A “breakdown” in two senses of the word. It’s a full three weeks after race day has come and gone, and when people ask me how it went, I’m still responding with a monosyllabic noise instead of words. That’s honestly the reason for the delay of this post as well. It’s a little exhausting reliving the experience, even just mentally.
About a week before the marathon, Chris and I watched a short video on marathoning by elite runner Nick Bester to try and get hyped. He’s one of the most uplifting and stoked-to-be-alive runner/vloggers out there, so he’s been our natural go-to for months now. It had been a hell of a training cycle with ups and downs galore, and we just needed a morale boost. One thing he said that stuck with me (which actually was not very uplifting at all) was, “The marathon will expose you–will expose any weakness you have.” As it turns out, he could not have been more on the money with that one. Athletically, I’ve never been through an experience that made me feel quite as unsure of my abilities as this one.
But…I finished (4 hours, 20 minutes). And so did Chris (3 hours, 6 minutes). And that’s the thing here worth celebrating. I think anyone who crosses that line in a marathon deserves to celebrate that achievement. Because I wanted to be under four hours, it was a little hard to feel like celebrating something that was so far off that goal. But it’s 26 fucking miles!! The furthest I’ve ever run in my life and therefore a lifetime achievement. So there’s that.
The best thing about the Athens Marathon, hands down, is its energy. 21,000 people chomping at the bit to go tackle all that uphill misery. Standing in my starting block hearing the first two starting guns go off, knowing Chris was getting off in Block 1, made me literally dizzy with excitement. As the course went on, the crowds on the side of the road thickened, everyone’s kids reaching out for high 5s, traditional Greek music and pop music, drum lines, everyone clapping and shouting Bravo! It was unreal.
The first 5k, for me, was oddly the most emotional. I couldn’t believe how light and good my body felt after all the cramped up traveling to get there, the myriad injuries, and the jet lag still slightly clouding my mind. And the sheer fact that I was there and doing the thing after experiencing so many hiccups along the way. I just felt so grateful to be surrounded by all of these people who also loved running. I rode that high through about 10k, just taking it all in. The Greek countryside, scruffy mountains surrounding us like the rims of a bowl, sunrise clouds opening up into one of the bluest skies I’d ever seen.
The uphill started gently at about mile seven, and the first few hills I didn’t slow at all for. Hills have always been one of my strengths, and living in Portland, I get in hills of some kind even on easy runs. So, when I started slowing down ever so slightly in miles 8-9, I wasn’t worried. I knew there was plenty of time and also plenty of hill left. I just needed to chill out a little and keep it under 9 minute pace. I kept taking in fuel right on schedule every 30 minutes and drinking water liberally. Basically whenever I felt thirsty. I was pretty optimistic through mile 11.
These rose-colored glasses were rudely stripped from my face about halfway through mile 12, when something happened I couldn’t have prepared myself for. My IT bands completely locked up. This was something I hadn’t experienced at any point during my training. There were various types of pain I had prepared myself for. I knew the last 6-10 miles would be a shit show, because that’s what everyone prepares you for. I knew that at some point my knees were going to hurt, because they always do. I also anticipated a hamstring flare up because I knew it wasn’t completely healed. This was unlike any of that. It was like someone was holding a burning torch up to the sides of my legs, like my IT bands were turning to stone. Just in time for mile 13, which had the most gain of any single mile (137 feet by my watch). My heart rate was in the high 190s by this point, and it felt like no matter how much I drank I was perpetually thirsty. Thank GOD I had my hydration pack. The 2.5k between aid stations was starting to feel years apart.
I began to really struggle mentally because with each passing mile of barely being able to move my legs, I could tell sub-4 was slipping out of reach. I pulled over to the side of the road somewhere in mile 17 to slather my entire body in Biofreeze. Everything hurt. I had to abandon my strict fueling strategy around this time as well because the pain was making me too nauseous to take anything in. I opted for one Clif Blok each mile instead of 3 every 30 minutes, and even that was a tall order.
The final stretch into the Panathenaic Stadium was the coolest running experience I have ever had. I was able to escape briefly from the pain prison of my mind to appreciate just how amazing it was to finish the race underneath the Olympic rings in front of hundreds of spectators up in the stands.
The next week was ROUGH, physically, for both Chris and I. It turns out that Chris bonked at the same exact mile I did, though I don’t think he bonked quite as hard as me. Every muscle in my body felt like it had gone through a meat grinder. Abs, arms, shoulders, back, neck. My quads could hardly support my body weight enough to lower down to toilet seat level. It was a special brand of humble pie I was chewing on that week. But it did get better slowly. We got out for walks and ate as much delicious Greek food and wine as we could stuff into our bodies.
Chris caught the bug and can’t wait to do another marathon. For me, it’s a bit more complicated. There was a lot more negativity in this training cycle than I wanted to let creep in. More than anything, I want to be healthy and confident before training for ANY other race. And that’s going to take a while. I broke my toe a week after the marathon and haven’t been able to run another step yet. I’d like to say it was from doing something cool on vacation, like cliff jumping into the Mediterranean, but all I really did was drop my phone on it. (iPhones are deceivingly heavy, okay?!!) I’m playing it safe with the full recommended healing time of 4-6 weeks, and hitting the cross training and strength training pretty hard in the meantime. A lot of runners might be bummed to have to take this much time off, but I’m actually okay with it. And I think that points to something important: burnout. Since I started running again two years ago, I’ve been on the go. One race goal after another, and not running many of them with a level of confidence I’d like to.
So, I’ll leave this on a hopeful note. I’m looking forward to getting strong and healthy. And seeing what a long period of dedicated base-building and running for fun can do for me. Because why spend so much time doing something you can’t enjoy?
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