The Whole Marathon Story (new stuff starts in paragraph 10, regarding "Duck Tales"). The Title is "A Beautiful Marathon"

My goal for my very first marathon was to run it in fewer than 5 hours. My vision (which, in my mission language meant the goal I REALLY wanted, but probably wouldn't get) was to run the race in under 4 hours and 22 minutes, because this is how long it would take to run the race if I ran it with sub-10 mile splits. Starting last week, I even had a dream: I dreamed of running the race in fewer than 4 hours and 4 minutes because that is how fast my sister ran her marathon a few years ago. I was hesitant to share that dream with anyone but my husband because it seemed like such an impossible task. Who was I to target such a low time for a first marathon? Would it depress me if I couldn't realize that dream?
 

As I neared race day, advice scrolled across my mind from runners who had completed marathons before. The advice is paraphrased:

Bekah Saltsman, a dear friend from college: "Don't set a time goal for your first race. Know that your body will shut down and you'll have to find new muscles to serve you to finish. Having a fast half marathon doesn't mean your marathon will be fast."

A famous marathoner whose name I forget, who tipped his hat to slow marathoners, saying: "I can't imagine running for 5 or 6 hours."

Katie Belnap, a fellow Beehive advisor," Oh, I ran my marathon in 4 hours. You'll be fine. You can do that."

Katie Slade, a friend at the Apple Athletic Club, where I work in the childcare facility to pay for my gym membership, "I ran mine in 4:25 injured. You'll do great!"

Steve Gudmonson, my neighbor, who ran and won marathons for years, "You will hit the wall. Plan on it. Just relax your muscles and run through it. After your first marathon, you are going to be so tough."

With all these numbers, warnings, and encouraging words in mind, I also debated the right socks to wear, when to shave my legs, whether to bring hairspray to my mom's house, when to take Ibuprofen, how many Power gels to tuck into my sports bra at the start of my race, when to drink them, how many trips to take to the port-a-potty, when to eat, when to take off my sweats, when to take off my long sleeve t-shirt, and how to put my time chip in my laces in such a way that it wouldn't fall off or impede my running.

I was bussed up the canyon at 4:45 AM on race day, making friends with my seat-mate, Eva. We saw all the runners huddled by campfires for warmth, and joined a small huddle so we could be closer to the fire. We joked that we'd make ourselves smell "better" by campfires than we would by racing, and we stood in the gusts of smoke because the crowds were smaller there. It was eyelid-closed black that morning, except by the camp fires, and veteran runners of the Provo City Marathon assured us that it was warmer than last year.

After long huddled conversations, jogging to the finish line and back, 3 trips to the port-a-potty with new friends, and stripping off my sweats but NOT my long-sleeve t-shirt in the warm, inviting bus, I had 3 minutes to go before start time. I tucked my clothes in my backpack, froze out to the start line, made my way to the 9:09 pacing team, and was surprised to hear the starting gun go off. I uttered a quick prayer with a new friend, Lynnette, and off I flew to chase my goal, vision, and dream. . .

The first song on my Ipod was "Duck Tales." I played it two times. I ran past maybe a hundred runners, deciding that my race strategy would be to run sub-9 mile splits until I couldn't do it anymore. I had been running sub-9's for more than a month, with the one exception being my 20 mile run, which I ran at a 9:09 pace. So I just ran to feel comfortable, listening to my body. At every mile marker, I calculated what my time should be, based on my sub-9 split goal. My times grew steadily shorter than the 9-mile split pace. Every mile, I saw myself distancing myself from that 9MPH pace, and just felt happy that I felt comfortable and healthy. I felt so grateful that I wasn't injured. I prayed throughout the race, thanking Heavenly Father for this gift to run and feel well.

At the start of the race, a man wanted to chat with me for a bit, and pointed out that I was on track to qualify for Boston. I told him I had no interest in getting a BQ this race--I was a "wild card", just doing my first race.

Throughout the race, runners would let me know they were going to use me to pace themselves and I advised against it, always letting them know I was  a wild card.

I had asked Doug (my sweet husband) to meet me at around 13.5 miles to give me two gels and a packet of salt. I worried when I didn't see him at the 13.5 location. I had turned off my Ipod so I could hear him if he called for me. Also, I wanted to give him my long-sleeve t-shirt, which I had wrapped around my waist around mile 7. I was a little disappointed that we had missed each other, but just kept running. Luckily, at mile 14, at the Provo Town Mall, Doug called out to me, and we did a quick exchange--I got water, gels, and salt, and he got my long-sleeve blue shirt. I let him know my half-marathon time--a 1:45--so he could report it to my family. They were going to use my half marathon time to decide when to come to the race.

My quads and hamstrings burned, but I told myself they were just warm. The sun was out and I wished there were more aid stations and more supplies at the aid stations. I would have liked some sunscreen and Vaseline. But every three or so miles, I got water and Gatorade, and had a gel. I walked at each station, and it felt nice! It was never for longer than 10 seconds, and so much easier than placing waters and gels at different intervals along my training routes, and rifling through plastic bags to get gels and water. 

My first time getting a 9+ split was at mile 21, but I stopped doing the math to see where I would be if I were going at a 9 mile pace a few miles before that. At mile 20, I calculated what times I would need to get to achieve a sub-4 hour marathon. If I could stay below ten minutes for each mile, I could achieve my new goal. So from then on, I viewed my miles against the required time needed for each mile, and the distance grew again between my allotted time and my actual time. I hit a few more 9+ miles, and a few in the 8's, and started to get excited. I was almost there! 

 I ran down University Avenue, thanking the traffic cops who never made me wait. 

I am so thrilled to report that I achieved my goal, my vision, and my dream during my race. I blew kisses to my family as I made it to the finish line in 3 hours, 42 minutes, 41 seconds. 

 

I'll never forget the overwhelming joy and wonder I felt as I saw my cheering family (Doug, Marshall, Shauna and Blake) and knew I had done my very best in this race. My very best exceeded my wildest hopes, and I felt gratitude for the strength I never knew I had.

Thanks to everyone who prayed for me, supported me, and loved me through this special experience. Thanks in particular to those at the finish line, and to my mom, Isaac, Lucy, Brooklyn, Peanut, River, Haven, Cabell, Summer, and Valley--who all missed me finish, but were there a few minutes later.