The Best-Laid Plans

"The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry."

-John Steinbeck

Today was a shining example of very well laid plans not being executed as thought. As Abby, Ali and I lined up for the start of the New Jersey Marathon, we all felt remarkably good. Not that there weren't nerves circling around and not that we didn't worry or question the task ahead of us, but we were loudly singing obnoxious songs while waiting for the race to start, so we weren't that bad off. Unfortunately, that changed pretty quickly.

We decided to run (at least for part of the race) with one of the pace groups, so that we would start off on pace and remain consistent. But when the pacer neither starts slow nor runs a consistent pace, it's hard to stick the aforementioned plan. The weather was opposite of typical race day weather. It was muggy and humid to start and cold and rainy in the later hours of the race. There were approximately 9000 people running today (only 2500 or so running the full marathon), which seems like a nice small race. But when the race starts out on a thin boardwalk and meanders through small streets, running with 9000 others feels like the running of the bulls.

And then there was the part where I hit the proverbial wall. At mile 2.

For some unknown reason (or reasons), around mile 2, my upper legs began tingling, feeling heavy and tight, my finger swelled up like sausages, I already had a sweaty salt mustache, my heart was racing, my breathing was inconsistent and felt like absolute crap. I pushed through trying to find my rhythm (or any rhythm, for that matter). But my legs continued to tingle and it was spreading down my legs, eventually getting to a point where I had little feeling in my calves and feet. By mile 5, after ditching the paceless pacer, it was becoming obvious to Abby that I wasn't doing well. I continued to assure her that I was hurting and confused, but okay. Having compiled a song list pre-race, we were excited to have a 26.2 mile sing-a-long. Trying to take my mind off my ailing and failing body, Abby offered to sing and I happily welcomed the distraction. She began singing "Maria" from The Sound of Music (a personal favorite soundtrack to sing during races because I know every word and singing all the songs start to finish occupies a good chunk of time). She sang the first two lines and then I tried to join in. I couldn't even my breath enough to do anything remotely close to singing. I exhaustively exhaled every third word or so, even though I desperately wanted to sing each and every one and do the arm motions as well. I knew things weren't going well and likely wouldn't be getting better.

Throughout training, Abby and I were very clear that we would attempt our goal, but should we be having an off day, midrace reevaluation could and would take place. I staved off reevaluation for almost 7 miles before realizing that I was getting worse and couldn't foresee getting better. We reevaluated. I told Abby that I was disappointed in myself for feeling as I was, especially because I couldn't determine a cause or explanation. More importantly, I knew I'd be more disappointed if I let my problems affect her. She was feeling and looking great. So I told her to go. I hesitated doing so, not because I didn't want to run alone or want her to go ahead, but because I was extremely scared by what was happening to me and wanted someone there in case I got worse. I told her I was positive that no matter what I would finish the marathon, I just didn't know how long it would take me or what physical shape I would be in by the finish. We made a few promises and shared a good luck hug. She ran ahead (looking fantastic) and I began walking (looking like hell). At that point, I was quite sure that I would be doing a 7 hour marathon.

When Abby and I parted ways, I was demoralized. I was upset with myself, upset with my body, upset with the weather, upset with the pacer, upset with a lot of things, upset for reasons I didn't know. One thing I did know and was completely sure about was that I had the ability inside of me to continue on and refocus myself away from the pain and towards my new goal: finishing the marathon. After a short pity party and dismissing the worst case scenario (being so dehydrated and hyponatremic that I would have an abnormal heart rhythm and pass out on the side of the road), I composed myself, drank some Gatorade, stretched my legs and continued moving forward.

I have done races of many distances, with varying levels of difficulty, in most every type of weather condition and with differing amounts of training. As a result, I know that I have an amazingly innate ability to get through just about anything. When I started doing endurance races (triathlons and marathons), I quickly discovered something about myself that I hadn't known before: I have a ridiculous amount of willpower, a extremely high level of endurance and am as stubborn as the stubbornest mule ever. Simply put, I do not give up.

So as defeated, distressed, upset, disappointed, troubled, saddened, confused and pissed off as I was, I quickly shook off these feelings and reminded myself that I had the power within me to overcome all that had already happened and anything that would come. Having little to no feeling in my legs for nearly 8 miles meant that even as I felt better, my legs were not 100% and would not return to such. I did, however, have one muscle in my body that was working better than ever and would end up having the performance of a lifetime: my brain. (OK, science buffs, I know the brain is not actually a muscle. Details, details.)

Just as Peter Pan said, I thought lovely, wonderful thoughts and up I went, flying. (Actually, I was running, but you get the point.) Stopping to walk and drink Gatorade and water at every water stop and running in the interim, I found my rhythm by mile 11 and was feeling much better. But I continued to remain overly conscious that my positive thoughts were the most important thing keeping me going.

I began noticing inspirational quotes on the back of other runner’s shirts:
“You don’t realize your own strength until being strong is the only option you have.”
“We are put in situations to build our character. Not to destroy us.”
"Run if you can, walk if you have to, crawl if you must, just keep moving forward."
"If we did all the things we are capable of, we would literally astound ourselves."
"It matters how you are going to finish."

I thought of things to humor myself:
- how silky (or not so silky) the roads were
- wondering how many comfortable beds there were in the mansions we ran past
- looking for runners with wedgies
- thinking about how much I would have to tip the person who did my post-race pedicure (my toes were in bad shape before the marathon and surely didn't improve after running most of the race in soggy shoes)

I sang songs to myself (some appropriate, some just plain random):
"We Shall Overcome"
"This Land Is My Land, This Land Is Your Land"
"I Have Confidence"
"Pocketful of Sunshine"
"I Want It That Way"
"Chasing Pavements"
And of course, the Rocky theme song, from miles 24 1/2 until the end.

I tried to help and inspire others:
- as I ran passed a woman breathing heavy and painfully sauntering along, I looked her in the eye and reminder her that the Ironman Finisher hat she was wearing meant she could do anything. We would later meet up and run together for a few minutes, sharing Ironman stories.
- at mile 21, I heard a man say "they said this was easy." I quickly responded by saying "there's no such thing as an easy marathon, that's the point. But you are closer than you've ever been to finishing this one, so keep going."
- while I was taking a walk break, a man ran past me and said "c'mon you've only got less than 4 miles left" prompting me to quickly begin running and blow past him. He yelled out "what the hell just got into you?" I turned around and said "you telling me the best news I've heard all day!"
- when I saw Ali at mile 23, I told her that in less than three miles, she was going to finish the fastest marathon she's ever done and that I couldn't wait to see her cross the finish line with her arms in the air. About 20 minutes later, I very loudly cheered and screamed as she sprinted across the finish line with her arms triumphantly above her head.

I also looked into myself for inspiration. The day before the race, someone at the expo shared a great late race inspiration strategy. He told us to think of 6 people who we would tell about our marathon accomplishment. Starting at mile 20 of the marathon, we were to picture one person per mile and imagine their response, visualize their reaction and envision how proud they would be. I had picked my six people, but I never got to the second part. That's because I realized I had far more than six people who would be proud, who would be amazed, who would be happy, no matter how I finished. I knew that the amount of perseverance and strength that I displayed today was enough and perhaps more impressive than a fast time. I started thinking, instead, of people who wouldn't be impressed. I couldn't think of a single person.

I was easily able to think of the one person who I knew would be the proudest: me. As I rounded the corner onto the boardwalk and ran the last mile with the ocean to my right and a host of rain-soaked spectators to my left, I knew what I was about to do would be one of my greatest accomplishments. I crossed the finish line ecstatic, relieved, tired and beaming with pride. My body had tried to fail me, but my mind performed better than I expected. In the face of challenge, you can either alter the challenge or alter yourself to meet the challenge. I couldn't change the marathon; it wouldn't get shorter or easier. I could and did, however, change my mindset to reach up to the challenge, knowing that what was inside of me was stronger and more powerful than the task ahead of me.

Today did not go as planned. But it was still a great day.

Marathoners pre-race, smiling
(Abby, Andrew, Bess, Ali)


Marathoners (and support crew) post-race, still smiling
(Bess, Andrew, Abby, Brent, Rob, Ali)

It would be remiss if I failed to mention the stellar performances by my fellow runners. Abby, Ali and Andrew each triumphed at points and struggled at others but, most importantly, finished strong. With personal best times and performances to boot. I hope they are as proud of themselves as I am of them.