I had this PE teacher in middle school who once made us run 3 miles in the name of fitness. [Insert swear word here], but I really wanted to kill him and/or die. Who knew that one day I would willingly subject myself to running 26.2 miles? Certainly not I…even until 2 years ago I swore I would never creatively punish myself in such a manner. At this moment, I’m STILL not sure why I ran a marathon.
The closest explanation I can give is this: I didn’t think I could. Running the half last year proved me wrong about not being able to do that but I learned my lesson about how it works. You don’t just jump in without any training. You build up from running 15 minutes on the treadmill to being able to run 3 miles. And from the 3 which seemed so hard before, it turns to 4, 6, and 8. After 8, it’s all just training through 13 and beyond.
Up until marathon day I was still only 80% sure I could complete it. I’d trained up to the 20 mile distances, but there is a big difference between 20 and 26…and no matter what my training buddy said I know it took 5 hours. (I may be able to jog for long distances but one has ever said I’m fast at doing ANYTHING, especially eating tofu pot, running, or calculating tip.) I had so many worries - would I finish in the 6 hour time limit? Would I injure myself on race day? Would I simply freak out and quit halfway through?
The following is a summary of my mental monologue as best I can recall:
Pre-race: AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH! ooo, coffee. AAAAAAAAAAAAHH!
Race start: Hey guys, are we going in this wave or the next? Guys? Oh, we’re already running. Shoot. Ok, I’m ready. So ready. Yes, I am mentally prepared.
Miles 6-9: Ok, doing good. I’m at the Golden Gate Bridge, feeling strong. Damn, this bridge is crowded. I really hate these rude people who are passing me on the right! And you stupid b*tch, what are you stopping in the middle of the road?! I wonder what would happen if terrorists blew up the bridge right now. Or like in X-men when Magneto pulls the bridge apart? If I survived the fall, could I swim to shore to save myself? I’m almost to Marin. I better keep my eye out for explosions.
Miles 11-12: These hills are rude and offensive.
Mile 13: Halfway there. Feeling good. So nice and peaceful now that the people running the first half are gone. I like Golden Gate park and this goo I’m eating is tasty. Who are all those people over there and why are they running towards me?
Mile 13.5: I hate these second halfers with all my soul. Why are you so peppy and cheerful? Stop crowding you and breathing my air!
Mile 18: Wow. I think I blanked out for awhile there.
Mile 19: Dear Ms. Half Marathoner, you did NOT just cheerfully tell me to “Come on! Run!” up that slope I just slogged up. I hate you and you CLEARLY did not just run 19 miles like me. You shut up now.
Mile 21: I’ve now gone further than I have ever gone before. Miles 21-26 are my true test. I should blog insightfully about this.
Mile 22: I hate the world. I hate everything and everyone. Bring me ice cream.
Mile 23: 3 more miles? I can do it. No wait. Damn. 3 miles is a lot.
Miles 24-26: If I count 660 seconds that’s 11 mins. If I can count 660 twice then that’s about 2 miles at 11 min/mile. 1,2,3…
Mile 26 -26.2: SPRINT! SPRINT! OMG sprint towards the end oh look friends smile sprint omgyoucan stoooopomg!!1!ponies1!1
Let’s get one thing straight here. I don’t love running, even now. No, seriously! But snarkiness aside, I feel like when you’ve run a marathon you can basically do anything. I’ve had a lot of stress lately revolving around work and my living situation. But it all falls away when it comes down to you verses 26.2 miles of pavement. And, I felt afterwards that if I could push myself into doing something I never thought I could do, I can do ANYTHING. (I briefly felt like the Queen of the World and everyone ought to be bowing to me.) The training I put in really carried me through until the end. Even if my speed was not that great, I don’t really care right now.
I’m still enjoying wearing my mental tiara that says I rule the world. 
Mr. Genise! Those 3 miles were so evil. OK, to be fair it made me really good at dance that year because I actually had some cardio strength. To this day I don't think I've run that amount again...
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