moment, I heard the bells tolling. Hit pause on my iPod and just listened to the foot strikes, the announcer and these amazing bells gonging away. In that moment, realizing the wrong song was gonna play, my Garmin was gonna give me frequent splits, the roads were soggy with puddles, the wind blowing and I was still dealing with sludge in my lungs from a bad bout of bronchitis the week before -- everything was just gonna be what it was gonna be and, as Asalzwed said, Just run the race you trained for. It felt weirdly easy in my head and I hoped it would all come out in the wash.

And what a wash it was. Rain, rain, and more rain. I felt like Forrest Gump describing 'nam. Little bitty stingin' rain, big ol' fat rain, rain that flew in sideways. It was pretty miserable. The first couple of miles were fine, except the gushing rivers that ran down the streets we had to cross. I initially tried leaping them, but eventually landed full on in a couple of them, and got splashed by other runners doing the same...soggy shoes at mile 3 of a marathon. Great.

I was hitting all my numbers and not stressing too badly for the first 7 or 8 miles. The out and back on the highway was a little rough as anything going north involved a headwind. I kept an eye out for BDogs to distract me from the niggling pain starting in my right knee. I saw his group coming my way, waved and yelled, he still looked a little bewildered by me, but to his credit, he gave a jaunty wave back.

I saw Dan as I ran through Church Street (where some drag queens had set up shop). A good boost, as always, to see my guy. I smiled and waved, but inside, I was quietly starting to curse the rain.

Running along the lake at mile 14 was not great. Soggy, muddy and windy. The waves were crashing over the path. Mostly I was annoyed with a girl who was running maybe a second or two slower than I wanted to go and would not let me pass her -- like she sensed when I wanted to edge around and would pick up the pace. I knew I couldn't get into a pacing war with someone at mile 14. I finally was able to get around her at one of the relay exchanges -- she wasn't even racing me, she wasn't doing the full.

I knew the big hill was at mile 15 -- the humorously named "Assault on Battery" -- I always love a good pun, if not a good hill. I muttered "here we go" as I rounded the corner and braced myself to take it on. At the moment that I started feeling the incline, I felt something snapping against my ankle -- a loose shoe lace. Argh. Perfect timing. Somehow in some swiftly and well executed move, I had retied my shoe and was up and running again. The drums were great -- covered in plastic to protect them from the rain. I got to the top feeling like that wasn't so bad -- Garmin said I'd dropped to an 8:19 for that part ...fine, totally fine. Don't sweat it.

Hill behind me, I pushed onward.

I had a rough time with hydrating and nutrition for this race. I'm not sure if it was the weather or that I was possibly pushing too hard, or that I was just feeling (sorry) under the weather still from my bronchitis, but whatever the reason, I could not convince myself to eat an entire GU gel. I'd take a little in, and it would just SIT there in my mouth. A gulp of water helped, but it wasn't enough. I was not taking in nearly enough calories.

And at around mile 19, I began realizing how bad that was gonna be. I had a sudden light-headedness, my legs felt like lead, the hairs on my arms began to stand on end and I thought, Omigod, I think I might bonk. Is this what bonking feels like? I tried not to think about it and took some deep breaths. I refused to slow down. I don't know why I was being stubborn, but I thought to myself, All or nuthin'. I crash and burn, at least I tried...

I tried to distract myself with my surroundings. There was a woman running in front of me wearing inverse colored American flag shorts. I figured this was a sneaky way to make pace-booty admiration more patriotic and if I stared at her butt long enough, I'd start seeing echoes of the proper American flag on my retinas. She was too fast for me, though, so I never had a chance to test out the theory. Cool shorts, though.

I got myself a good swallow of Gatorade at the next aid station, but all of a sudden felt like I was positively dying of thirst. I've never been that thirsty on a run. Parched! And such a rainy run, no less. No aid station in sight, I rounded a corner (oh, the corners of the neighborhoods were really starting to hurt) and some kid had set up a water table. Bless you, small child! I ran up to him and said, "Water?" But there was a mad rush of other runners and I missed out on getting a cup. The next table had only Gatorade. "Water?" I gasped. "Sorry, only Gatorade," the guy replied apologetically. I must have looked like I was ready to cry, because the runner next to me, an older gentleman who I'd been leap frogging with for the past 5 miles, HANDED ME HIS CUP. "Here, water." I could have hugged him (I mean, I couldn't have, we were running a marathon, but I really wanted to). "Really?" I gasped as he shoved the cup towards me. I took a sip, said a somewhat tearful thank you and handed it back to him. I don't know what on earth possessed me to hand the cup back, but I hadn't drank it all and figured he might want some. He took it dubiously, but I did see him take a sip after. I *really* hope I didn't get him sick. He was so kind.

After I hit mile 20, I started thinking about dropping the hammer. Mostly I was arguing with myself in my head -- it was not a pleasant discussion. I was slowing down, I was thirsty, I couldn't take any gels, my shoes were heavy from the water they had sucked up, both Achilles tendons were aching, I was coughing up grossness and blowing snot rockets every mile --it was not pretty -- and I felt I might bonk. I thought, I think my race might be over. I'll still finish, but I don't think I can sub 3:35 this puppy. And that's ok. It's fine. You'll still maybe beat your NYC PR...It's ok. It'll be ok.

And then my alter ego was all: If you get to the finish line, and you have ANYTHING, an ounce, a smidge of a wisp of ANYTHING left in you, I will never, EVER EVER EVER forgive you.

I don't even know what not forgiving myself would feel like, but that little voice was the kick in the pants I needed. I began picking up the pace.

When I went down that final mini-hill to the bike path along the waterfront, I told myself to just start picking people off, just like BDogs told me. I focused on the person in front of me, passed them, focused on the next person, reeled them in, scrub, rinse and repeat. And speaking of rinsing, the rain stopped. The sun peeked out of the clouds. My soggy running gloves that were gonna be thrown away at the start, but had stuck with me to mile 22 because it was so cold, were starting to bug me. I decided it was time to say goodbye and peeled them off. It felt amazing to throw them away. I felt like some of my negativity went with them. People were so kind, told me "Good job! Keep going!" as I ran past them. Runners are just awesome people.

At mile 24 I passed a medical tent. A girl was passed out, eyes rolled back, being tended to by EMTs. I looked away, and tried not to think about passing out again. Everything hurt at this point, but my average was starting to come down again.

I knew the finish line was close now. I dug super deep, telling myself pain was temporary, 10 more minutes, anyone can suffer for 10 more minutes. I began a countdown in my head, or rather a count UP to my goal...3:34-something, I told myself. It'll be ok, even if it's 3:34:59. Keep. Going.

I caught Dan at just past the 26 mile mark. He's such a good cheerer, and didn't yell "almost there" -- he screamed, "PUSH PUSH PUSH!!!!"

Right! PUSH. I glanced down at my Garmin, trying to figure out if I could still hit my goal. I rounded the last corner onto the grass, not knowing how much further the finish line would be (it must be close!) and thought, it can't be more than one minute of running. If I do it in less than a minute, I'll still hit my 3:33-something goal! So, I started a countdown....59, 58, 57, 56 -- and there was the finish line banner. I tunnel visioned into that banner, my Garmin later said a 7:14 min/mile pace, which isn't super fast, but for the last quarter mile of a marathon, I'm pretty astounded I could pull that off.

I crossed the finish line, hit my Garmin and looked down -- 3:33:49.

!!!!!!!!!!!!

I promptly yelled excitedly to nobody in particular, "I DID IT! I qualified for Boston!!" People looked at me weirdly, but they smiled. I began gulping for air because I was starting to cry. Somebody put a Mylar blanket over my shoulders and took my picture while I yelled (again, in case anyone missed it) "I qualified for Boston!!" A very burly bearded man ahead of me took one look at me -- laughing, teary eyed, sweaty, muddy, soaking wet -- and said, "I'm just gonna go ahead and give you a hug." So sweet. I gave him a huge hug and began crying again.

Rereading this, I still can't believe I was able to pull that off. Stupidly proud of myself.

BQ, baby!

Do better at eating GU gels. Maybe double knot my shoes. Make sure I have an attractive race outfit for ALL weather conditions.

I hobbled over to an unattended box of bananas and grabbed one that looked reasonably ripe. Then over to the chocolate milk. Oh, milk.

"Do you guys have...soy milk?" I asked tentatively, dreading the answer.

"Yes!" exclaimed the volunteer. "Let me get you one." She handed me some chocolate soy milk, even popped in the straw for me. Best. Race. Ever. If I could have managed gotten down on one knee, I would have proposed right then and there.

I hobbled to the exit and began the excruciatingly painful death march to find my finishing bag. I always forget this pain -- the icy hot fatigue discomfort that just floods my leg muscles -- and am surprised every time I feel it. The wait for the bags was super long and not well organized. It took a half hour for them to get my bag. I talked to another runner in line about the race and we congratulated each other. I told her I BQ'd -- there was literally no limit to how many people I wanted to tell. I had no shame at this point.

The second I got my dry sweats on and changed out of my soggy shirt, I felt incredible. I was tired, but the pain subsided. Dan found me and I hugged him for a good four minutes, crying and saying, "I didn't think I could do it. I didn't think I could do it." Weird thing to say, but all my anxiety and nervousness came pouring out over the amazement I felt at having hit my goal. He got teary eyed, which made me feel kind of great and less weird for crying. Then we spent the rest of the day eating and drinking our faces off. Great vegan food and amazing beer in Burlington.

Ended the day sitting on a swing overlooking the lake -- gorgeous sunset. No rain. :)


The weather for sure...rain + wind was not great. And getting a TERRIBLE horrible no good very bad case of bronchitis a week before the race. I can't even imagine how a body produces so much mucous. Ew. Beyond that, I have no idea what could have helped me here. I ran my race, I'm pretty sure I ran my edge (I definitely had nothing left to give when I finished). My food intake sucked so badly. I was throwing away my third half eaten Gel at mile 20, totally aware I was jeopardizing my entire race. But I think I was just running too fast to take anything more in. Maybe drink a little more water.


This was a great race. The only damper (pun intended) was the weather. The people are awesome, the restaurants are great, a lovely course and just an all around good time. Highly recommended.