And it's back to the drawing board...

After almost a year of thinking about it, planning for it, and waiting for it.  Sunday, I ran the Houston Marathon.  If you look back at my posts since last February, I was super open about wanting to do this race.  It was to be my Marathon Mecca.  My first true attempt at a Boston Qualifier.  They say that there are stories galore about how many years people spend trying to chase down their BQ time.  This time last year...I kind of thought "story schmory...I cut off 17 minutes off my time this year...I can do that again."  Well...it's a little easier said than done.  I knew that going into Sunday's race.  I knew that a month ago when I posted my Vegas blog.  

Famed American Marathoner, Deena Kastor said:

"In the Marathon, you really leave a lot to the God's as well.  So we'll see what they have ready for us on the course."

That struck me last year.  Enough that I took the time to write in in the "notes" part of my iPhone.  I've come across it when looked at other things.  And it's always stuck with me.  It is so true.  So true.  26.2 miles is a long way.  Hell, 13.1 miles is a long way.  The body can do lots of crazy things during runs like that.  Especially when you mix in adrenaline.  

The God's had something special planned for the Houston Marathon and Half Marathoners this weekend. Cold, rain, wind...and some special things for me too.

I knew all week that it was going to rain.  No matter how many times my friend Melissa said, "It's not going to rain!"  I knew it would.  It's Houston.  It rains there a lot usually.  It rained when I watched friends run the race a few years ago.  It was going to rain.  I planned the best I could.  I had only run in the rain once.  At 5am, with Amanda, April, and Gina, 4 miles in the thunder.  I bought a lightweight WATER RESISTANT (not the same as waterPROOF...) jacket and hoped for the best.

I slept so well on Saturday night.  2 glasses of wine and I was out by 915pm.  415am came early, but I was rested.  Everything happened as it should.  It was raining.  I didn't eat my normal bagel and pb and banana.  Kris later said that was his only regret, as we both kind of felt hungry at the start.  We loaded a shuttle to the convention center and crowded inside as it misted outside and the wind howled.  

We listened to a church service.  I was so struck last month in Vegas when we didn't pray or sing the National Anthem before the run.  I was relieved to be able to have a little quiet time and listen to a sermon (by a guy about to run the marathon...).  He said a lot as I sat on the floor and stretched.  He said a lot of things to the effect of "WHO ARE YOU DOING THIS FOR?"  "WHAT IS THIS REALLY ABOUT?"  I thought a lot about that, especially in the first 3 miles or so.  It seemed to palpitate in my head over and over.  "WHAT IS THIS ABOUT?"  "WHO are you REALLY doing this for???"

Kristofor left my side at about 630am.  He had to be lined up by 640.  I had until 650am.  I hung out inside and called my teammates Irma and Amanda.  They didn't answer.  I didn't figure they would.  But I waited and looked and looked for them as hundreds shuffled past me outside to their corrals.  When 645 rolled around, I went outside and greeted the cold wind and walked in the dark by myself to Corral B.  It's been a while since Kris and I have run regularly at races together.  But we do usually line up together.  This was the first time I was literally all alone.  I wasn't sad, I was more pensive.  I kept thinking about the "WHO are you REALLY doing this for???" question.  I stood in the mob with the rain coming down.  I listened to a beautiful rendition of the National Anthem (I can always appreciate when someone does it so well I cry...and I did).  And I bowed my head when we prayed.  

I rubbed my hands together because I was cold, and a stranger gave me his gloves to wear because he had an extra pair.  He also told me to NOT throw them away when I got hot.  Which I didn't listen to.  I sure wished I had at mile 18.  Right after the horn blew, it started to really rain.  Drops, not drizzle.  I started with my hood over my head.  One earphone in my ear, and I couldn't tell you what was playing because I wasn't listening.

I spent the first 3 miles looking at the ground.  I didn't want to slip and fall.  And I didn't want to step in a giant puddle and get my feet wet.  I didn't want to be any wetter or colder than I already was.  I also didn't want the rain in my eyes.  I don't remember very much about those 3 miles.  Until I saw my 5k split when I finished, I didn't even know how fast I was going (not very fast...), my watch was under my jacket sleeve.  I didn't even realize until almost mile 4 that I hadn't had water because I had never really looked up.  I was in a complete daze.  About the water stop about mile 4, I snapped out of it.  It had stopped raining, I started listening to my music, and I just started running.  I was happy with how fast I was going.  With all of the rain, I had reconciled that I just wanted to get under 4 hours again.  Even if I beat my time in Austin by seconds, just get under 4.  Forget about all of the rest of it.  I was doing well.  I felt good.

I've told this story umpteen times already.  At mile 13, I saw one of the race security guys looking at me and start jogging a little.  When I crossed the 13.1, I felt a hand on my arm.  He told me I was bleeding. And I was, I was bleeding out of my nose...

***Side Note:  A.  I totally jinxed this.  B.  I should have actually done what I had joked about earlier in the week.  I had been having nosebleeds since we were in Maine for Christmas.  The dry, cold air, mixed in with being next to a wood stove for many hours really messed up my nasal-ness.  I had been having random nosebleeds for 2 weeks.  On Monday when I got to work, the first time I lifted a barbell, my nose started bleeding, and my client Lorena almost puked.  It happened 3 more times until Wednesday when it finally stopped happening.  I joked that I was going to put "lite" tampons in my SPI belt in case it happened on race day so I could sop it up.  I didn't do that.  I figured it was over.  Well, it wasn't.  And I would have given anything to have had a damn tampon at mile 13.

They wouldn't let me run with the blood coming out of my nose.  So I sat at the medic tent closest to where we were and waited until it stopped.  I did argue briefly.  But arguing takes time.  I didn't want to stop.  After what seemed like a few minutes (looking back...I don't know how long it actually was...minutes for sure...), I grabbed my phone out of my pants and texted the first 2 people that had recently texted me.  Renea and Melissa (they are sisters...they happened to be together and at church...)...

I love how matter of fact I was.  My nose was "poring" blood.  I could hardly type my hands were so cold.  When it stopped, I showed the dry kleenex to the people like it was a prized trophy, grabbed kleenex for the road, and took off.  But then....because I had stopped.  I had to pee.  So I did that.  And then at mile 15.5, it started bleeding again.  Didn't stop for as long that time.  But still, sidelined.  I felt like I was sprinting on those miles.  I. Was. Desperate.  

After the mile 15.5 stop.  My legs started to feel the effects of the stop and go.  And I really kind of lost my mojo.  By mile 18.5, I cried a little bit.  Not a lot.  Just a little.  My friend Tanya had said she would be at mile 20.  I had given her a bear hug at mile 7, so I looked forward to seeing SOMEONE I knew.  

When I saw her on the side of the road, and she can attest...all dramatic...I yelled "I've been waiting to see you for like 5 miles."  She ran the last 6 with me.  She had not ever run 6 miles before.  She was also wearing like 80 layers of clothing.  It was cold.  Not THAT cold.  But she was such a trooper.  She would sprint in front of me to grab me water, and she coached me as I stretched about every 1.5 miles, and she took off with me when I would bolt forward trying to make up time.  Most importantly, she was there with me.  And at that point I just really needed someone with me.  So Tanya, for that, I am so grateful.  I just needed a face that I knew.  I hadn't ever been that lonely in a race.  I had heard people say that they got lonely, I hadn't ever felt that.  But I was so lonely.  And cold. And having someone there really made the difference in my finish.  She also was there to take photos of me doing glamorous things like eat sour apple power gel...

I will never eat sour apple power gel again.  Not only was it ONLY 1x caffeine (I prefer 2x caffeine...).  But it was so gross.  Yuck.  Eww.  I don't ever want it again.  Yuck.  

My last 1.5 I really really started picking up the pace.  They say it is all mental.  It is.  It is mental.  It is so effing mental.  I ran under 8 in my last 1.5.  I stopped to stretch for the last time and I took off.  I finished strong across the finish line.  And in the video, again, I had this hazy look on my face (I lost Tanya about .5 out from the finish).  I wasn't crying like San Antonio, I wasn't exuberant like Vegas, I was just there.  I felt almost solemn.  

I saw my husband who by the way...

***SIDE NOTE:  My hubby ran a 3:31 marathon.  He bested his best time BY A LOT A LOT A LOT.  He had the race of his life, and I'm so happy for him.  Everything clicked for him on Sunday.  Wind, Rain, perfect temp for him.  He did it.  Tanya told me while we were running when he finished.  I was so proud.  I'm glad he finally got the time he has been wanting!

So I saw Kristofor, I took my picture, and I went inside to get my loot.  My official time says 4:18.  I ran 26.55 miles.  My watch said 4:16ish when I stopped it.  I can't change anything.  I'm fairly confident that had the stops not happened, I would have been a go for a PR.  BUT I can't change it.  That's the way it fell.  That is what, as Deena Kastor said "the God's had ready for me on the course."  So I have to be at peace with that.

Coming to the end of this marathon season, I've learned a lot of valuable lessons.  I ended last year on such a high after Austin.  My sub 4 marathon.  I said last blog, I don't think I ever really appreciated the greatness of that.  I didn't.  I couldn't just be happy for that.  I had to go and try to make it better.  And not only did I want to try to make it better, I wanted to make it better by like 20 minutes.  Which brings me back to what was aching at me for the first 3 miles...

"WHO are you REALLY doing this FOR???"

Maybe I don't know.  I ran the 26.2 miles this weekend in honor of a friend who is bravely kicking cancer's ass.  She inspires me, and when I cried at mile 18.5, I was definitely thinking of her.  I had a picture of the 2 of us over my heart.  So I ran this for her.  

But when I think about that question in the grander sense, the REALLY kind of stumps me.  I do a lot of things for myself.  I do a lot of things for other people (and I'm not saying that in a conceited way...even though it will sound like that in type...).  But WHY am I STILL RUNNING marathons.  Like 3 of them in a row.  WHY?  Am I doing it.  

I know why I started.  I know what got me through last year.  But I'm going to need to mull on that question over the next month or so.  WHY do I do this.  Not a WHY because it sucks to be this sore, or a WHY because the medal is super great, but a bigger WHY.  Am I really doing it for me at all anymore?  I think I have to figure that out, or at least reconcile the real reason with myself if I hope to get better.

"Sometimes the moments that challenge us the most, define us."-Deena Kastor

Thanks for cheering me on,

Lacy