My Legs Have Finally Stopped Twitching

As I laid in bed last night, I realized that for the first time in a very long time, I was falling asleep without the incessant twitching in my leg muscles caused by over-exertion AKA marathon training which had been keeping me awake for over the past six months. This realization brought two quick gut reactions.

1. Thank goodness that's over!
2. I better hurry up and blog about this marathon experience before the vivid memories of the day fade away....just like the twitches in my legs.

So as you know I've been training my heart and soul out for some time now and there was nothing that could stop me from crossing that finish line on April 27th. But boy oh boy did my knee try to stop me. But before I get to the details of that day, let me bring you back a few weeks to the day the trouble started.

Two weeks before the big day, I had my longest training run in the books - the dreaded 20 miler. I had run 14 miles just the week before, and not to toot my own horn, but I had ROCKED it. Since the 14 miler went so well, I wasn't so badly dreading the 20 miler, and may have even gotten a little over-confident in my abilities to run long distances.

During the 20 mile training run, around mile 11 or so, I noticed my knee was starting to ache a little more than my joints usually ache during long runs. Around mile 15, it was throbbing so bad, I was flat ready to quit. By mile 17, I had resorted to a complete walk and called my mother-in-law (who was at the house watching Amelia for me) to seek her advice on whether I should quit or keep going. I really just needed someone to tell me to keep going because left to my own will, I was definitely about to throw in the towel. She gave me the morale boost I needed to hobble out a couple more miles. And then on mile 19, I saw my father-in-law walking down the sidewalk. He came out to do the last mile with me because she told him I was struggling. When I saw him, I burst into tears - both out of pain, exhaustion, and overwhelmed by the sweetness of the gesture. He helped me through the last mile, and finally I was done.

After a few days of rest, ice, and ibuprofen, I was hopeful that my knee had recovered from the trauma. But every time I laced up and headed out for a training mile after that day, no matter if it was 2 miles or 12, my knee would ache and throb and remind me that I had overdone it. Basically it boiled down to the fact that I would be running 26 miles in my very near future with a very painful injury, and I was just going to have to suck it up and do it.

So here we are back at race day. Let's go through the events of the day.

I got up at 4:00am and went through my very detailed checklist for the pre-race prep. Coffee. Breakfast. Shower. Stretch. Water. By 6:00am, I was all ready and it was time to head downtown. Pre-race jitters were in full swing.

My father-in-law came to my rescue yet again and volunteered to drop me off to the race so that I wouldn't have to drive myself home afterwards because we all knew I was going to have a severe case of jello legs. It was still dark outside during the drive, but by the time we got to the waterfront, the sun was coming up and the runners were pouring in all around us. My jitters slowly started turning into excitement. The 7:30 start line was getting closer and closer. My dream of running a marathon was about to turn into a reality.

3, 2, 1....and they're off!

The race started off great. I only had to stop and pee 3 times because of ALL THE WATER, but this is just a part of reality when it comes to hydrating for long races. So right off the bat, my knee wasn't happy. But it was tolerable enough that I was maintaining my usual 11-12 minute pace. Of course with all the porta potty stops, I was slowing myself down quite a bit, but strictly in terms of running, I was doing pretty well.

Around miles 7-9, the runners got to enter into Churchill Downs and run through the arena and see beautiful horses out training. The app on my phone that my family was using to track my location started singing "My Old Kentucky Home" while I was inside, and I've gotta admit, I got a little teary eyed.

It was at this point around mile 9 that there were huge signs distinguishing that all runners doing the mini-marathon turn left, and all the runners doing the full marathon turn right. I am not exaggerating when I say that 12,000 runners turned left to finish up their last 4 miles together. Meanwhile, about 5 of us other crazy runners turned right to not only run 17 more miles, but to run up the steep hills of Iroquois Park, no less. It was also at this point that my knee decided that it was DONE maintaining the tolerable level of pain and had kicked it up a notch to FULL ON STABBING PAIN.

I am not sharing this to paint a portrait of myself as this she-woman tough girl who can overcome any amount of pain and strife to achieve her goals. I am simply telling you the truth of the situation. I was in IMMENSE pain, I was basically ALL ALONE running through the woods, and I still had many many miles to endure before it was over. I was very seriously considering calling someone to come get me and take me home at this point.

Running up the hills wasn't nearly as painful as running down them. Something about the weight shifting from knee to knee on those downhill slopes hurt my knee so badly, that I legitimately started jogging down the hills backwards. I also started to cry at this point. I felt defeated and alone and in a great amount of pain. And I really didn't even care that I looked like a whack-a-doodle running backwards and crying.

But I kept going. I didn't really feel like I had any other choice. And I knew that at some point in my near future, I was going to see my family cheering on the sidelines. If I could just make it to them, I would get that boost I so desperately needed to finish the race.

As I was exiting Iroquois Park, I noticed two people running holding the 13:45 pace sign. For any non-runners out there, this basically meant that anyone who ran a mile in 13 minutes and 45 seconds should be running with these people. This was also the last pace group of the entire marathon because it equates to a 6 hour run (13:45 x 26.2 miles = 6 hours). Which basically meant that if I didn't kick it up a notch and start running faster, my running time was not going to count when it was all said and done.

Great. Because I really needed some EXTRA PRESSURE at this time.

So here is what happened. I got mad. Mad at my knee. Mad at my stupid self for deciding to do this. And I just wanted it to be over. So I literally gritted my teeth and started running. My knee was SEARING in pain, but I just kept chugging. One foot in front of the other. I was the little engine that could but with a wheel that was off the track.

The miles started ticking by faster. 16...17...18...19...

Before I knew it, those 13:45 pacers were so far behind me that I couldn't see them. Even though I didn't really care about the time on the clock when I finished, I really didn't want to be the very last runner crossing the finish line. So just knowing that there were people behind me gave me a little added relief.

Around mile 20, I got a message from my mom and sister that said they were standing between miles 21 and 22. I was so ready to see them. 

(Sidenote: This was a really cool feature in this tracking app that allowed them to text me a message through the app and the message would come through my headphones letting me know what it said.)

Finally somewhere between mile 21 and 22, I spotted a group of navy blue t-shirts that said NATION RUN SQUAD. My people. They were here. And they could not have picked a better mile. Because y'all. I was SO OVER RUNNING by this point.

I jogged over to my people, spotted Beth, and gave her my most serious face and said,

"GET. OUT. HERE. YOU. ARE. RUNNING. THIS. WITH. ME."

Beth did not even hesitate. She yelled at Mom and Nana to grab her purse and things and meet us at the finish line. And my dear sweet awesome sister jumped out on the course with me (IN HER BLUE JEANS) and started running with me.

She stuck with me. She was my hero. The ONLY slight criticism I have for her is that she was wayyyy too peppy of a runner compared to the rest of us out there who were just dragging and close to death trying to put one foot in front of the other. So I quickly had to tell her to take the pep down a notch before one of us took her out.

By the time we got to mile 24, I simply couldn't take the pain anymore. I overhead another runner say something about walking 'heel to toe' to help stretch out the aching muscles.....or something like that. So I started power walking like I've never power walked in my life.  I was your grandmother at the mall on steroids. Arms swinging. Legs swinging. I was the power walk master.

And it helped significantly with the pain. I power walked my way through miles 24 and 25 and most of 26. When we caught sight of the finish line, Beth told me to think of Amelia and run the rest of the way. She knew just the right thing to say. No way was I going to let Amelia see me walk across that finish line. So with every single ounce of grit and determination I had left, I started running.

Beth dropped off to the side right before the finish line to let me finish by myself. I spotted the rest of my Nation Run Squad right by the finish line so I gave them a big wave and smile as I made my way across.

It was without a doubt the physically hardest thing I've ever done in my life.

It was terrible. And excruciating. And lonely. And miserable. And just plain hard.

And yet... it was amazing. And memorable. And wonderful. And it taught me a lot about myself and about the people who love me.

In addition to my family who showed up to cheer me on at the race, I had 28 text messages when I checked my phone afterwards and had countless messages on Instagram. My people showed up big for me that day. And I can't wait to pay it forward and show up for them when they need me.

There was a key moment in the race...somewhere deep in the hills of Iroquois Park...when I was sure that there was no possible way that I was going to finish.

But I am proud and humbled to actually say....I did it. I ran 26.2 miles. I am a marathon runner.

Thank you Jesus for impossible dreams and sisters who don't mind running in blue jeans.