Sunday May 20th I ran my first marathon. May 20th is also my wedding anniversary, this year celebrating 17 years with the same, wonderful man - Hasse:
We ran 42 km (26 miles) through the streets of beautiful Copenhagen, enjoying the bands that played for us, the beautiful architecture, the sun and the people cheering us on. I flew. I was on fire. My entire system was working beyond comparison - my breathing was good, my legs strong and I felt a surge of energy flowing through my veins. Kilometer after kilometer passed, and as we reached the half way mark, I was so optimistic that I was smiling.
25 km down the road I was still optimistic and had lots of energy. When we hit 30 k, I began to feel a heaviness in my legs, and a dull sort of pain started pulling in my left thigh. People around us began walking, quitting, lying down and several puked. I was determined not to walk, to only slow down long enough to drink. The sun was hot and there was little shadow, but Hasse had planned well and coached me not only by setting the pace, but also guiding my intake of fluids. His plan worked. We had a really good pace and neither of us dehydrated like hundreds of others around us.
When we began running the last 5 k, I was working hard to keep up the optimism in my head, continually telling myself I was almost there, that quitting would be too bitter now, and that I still had the energy I needed. Strangely enough, I never once had the feeling that I ought to quit. I was exceptionally tired, yes, but so determined to actually complete that quitting simply wasn't an option. Neither was walking.
As we hit 40 k, the asphalt was sticky from all the sugar people had been drinking and spilling. We dodged numerous walking runners and saw 3 or 4 people who had collapsed and were waiting for ambulances. The weather had surprised us all, being the hottest day of the year yet, and the ambulances were not prepared for the amount of dehydrating patients. We were later told that they ran out of IV fluids and had to bring in extra from surrounding hospitals.
The last 800 meters were incredible. I am so awed. I am awed by the fantastic crowd lending us strength through their cheers. As we passed yet 100 meters, they counted down for us... "only 700 m to go!!" As I saw the blue finish line loom ahead of us, I wanted to let go of everything and sprint across it, but Hasse kept placing his hand on my shoulder, reminding me to save energy for the remaining distance.
People cheered us on. Two little boys broke out of the crowd as their daddy sped ahead of us, grabbing his hands and running the last 200 m with him.
Hasse and I clasped hands as we ran the last little bit, crossing the finish line together after 4 hours, 35 minutes and 12 seconds of continuous running. My free hand shot up in the air as I roared, feeling victorious, and suddenly the emotion overwhelmed me, and I cried as I was awarded my medal.
Here, several days later, I am still in awe. I am amazed at what a body can do, with the right training, the correct food and the right attitude. I am touched the crowd cheering on people they didn't know. I am grateful that my husband went through it with me (he run a lot, is in better shape and much faster then me - but he slowed his pace to help me through. Isn't that love?)
When I think about the last 800 m, tears still find their way into my eyes. It was huge. It was amazing, and honestly, I am so happy, so excited and also somewhat proud. I surprised myself completely. When I started this project, I didn't really believe in it. I have several times declared that I would quit and not enter the marathon. But somehow, I kept at it, I worked for it, and I went through with it.
Would I do it again? Maybe. I haven't decided yet. It's a huge feat. Would I recommend it? Absolutely! If you love running, you ought to try a marathon. But make sure your debut is in a big event with people there to cheer you on - the crowd makes a really big difference.
Go, run!
Watch this - Copenhagen Marathon 2012
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