This is an email and a re-cap that my best friend Jackie wrote and one that I dont ever want to forget either, as it was her memory of her experience of the Ironman day. Our experience was similar, yet totally different, in our own ways... and with her permission, I wanted to share her email with you all...
To my wonderful friends and family,
(I wanted to send out an e-mail to anyone interested in hearing what I had to say, but especially to thank, thank, thank EACH of you for making this day what it was. I cannot, absolutely cannot at all, express just how preciously unique every single one of you is to me, and I will always remember, specifically, what each of you contributed to this experience in your own priceless way).
Have you never heard? Have you never understood? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of all the earth. He never grows weak or weary. No one can measure the depths of his understanding. He gives power to the weak and strength to the powerless. Even youths will become weak and tired, and young men will fall in exhaustion. But those who trust in the LORD will find new strength. They will soar high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint.
Isaiah 40:28-31
Four minutes before our alarm clock barked, Amy jumped over to my bed and eagerly woke me up. It was 4:06 am. I freaked. This was it. 285 days of commitment. I couldn't think beyond the moment. Teeth brushed. Check. Face washed. Check. Prayers. Check. Suit, time-chip, goggles, swim cap, check, check, check. We walked out the door, lights out, and hopped on an empty hotel elevator. I sensed we were the first athletes awake. We were allowed to do last minute bike maintenance, so Amy pumped my tires, and put my water bottles in place, while I walked to the starting line to hold our spots. I got my body marked, number 588, and then took a seat on the cold concrete, waiting for the rest of the gang to appear. Before long, Sarah, Amy, Jason, Rory, Madelyn, and I sat in our circle just in awe of what was about to happen. Two Gatorades, a Cliff Bar, a peanut butter and honey sandwich, and banana later, I bolted for the port-a-pot. Still wondering how much longer till my family would arrive, and how they would ever find me, I open the bathroom door to exit, and one foot from my face is Justin! He turns to my dear friend Deb, who is rummaging through the crowd with him, and reassures her of our ESP-twin thing. We played it off like this is totally normal, which it actually is ;), and immediately we knew this was going to be a perfect day.
A few minutes later I am with my parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and some friends, just getting excited, sharing some last minute thoughts when the “gate” opens and we follow one another, single file, to the starting docks, unable to say much, and shivering from the abnormally cold weather. We stop in line to say a group prayer, thanking God for this amazing opportunity, which He gave us all as a powerful gift. Sarah, Amy, and I give our last hugs, and “love you's,” … and at precisely 7:00.45, I hit the water. The water was warm, my pace felt good; the sun was shining on me. There is nothing but the quiet and calm. There has always been something I've cherished about the water. It could not have been more enjoyable. There were no athletes near me by the time I cleared the channel. Not a soul, but my friend Jason. I saw him every time I turned to breath. We stayed side by side until the end of our 2.4 mile swim. It was a wonderful awareness. I could see the fans along the shore, but only heard the silence. This was one of my favorite times of the whole day, and all of me didn’t want it to end.
Exiting the water was thrilling. It was the first time I heard people screaming my name. I ran through the transition area, grabbed my bike gear bag, and headed to the changing tent. Two women kindly helped me undress, then dress. They caked on my sunscreen. I ran out the tent and see Deb, Todd and Christian. Deb is snapping pictures, and Todd is screaming at me to hurry. I force the last drops of Powerade down, and then throw my water bottle at him because I didn’t know what else to do with it. I finagle my way through the 2,500 bikes, find my red Felt, clip in, and then pedal for 112 miles. At mile 50, I cried. Not because of pain, but because of joy. I was riding through the country-side, forgetting what I was doing, but was quickly reminded when I look to see an IRONMAN sign sitting alone in a field next to me. The IRONMAN symbol was first worn on the Timex wrapped around my wrist when I was a young swimmer. Around the age of 10 I was told about the IRONMAN. I knew that someday I wanted to do it, but I did not ever believe I actually would. It seemed unreachable, and only for the fierce, insane people with thick accents, washboard abs and freakishly amazing talent. I was none of these, but here I am, looking at this same symbol of strength and discipline that fascinated me as a child, and the dream would soon be mine. All I could do was “sit” in awe of thanksgiving, thanking my Lord behind wet eyes for making this happen.
For nearly 25 miles of my bike, I had to pee so badly that I couldn’t even sit in the aero-position. It hurt. Always indecisive, I spent nearly an hour deciding whether to stop at a port-a-pot, or be like Lance, and go in my pants. I tried the latter, but to no avail, so when mile 65 came, Deb, Todd, and Christian were manning a penalty tent, and I decided to dismount my saddle, say hello, and pop-a-squat. And so this is what I did. And I didn’t care who saw. I chatted with them for a minute or two, and then got back on my seat for the rest of the day. One rest stop was all I took.
The run; wow. Mile one hurt. Miles 2-9 flew by. 10-12 I wondered how long till I’d walk. Mile 13-15 I saw Amy up ahead and was finally with her by about mile 16. Amy and I spent the next 8 miles talking, walking, running, moving fast, moving slow, stopping at toilets, eating, drinking, grabbing our own stomachs in pain, resting hands on our knees waiting for the vomit, hunched over, nauseous, dizzy, and in pain. I remember my hips screaming at me, my arthritic knees were painless; it seemed to be everything else that hurt. At multiple times I felt like asking others “excuse me, would you say I am walking right now, or running.” I had no idea. At mile 23 I remember just thinking this was it. I was done. Three miles was all that remained, and by 8:00 PM I would have crossed the finish line; a moment I have waited for and worked at for so long. I knew it would be electric. I didn’t catch his name, but my last conversation was with a three-time IM finisher, a 38 year old from Chicago. We chatted for about 2 miles, and then with less than a minute till we turned “the corner” he asked me if “I was ready?” It was more of a statement than a question. He sort of laughed, and in his face told me that this was going to be like nothing I’d experienced, and he was dead right. I saw 41 of some of the most significant people in my life, all of them were there for me, pushing me till the end, smiling, excited, elated, some crying, some laughing. I saw hundreds of strangers making the loudest commotion, banging, yelling, music playing, lights flashing. It was intense, and magic and explosive. I thought I would truly bust from elation and happiness. I felt nothing in my body, just all in my heart. I cross the line. I look to my right and see my twin crying; I had the laughter, he had the tears. I next see, then squeeze, my parents and future sister, I grab my mom’s cell phone with my sister on the other line, then hugged everyone else as they trickle my way, still only able to smile. I am without words, just pure and simple bliss. Minutes behind me were my two training buddies, Sarah Menefee and Amy Miranda, two girls that became unique in my life; from the outside looking in, this experience can’t be understood, but from the inside looking out it can’t be explained. This is what we share together. And I love these two friends extraordinarily and ceaselessly.
I cannot articulate what lives inside that yearned for this experience, but it’s been there since I was a little girl. Somewhere in the last 9+ months I believe Christ gave me a greater view of what was at hand; the road of life, a road to the end. A journey promised to not be easy, a guarantee of prospering, but facing many trials. A fight we are to take on, and endure with faith. We do have a finish line to get to. One where I know for certain I will meet my Savior, and the greatest “finish” I believe man has found on earth will only darkly pale in comparison to the one still ahead. This to me is the inner, spiritual gift I’ve been blessed to see. It’s when I can say that I see the forest for the trees. I can believe in the gloriously unseen, and all things appear meaningless to me in comparison with eternal realities. It’s when I am alone with my Lord on this crazy road of life and He says to me to remember what He said through Paul, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, and I have kept the faith.” And because of what Christ did on the Cross-, His unfailing and unshakable love, we will one day soon get our reward. I only imagine it’s beyond compare. Not comprehendible; a time ‘when the sky rolls up and mountains fall on their knees’ – I will continue to dream of a finish like that.
Much love, keep moving forward- Jackie....
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Friday, September 4, 2009
“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, and I have kept the faith.”
I am not sure I will every accurately describe what took place last Sunday, but I am going to take a stab at it. Last Sunday was quite possibly one of the greatest days of my life...
Saturday evening we got back to the room, eagerly awaiting bedtime so we could snuggle up, get to bed early, sleep soundly, and wake up at the crack of dawn. And we did. As is my custom, I woke up minutes before the alarm, jumped on Jackie's bed, so excited for what was about to happen that day, I could hardly wait. We then both prayed... "God, please don't let us forget anything..." Dont worry, I had already forgotten my tennis shoes. I am not kidding. I forgot to put my tennis shoes in my transition bag. Thank goodness Taylor was in charge of transition and could put my shoes in my bag for me (something that is not supposed to be done, but something she so graciously did for me or my day would have been over). In any case, it was 4:06 AM, we were up, eating peanut butter and jelly, bananas, and crackers. Drinking a lot of water. Anything I could to keep from getting nervous, and I think I did a good job. It took us about 10 minutes to get our suits on and head out and I could have sworn we would be the first ones at transition to check our bikes and get in line (I was the designated bike checker, Jackie was going to get in line)... The transitions didnt even open up until 5 AM and we were there before 4:30 AM... But alas, we were not the only ones who knew the secret... there was a soft opening at 4:30 AM and as we got there. people were already in line. So, Jackie went to get in line, and i filled up the water bottles, pumped our tires, checked the bikes and hurried to meet her (and really hoped we had a good spot in line at Tumblweed!).
Leave it to Jackie to have a great spot in line, about 20 people back (out of close to 3,000!)... I found her quickly, sat down with her, Sarah, Jason, Madelyn, Rory and 2,698 of our closest friends and all of our families in the crystal clear morning. The morning was crisp, anticipation was in the air and music started to play louder and louder as 5 am came, then 6 am... 6:30 and 6:45... we started to move towards the water at 6:45 am, as we watched the pros get in the water. Jackie, Sarah and I huddled together for a prayer. As we did, a man tapped me on the shoulder, "Mind if I join you?" Then another, and another... soon, in the bright morning light, we had close to thirty athletes praying for a safe, healthy, peaceful day. Who prayed this prayer? Marc Barlow, my partner, my confidant, who had come down to cheer my on early into the dawn. We wrapped up the prayer quickly sang My Old Kentucky Home Proudly, as my eyes teared up. Then the National Anthem... this song never ceases to make my heart beat loudly. The very sound of the melody brings thoughts of every swim meet I have been a part of come flashing back to my mind so quickly, I start to quiver, and this morning was no different. This morning, I stood there, listening to the music, feeling oddly at peace as the sun rose, thanking God from the bottom of my heart that I had this body that would keep me in motion for the next 12-15 hours. How could this be? I have no idea, but I am so blessed. That is what went through my mind... THEN WE WERE OFF...
Some probably thought the swim start to an Ironman was pure insanity. This was not. This start is a time trial start which means you jump off one at a time (ok, maybe there are 4 or 5 people jumping at a time), but I have an advantage in the swim, because, well, I can swim. So I stayed calm, started my watch, quickly found open water on the right, did a few thump kicks to get a guy off my feet and swam right up the channel. It was the most peaceful, clear-heade swim I have ever done. I have swam a lot in my life (I would venture to say more than 99.9% of the people in that water) and that was the most enjoyable swim I have ever done. I was completely on my own. No one was in front of or behind me for 100 yards at least. I would pick up my head and look up and back just to make sure I wasnt in Indiana and see faint splashes in the distance, see a kayaker, or just glance at the sun coming up over the river. I would over and over thank God for the gift he had given me. I cant tell you how many times i did that. Before long, I was rounding the last buoy, heading for home. I looked toward the shore, in awe of all of the people that were standing there cheering all of us on. I was unsure of how this exit from the water was going to go. I had passed a few pros, but where did I stand... how fast did I go? Where was I? Open water swimming is very disconcerting, so I was a little unsure of how this was going to go, how to get back to transition, where fans would be, h ow to get out of the water, etc. So, I was a little nervous. But I had little choice... so I thought... here goes nothing...
I exited the water to ROARS!! Literally, I went from complete peace and quiet to utter chaos and a man on a load speaker that said something along the lines of "Our first Louisville finisher... AMY MIRANDA!!" Then everyone seemed to freak out and I saw a blur of what seemed like everyone I know, as I exited the water and ran to the transition area, grabbed my bag from Taylor, into the tent where a few girls help me undress from my suit, then dress into my bike clothes, then I was quickly (or so I thought... keep in mind, there were a few pros in and out of transition in the time I was there), out of the tent and into the sea of bikes (see below)... I found my bike and was out onto leg #2 of the day- 112 miles. People always say something is going to go wrong. Well, the swim was perfect. I found out quickly my bike problem- I forgot to fix my bike computer- the contraption that tracks my miles and speed. So I stopped and tried to fix it once on River Road (to no avail), then gave up, said I didnt care kept on going and got more and more worried as all these very very fast people WHOOSHED past me... I say that literally. They had disc wheels on and they make that sound. Finally I got up the hill at 1694, I saw Brian, and I thought that would be a smart time to make the fix because if I broke it he could fix it (although that wasnt correct, he couldnt help). Well, I fixed it myself which was a small miracle, and I was on my way- thank GOD! At this point, I was coasting, felt great and was eating and drinking right on schedule. Thanks in large part to Deb's watch and Lewis's idea of retrofitting it to my bike so it beep'd every 20 minutes, telling me to do something. Everything was going great!
I got to LaGrange and everyone was yelling and screaming, they announced my name and again I thanked God for what he had done for me. I am so blessed. This is another time I cried. And again, no pain here. Just happiness that I was out there, enjoying the most beautiful day of the year, doing something I loved. So I kept going, eating, drinking, pounding the goo packets, like a college kid pounds beer. I stopped once for my special needs bag (for future reference to all others that do this course in the years to come- you can stop twice. That would have been good to know). Before I knew it, I had finished my second lap of the loop and I was heading back on 42 towards downtown Louisville. Throughout the ride, I had it in the back of my head that I had to run a marathon. For anyone who has been reading this blog, you know I am not a runner. I have never run a marathon and prior to my training for this, I had not run more than 6 miles consecutively, so this was a minor stressor for me during this ride back to town. These thoughts started to enter my head as my friend Rory rolled up next to me... "Hey Amy! How are ya?!" (He was just taking it easy...) "I am doing great! But I keep thinking about this marathon coming up" "Well, someone always told me when I do these things, only live in the moment, dont think about what is coming up."... I can honestly say, that was really nice, and it was a good effort on his part, but it was completely useless in that moment. How do you ignore 26.2 miles? haha.
So anyways, it was getting closer and closer...my greatest relief was that I could take as much time in transition as I wanted. I didnt care if I sat and got a massage. I just wanted to relax when I got there. I think that got me to transition without any huge mishaps. So I rolled down 42, up the hill, down Wolf Pen and River Road, past Katie and Ryan and all my other friends and into transition where my little brother was waiting to catch my bike! Well, he didnt get to catch my bike, but I did get to blow him a kiss as I ran by. Then off I headed into the tent to change, get a pretend massage and start off on my first marathon.
I left transition and heard a voice behind me..."Fancy seeing you here!" It sounded familiar and oh yes! It was Eatherly! I cant tell you how amazing it is to hear a familiar vice after being alone for the better part of the day. Especially for someone who is as talkative as me. So I decided I would run with him and do his plan. Run, and walk the water stations... little did I know 99.9% of everyone does this. Its a good plan, if you do this next year- I suggest you try it. We started out fast, and E had to keep reminding me to stop, I felt great! ...then I got to mile 5 and started to slow down... then mile 7 and my legs started to hurt, then at about mile 8, Eatherly needed to puke and I thought, well, I am not doing as bad as that guy, surely, I am doing good. So I went on without him. 1 minute later, he passes me, telling me- I feel like a million bucks, see ya later! Then I started to hurt, REAL bad. I tried everything- gatorade, coke, pretzels, cookies, grapes, sponges, water, and in every combination. Anyone who has ever trained with me knows that all of this is bad for me with the exception of water. I cant have sugar when i train. So this started a bad spiral of stomach problems. Finally when I got to mile 15 or 16 they brought out the chicken broth and I tried that (this run was a science experiment that I dont suggest), well, that FINALLY worked. I felt much better after that, but I didnt eat much other than chicken broth, water and pretzels from then on out. At mile 13, the race directors do the meanest, cruelest thing possible... they take you TO the finish line, then make you turn around and go all the way back to where you just came from (ie Iroquois Park) and run back again. So basically, you are tired, hurting, delirious, watching seemingly fast people reach the pinnacle of their life as the run through the finish chute, and you have to turn around and go back to the furthest point in the marathon and start over. It was at this point, I wanted to die. It was also at this point, I heard someone yell my name... "AMY!!" It was Jackie.
Jackie and I ran from mile 14 to mile 23 together, step for step, during the most grueling time, suffering through stomach aches, legs that wanted to give out, dizziness, discouragement, and everything else. Come to think of it- this is what we went through all season. These miles replayed the way our summer did- sacrifice, tears, joy, and ultimately triumph. At mile 23, I told Jackie to go ahead. She was running faster than me at that point and I ws struggling to keep up. She wanted to cross the finish line together, but I thougth we both needed our own moments. We did. She ran on and I watched her go, my eyes tearing up at the thought of her running through the finishing chute, of her realizing her dream. You see, she always wanted to do this. I never thought I would. We are so different, but so much the same and I was so happy in that moment. I knew if I glanced back, I would also see Sarah not far behind. She was the reason we were where we were. She started all of this. That was when I stopped walking and vowed to never walk again. I hadnt hurt that bad during the whole race. My entire body pounded, but knowing the three of us were out there and all my friends and family were at the finish waiting for me kept me going. I just kept saying, I can do anything for 30 minutes (I only had 2 miles to go- I was going slow)...
Before I knew it, I turned the corner and it was getting louder and louder and louder. I cant describe this point very well because I honestly dont remember much. I remember seeing Monique on the corner and she yelled my name, then I remember seeing Brian and Curtis. Then I remember pumping my hands in the air and not knowing which finish line was the actual finish line. I remember hoping I finished under 13 hours and I remember looking to my left as people called out my name. My friends from high school. Barbie Thomas, Lewis, Katy, Katie and Ryan, Mary Little Brother, then My mom and dad... I crossed the finish line, someone caught me, and quickly Taylor took over. I remember people giving me Gatorade when i couldnt drink it, then I remember wanting to pass out, but I never wanted that moment to end. I was so happy, so weak, so sore and tired and joyful. There is a line between happy and joyful and I had crossed over. It was bliss.
Saturday evening we got back to the room, eagerly awaiting bedtime so we could snuggle up, get to bed early, sleep soundly, and wake up at the crack of dawn. And we did. As is my custom, I woke up minutes before the alarm, jumped on Jackie's bed, so excited for what was about to happen that day, I could hardly wait. We then both prayed... "God, please don't let us forget anything..." Dont worry, I had already forgotten my tennis shoes. I am not kidding. I forgot to put my tennis shoes in my transition bag. Thank goodness Taylor was in charge of transition and could put my shoes in my bag for me (something that is not supposed to be done, but something she so graciously did for me or my day would have been over). In any case, it was 4:06 AM, we were up, eating peanut butter and jelly, bananas, and crackers. Drinking a lot of water. Anything I could to keep from getting nervous, and I think I did a good job. It took us about 10 minutes to get our suits on and head out and I could have sworn we would be the first ones at transition to check our bikes and get in line (I was the designated bike checker, Jackie was going to get in line)... The transitions didnt even open up until 5 AM and we were there before 4:30 AM... But alas, we were not the only ones who knew the secret... there was a soft opening at 4:30 AM and as we got there. people were already in line. So, Jackie went to get in line, and i filled up the water bottles, pumped our tires, checked the bikes and hurried to meet her (and really hoped we had a good spot in line at Tumblweed!).
Leave it to Jackie to have a great spot in line, about 20 people back (out of close to 3,000!)... I found her quickly, sat down with her, Sarah, Jason, Madelyn, Rory and 2,698 of our closest friends and all of our families in the crystal clear morning. The morning was crisp, anticipation was in the air and music started to play louder and louder as 5 am came, then 6 am... 6:30 and 6:45... we started to move towards the water at 6:45 am, as we watched the pros get in the water. Jackie, Sarah and I huddled together for a prayer. As we did, a man tapped me on the shoulder, "Mind if I join you?" Then another, and another... soon, in the bright morning light, we had close to thirty athletes praying for a safe, healthy, peaceful day. Who prayed this prayer? Marc Barlow, my partner, my confidant, who had come down to cheer my on early into the dawn. We wrapped up the prayer quickly sang My Old Kentucky Home Proudly, as my eyes teared up. Then the National Anthem... this song never ceases to make my heart beat loudly. The very sound of the melody brings thoughts of every swim meet I have been a part of come flashing back to my mind so quickly, I start to quiver, and this morning was no different. This morning, I stood there, listening to the music, feeling oddly at peace as the sun rose, thanking God from the bottom of my heart that I had this body that would keep me in motion for the next 12-15 hours. How could this be? I have no idea, but I am so blessed. That is what went through my mind... THEN WE WERE OFF...
Some probably thought the swim start to an Ironman was pure insanity. This was not. This start is a time trial start which means you jump off one at a time (ok, maybe there are 4 or 5 people jumping at a time), but I have an advantage in the swim, because, well, I can swim. So I stayed calm, started my watch, quickly found open water on the right, did a few thump kicks to get a guy off my feet and swam right up the channel. It was the most peaceful, clear-heade swim I have ever done. I have swam a lot in my life (I would venture to say more than 99.9% of the people in that water) and that was the most enjoyable swim I have ever done. I was completely on my own. No one was in front of or behind me for 100 yards at least. I would pick up my head and look up and back just to make sure I wasnt in Indiana and see faint splashes in the distance, see a kayaker, or just glance at the sun coming up over the river. I would over and over thank God for the gift he had given me. I cant tell you how many times i did that. Before long, I was rounding the last buoy, heading for home. I looked toward the shore, in awe of all of the people that were standing there cheering all of us on. I was unsure of how this exit from the water was going to go. I had passed a few pros, but where did I stand... how fast did I go? Where was I? Open water swimming is very disconcerting, so I was a little unsure of how this was going to go, how to get back to transition, where fans would be, h ow to get out of the water, etc. So, I was a little nervous. But I had little choice... so I thought... here goes nothing...
I exited the water to ROARS!! Literally, I went from complete peace and quiet to utter chaos and a man on a load speaker that said something along the lines of "Our first Louisville finisher... AMY MIRANDA!!" Then everyone seemed to freak out and I saw a blur of what seemed like everyone I know, as I exited the water and ran to the transition area, grabbed my bag from Taylor, into the tent where a few girls help me undress from my suit, then dress into my bike clothes, then I was quickly (or so I thought... keep in mind, there were a few pros in and out of transition in the time I was there), out of the tent and into the sea of bikes (see below)... I found my bike and was out onto leg #2 of the day- 112 miles. People always say something is going to go wrong. Well, the swim was perfect. I found out quickly my bike problem- I forgot to fix my bike computer- the contraption that tracks my miles and speed. So I stopped and tried to fix it once on River Road (to no avail), then gave up, said I didnt care kept on going and got more and more worried as all these very very fast people WHOOSHED past me... I say that literally. They had disc wheels on and they make that sound. Finally I got up the hill at 1694, I saw Brian, and I thought that would be a smart time to make the fix because if I broke it he could fix it (although that wasnt correct, he couldnt help). Well, I fixed it myself which was a small miracle, and I was on my way- thank GOD! At this point, I was coasting, felt great and was eating and drinking right on schedule. Thanks in large part to Deb's watch and Lewis's idea of retrofitting it to my bike so it beep'd every 20 minutes, telling me to do something. Everything was going great!
I got to LaGrange and everyone was yelling and screaming, they announced my name and again I thanked God for what he had done for me. I am so blessed. This is another time I cried. And again, no pain here. Just happiness that I was out there, enjoying the most beautiful day of the year, doing something I loved. So I kept going, eating, drinking, pounding the goo packets, like a college kid pounds beer. I stopped once for my special needs bag (for future reference to all others that do this course in the years to come- you can stop twice. That would have been good to know). Before I knew it, I had finished my second lap of the loop and I was heading back on 42 towards downtown Louisville. Throughout the ride, I had it in the back of my head that I had to run a marathon. For anyone who has been reading this blog, you know I am not a runner. I have never run a marathon and prior to my training for this, I had not run more than 6 miles consecutively, so this was a minor stressor for me during this ride back to town. These thoughts started to enter my head as my friend Rory rolled up next to me... "Hey Amy! How are ya?!" (He was just taking it easy...) "I am doing great! But I keep thinking about this marathon coming up" "Well, someone always told me when I do these things, only live in the moment, dont think about what is coming up."... I can honestly say, that was really nice, and it was a good effort on his part, but it was completely useless in that moment. How do you ignore 26.2 miles? haha.
So anyways, it was getting closer and closer...my greatest relief was that I could take as much time in transition as I wanted. I didnt care if I sat and got a massage. I just wanted to relax when I got there. I think that got me to transition without any huge mishaps. So I rolled down 42, up the hill, down Wolf Pen and River Road, past Katie and Ryan and all my other friends and into transition where my little brother was waiting to catch my bike! Well, he didnt get to catch my bike, but I did get to blow him a kiss as I ran by. Then off I headed into the tent to change, get a pretend massage and start off on my first marathon.
I left transition and heard a voice behind me..."Fancy seeing you here!" It sounded familiar and oh yes! It was Eatherly! I cant tell you how amazing it is to hear a familiar vice after being alone for the better part of the day. Especially for someone who is as talkative as me. So I decided I would run with him and do his plan. Run, and walk the water stations... little did I know 99.9% of everyone does this. Its a good plan, if you do this next year- I suggest you try it. We started out fast, and E had to keep reminding me to stop, I felt great! ...then I got to mile 5 and started to slow down... then mile 7 and my legs started to hurt, then at about mile 8, Eatherly needed to puke and I thought, well, I am not doing as bad as that guy, surely, I am doing good. So I went on without him. 1 minute later, he passes me, telling me- I feel like a million bucks, see ya later! Then I started to hurt, REAL bad. I tried everything- gatorade, coke, pretzels, cookies, grapes, sponges, water, and in every combination. Anyone who has ever trained with me knows that all of this is bad for me with the exception of water. I cant have sugar when i train. So this started a bad spiral of stomach problems. Finally when I got to mile 15 or 16 they brought out the chicken broth and I tried that (this run was a science experiment that I dont suggest), well, that FINALLY worked. I felt much better after that, but I didnt eat much other than chicken broth, water and pretzels from then on out. At mile 13, the race directors do the meanest, cruelest thing possible... they take you TO the finish line, then make you turn around and go all the way back to where you just came from (ie Iroquois Park) and run back again. So basically, you are tired, hurting, delirious, watching seemingly fast people reach the pinnacle of their life as the run through the finish chute, and you have to turn around and go back to the furthest point in the marathon and start over. It was at this point, I wanted to die. It was also at this point, I heard someone yell my name... "AMY!!" It was Jackie.
Jackie and I ran from mile 14 to mile 23 together, step for step, during the most grueling time, suffering through stomach aches, legs that wanted to give out, dizziness, discouragement, and everything else. Come to think of it- this is what we went through all season. These miles replayed the way our summer did- sacrifice, tears, joy, and ultimately triumph. At mile 23, I told Jackie to go ahead. She was running faster than me at that point and I ws struggling to keep up. She wanted to cross the finish line together, but I thougth we both needed our own moments. We did. She ran on and I watched her go, my eyes tearing up at the thought of her running through the finishing chute, of her realizing her dream. You see, she always wanted to do this. I never thought I would. We are so different, but so much the same and I was so happy in that moment. I knew if I glanced back, I would also see Sarah not far behind. She was the reason we were where we were. She started all of this. That was when I stopped walking and vowed to never walk again. I hadnt hurt that bad during the whole race. My entire body pounded, but knowing the three of us were out there and all my friends and family were at the finish waiting for me kept me going. I just kept saying, I can do anything for 30 minutes (I only had 2 miles to go- I was going slow)...
Before I knew it, I turned the corner and it was getting louder and louder and louder. I cant describe this point very well because I honestly dont remember much. I remember seeing Monique on the corner and she yelled my name, then I remember seeing Brian and Curtis. Then I remember pumping my hands in the air and not knowing which finish line was the actual finish line. I remember hoping I finished under 13 hours and I remember looking to my left as people called out my name. My friends from high school. Barbie Thomas, Lewis, Katy, Katie and Ryan, Mary Little Brother, then My mom and dad... I crossed the finish line, someone caught me, and quickly Taylor took over. I remember people giving me Gatorade when i couldnt drink it, then I remember wanting to pass out, but I never wanted that moment to end. I was so happy, so weak, so sore and tired and joyful. There is a line between happy and joyful and I had crossed over. It was bliss.
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