Glass City Marathon 2012--Part 1

Back in December, just before the new year, I registered to run the Glass City Marathon--my first full marathon.  I wasn't completely sure what I was getting myself into, and I don't think I was taking things too seriously initially.  For the first couple of weeks following that, other marathoners here and there asked about my training plan (uh, what?).  I got a wake-up call when a ding-dong in our Saturday morning group asked in her typical ding-dong way, "So, when are you going to start training?"  Since I am used to her asking, uh, not the best questions, my immediate response was chock-full of irritation.  "I am training.  This is training."  After all, we were doing an 8-mile run.  Now and then I'd make that 8-miler into 10 or 12.  But for the few minutes immediately following her question as we ran up the towpath in Side Cut Park, I thought, "When am I going to start training?"

I took a lot of advice, most of which led to Hal Higdon.  It was recommended that I follow his Intermediate 1 marathon training plan.  Coincidentally, I was getting more than enough miles on weekdays, but I had technically already missed a couple of longer long runs.  I just jumped right into where I should have been had I actually given the entire training plan 18 weeks.  Quickly, things began falling into place.  I made a couple of mistakes on the way up to maximum mileage, like running 11+ miles in the middle of the week just because I was feeling it.  Instead of real speed work, I made my Thursday night run into a run-like-hell 3-miler.  I only ran 15.5 miles on a day on which I should have run 17.  I even completely missed my second 20-miler, I think because I was sick, and final 12-miler because of a road trip and poor planning.  Online, I read blogs of other runners who resented that they made such mistakes in their training and that it led in all cases to inevitable disappointing marathon finishes.  Still, none of that discouraged me.

All of that got me to the morning of April 21st pretty much bursting with excitement.  I got out of bed and did my final training run--2 miles.  I felt fresh and so ready for 26.2 the next day.  The day went on, Joe went golfing in the afternoon, and I was left to my own devices at home, of course staying off of my feet.  Pretty much as soon as Joe left the house, I flipped the switch from excitement into freak-out mode.  I had a freaking swarm of butterflies in my stomach.  I couldn't attach the feeling to any single problem or worry.  I wasn't concerned about not reaching my goal time.  I didn't think I'd be a DNF.  The possibility of injury never crossed my mind.  I was just nervous.

We went out for pizza with Tammy, Alex, and Alyssa (all of whom would be running the half with Joe).  Throughout dinner I felt nauseous; the feeling subsided temporarily when Joe and I had a killer draw in Keno.  I was starving, so I inhaled a couple of slices of pizza and breadsticks.  I tried for a final slice of pizza, but hit the wall and suddenly craved french fries.  I destroyed a basket of those in what had to be record time.  Hmm, all of this talk of hitting walls and record time...and it's only dinner the night before the race. :)

Joe and I got home around 9:00.  We attached our bibs and laid out all of our gear for the next morning.  I attached some athletic tape with my name written in Sharpie to my shirt.  We got into bed and I shared my woes with Joe.  I told him I was going to end up with an ulcer, given how worried I was.  He laughed at me, which made me feel good inside, we turned off the TV, he fell asleep, and I just lay there, wide awake.  By 11:20 I still wasn't asleep, so I popped a Zolpidem.  Good night.

At 4:50AM I woke up to go pee.  The alarm went off for Joe at 5:01 and our day was underway.  In 2 hours, I'd be starting my first ever 26.2-mile race.