Marathon number three is done. The Twin Cities marathon is a great race, in so many ways. It was my first back in 2013, so it goes without saying that it holds a special place in my heart. The course itself is beautiful, and the spectator support is amazing, especially that final sloping downhill on Summit Ave towards the State Capitol.
Marathons aren't easy. Whether it's your first or your twentieth. Weeks of training and weekends spent away from your family for two to three (or in my case more) hours at a time can leave you feeling exhausted. I went into this race just wanting to take it easy and cross that finish line. Sure, PR's are great, but getting one wasn't really on my radar. Training had gone decently well, but as usual, could have been better.
You know that infamous wall runners are always talking about? I hit that wall early in the race, at mile 15. Hard. Think Mack truck plowing into a brick building. Kinda like that. For the next 8 miles, I walked, I did something that sort of resembled running, I cried, and I contemplated dropping out of the race multiple times. My body was refusing to play this game anymore, and convincing my mind to do the same. At one point, I was passed by a guy who was juggling. Literally. Juggling. I was struggling to put one foot in front of the other and he was doing that and more. Then I was passed by another guy who was running barefoot. As in, no shoes. Bare. Feet.
Shortly after that, I saw something that, in hindsight, was probably the push I needed. I saw the sweeper car. For those that don't know, the sweeper car is the car that comes along and moves runners off the road, due to the course closing. In short, it's the last thing you want to see in a race. But it was soon after that that I seemed to get a small second wind and managed to run the last mile or so. The best part? I spotted my husband and both my kids cheering my on right before I crossed the finish line. That moment? Better than any PR I could have gotten.
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