As you may have previously read, I had dedicated my time and effort to train for my first FULL marathon. After months of speed workouts, learning to tolerate gels (my favorite being Power Gel's Double Latte) and giving up all Saturdays of sleeping in for long runs. Having moved out of town 45 minutes, I still wanted to to use the badass running group I had trained with (shout out We Run San Antonio!) and was still paying for, so I woke up every Saturday at 4:45 a.m. to be there at 6 a.m. for our group runs. Having accountability was definitely a motivator for me and really boosted my confidence to run among the great runners of We Run and tackle some crazy country hills.
In a blink of an eye the week of my marathon had arrived. I.was.terrified. I was having nightmares of forgetting my shoes or missing the starting line, which caused anxiety. Eventually I had to put down the running reads before bed and just relax. Relaxing was so hard to do, considering my long run of 18 miles was never reached due to the nasty blisters my poor feet gained due to seams on my socks. With a brand new pair of seamless, dry fit socks, I felt a little more confident.
My boyfriend and I flew out late morning the day before the race. I had read and was told to stay off my feet as much as possible. It was definitely a hard feat considering we were flying to Las Vegas, where even the walk from the lobby to your hotel room was several miles. And drinking. No drinking allowed since I didn't want to mess my stomach up the day before the race. Easier said than done in the city of sin and lots of alcohol. Oh boy did I have some awesome self control. Our flight over played many games on board and my row won TWO free drinks. I only proudly accepted one, and passed off the other. Once in Vegas I whipped in and out of the convention to try to keep off my feet. My boyfriend and I walked as little as possible (only several miles instead of double digits). And the drinks...oh my mouth was watering and the dollars in my pocket were screaming to be handed to a bartender, but I said no! I felt as proud as someone at an AA meeting getting their first "One Month Sober" token.
The morning of the big day, I was freaking out. I have always done races first thing in the monrning. This one started in the evening. How was I supposed to pre carb without going crazy? Day 2 of no alcohol or heavy walking was even more tough. We decided to head over to Margaritaville for brunch, which was rated as having a great gluten-free brunch. To my dismay they no longer served brunch. Instead, we stumbled upon Guy Fieri's Kitchen at the Linq Hotel. It was amazing food with craft beer (which I did not touch).
Around 3:30 I walked with my boyfriend, peanut butter jelly sandwich in hand, from our hotel the Paris, to the start line by the Mandalay Bay hotel. We met some friendly people along the way and overheard the end of the pre-concert - Macklemore and Ryan Lewis. They sound just as great live! Anywho I show up to my corral with butterflies in my stomach, trying not to think about what was soon going to happen. In no time the sun sunk behind the towering casinos and hotels and the air got quite chilly. I seemed to be the ONLY one in a tank top and capris. Everyone was bundled up. I knew I would warm up, but I sort of doubted it with the wind. As the corals started to move up one by one as they were released, it came my turn. Flames burst out of the stop of the start line and Fallout Boy's "Light Em Up" song blasted through the jumbo speakers. My adrenaline was pumping as we all yelled "3...2...1!" I was excited and so scared! My first few hundred steps were way too fast, but I was able to notice and adjust. I could not speed through my first mile with 25.2 miles to go after. It seemed the first two miles were leading us to a mass dessert grave. We ran into the abyss with very few lights and sights, but we did pass by the "Welcome to Las Vegas!" sign. After a u-turn we start back down the strip. While there were a lot of bystanders as we ran up the closed Las Vegas Boulevard, there was an odd calmness to the air. It was very quiet for what I expected - not as much screaming and cheering, but they closed down the strip for ME!...and several thousand other runners.
We ran past the strip, down beside the towering Stratosphere and numerous chapels and sleazy motels which was pretty cool to take in. We trudged through a neighborhood then came upon Container Park right outside of Fremont Street. Once our pounding tennis shoes hit upon Fremont Street at mile 9, the moment of no turning back arrived. There were lines of cones with tape separating two sides: the half-marathon which turned back toward the strip, and the full...to continue on. To the right I went to conquer my dream. I had the ultimate Fremont Experience through the lane of blazing lights, zip liners soaring above me, live bands playing, people cheering and watching us race, and even an onlooker running along side me and others with his video camera. I was on cloud nine feeling like a celebrity. Once we zipped out of Fremont, we headed down a side street and then hit a major road...to nowhere. There were a few stores and fast food places, then nothing. The bands along the course became more scarce and the boredom set in. I started noticing the miles add on, my pace slow, the stiffness set in and started to doubt myself. My fear was getting caught by the cut-off time. There were several areas where they would cut your mileage short if you were not fast enough. I refused to be someone who would get a 26.2 medal without running every INCH of a full marathon. I did not train for a lie. At mile 16 I was doing a u-turn on the course and realized that everyone behind me was no more, as did the woman I was running next to. WE MISSED THE LAST CUT-OFF!!!! I was so excited! I did it! I was going to finish the last 10.2 miles all by myself with no shortcuts. I was still super bored out there in the middle of nowhere, and the temperatures hit freezing - not including the wind chill (burrr!) but at least I was numb. I can honestly say if it were not for the insanely supportive and outgoing volunteers on the course, I would have given up. They were amazing and got me through the toughest part of the race with their yells of kindness and high-fives.
Between miles 23 and 24 I was passing under the Stratosphere once again. I knew this was the "final leg". My legs were numb from pain (and cold) and my whole body was at its max. I could not allow myself to walk since I knew I would not be able to start back up, plus it was just moments before the streets opened back up to the public. As much as I desired to be done, I felt good knowing I was passing so many walkers. I was almost to the finish. I could finally see Caesar's Palace - the finish. Each step felt like an inch. There were a few straggling bystanders cheering me on, seemingly understanding the pain I was in. As the finish line was 50 feet in front of me the emotions started to flood me. I did what I never thought I could ever achieve and I ran the whole damn thing! I was crying, but without the tears. I was too tired (and probably too dehydrated) to produce any tears. I received my heavy, earned medal as they were disassembling the finish line. I got my snacks and chocolate milks - yes, plural - and stopped to take it all in. I could not move. My legs felt broken and well used. My picture I got taken, in my mind, was beautiful. I looked like a beast and beautiful with sparkling sweat on me. When I actually saw the picture it was horrendous. I thought I looked ugly and had a gross smile upon my face. I had read somewhere that you should love your ugly race photo. It shows how hard you worked and how tired you are as well as how happy you are that you are giving it your all to smile in the picture. Now I love my finish line picture. It is me at my proudest and rawest moment <3
Sadly I did not have enough energy to drink a celebration beer and was not hungry to eat (I did force down a slice of Sbarro pizza). I was told to take an ice bath to reset my muscles and that I would regret not doing it. I was in tears squatting in the ice water, still shivering from the outside freezing temperatures. That moment was probably harder than the marathon itself. Eventually I made my way into the iceberg-filled bath water and soaked for 20 minutes, followed by a hot shower. While I did not sleep well that night from adrenaline and excitement, I woke up with only my right foot being a tad sore. I felt like I had a brand new body. All day I gorged myself with beer and any foods I wanted because "I deserved this. I just ran a WHOLE marathon". That was probably the one moment in my life where I was not ashamed of being self-centered and okay with bragging. For now, it was the best moment of my life. It was a high I could never reproduce and a happiness and self connection I have never ever experienced. Chase your dreams and do not be afraid to do so- nothing is too big and I thank my significant other for dealing with those early alarms on his days off, and for being such a huge supporter.
