And we were off. . .At the start, I was forced to keep my pace down due to the large number of people clumped around me. I used this as an opportunity to check out my surroundings, the crowd, and the increasing rain. Hey—I have run in rain before—check out the Eastern States blog entry, so I knew what I was in for and I loved that race. I thought maybe this is a good sign and thought of my running partner. At mile 3 I got my first cheer from my support group. I waved fanatically because I was so happy to see them and to hear my name. I tried to show them just how thankful I am for them.
Then, I laughed at a guy with a sign reading “you are not almost there.” Reality check! The rain picked up some more and by mile 5 I was officially soaked and the water poured off my hat anytime I turned my head. I found myself thinking that this Nike hat was one of the smartest purchases ever. We looped down and around a point giving us middle packers (woo hoo, I was just shy of the middle of the pack) our first sight of the wheel chair competitors and the lead runners. The first woman looked amazingly strong! Better yet, I saw there were a LOT of people behind me and I cheered them on as I passed by them. Then, I looked down and noticed my pale blue shorts were stuck to me and definitely had turned see- through—thank goodness running shorts have built in briefs. Didn’t matter—on I went! Around mile 8 I ran alongside a friendly group of 3 people who run the course every year—they provided some supportive comments and gave the first timer some advice about the “big hill at mile 15” and the finish—they advised me to go slow on the hill because the drums at mile 15 will get you moving too fast up the hill and you’ll pay for it with burning quads. Note taken and thanks given, then on I went—sticking to my own pace and my own thoughts. We looped back through town and I saw my supporters again at mile 9 along the brick walkway and shops through downtown. I felt my smile broaden and my pace quicken. Wooo girl, no need to be running under a 9 minute pace at mile 9—slow it down.
I backed down again but felt amazing and naturally kept the pace up through our run along the outskirts of town—past the Lake Champlain chocolate factory (ohh, note-to-self to come back here) and along part of the bike trail. At mile 13.1 a lot of the relay runners were celebrating being done—I was celebrating being halfway done and just enjoyed the additional crowds the exchange point brought. I saw my first downed runner at mile 14—whew that was awakening. Legs feel good, check, heart rate good, check, energy still up, check. Ha, the “not almost there” guy appeared again and I gave him a big smile. That smile got me through to mile 15—the famous “assault on battery” and the largest hill in the race. As I turned the corner I heard drums. There was a large group of taiko drummers at the base of the hill and metal barriers with tons of people going up and up as far as I could see.
I heard the guy from mile 8 in my head saying take it easy, then, I saw the woman next to me was barefoot and thought—I have on shoes, no way is she beating me. Halfway up the hill I felt the burn, I was still slower than my set pace, and then—my cheering section. They had stationed themselves at the halfway point in the hill and were cheering me up and up.
At mile 18, right at the entryway of the mulched bike trail, I saw my second downed runner—the aid was already called, but this person didn’t look good. Just keep going and . . .legs, check, heart rate, check, energy, check. . . I start to feel myself slow a little through the second neighborhood, but was still running a solid pace and felt great. Some kids were “playing” musical instruments in their driveway and I picked it up to escape:) We hit the biggest steepest downhill in the race at mile 21. Whew, I felt those quads kick in and they started to quiver. I told myself that I had felt this before and knew to just keep pushing and it will subside—it did by mile 22.5. I heard “lookin’ good 146” and hoped it was true and that this stranger’s support is not from me looking like I needed the support. Regardless, I gave the thumbs up and continued on enjoying the view of Lake Champlain and the bike trail. Then I heard “3 miles left, almost there” and realize. . clearly this person is a liar and didn’t communicate with the guy with the sign! Comparatively speaking yes, I am closer to the finish than the start, but these 3 miles can be very very hard. Wait—I recognized a white baseball cap—I saw my Carlisle friend up ahead and caught her. She seemed hot and was dumping water on herself. I kept up my pace knowing if I stopped or slowed it would hurt. Then she caught up to me with just 1.5 miles left—I thought we’ve got this and the pace picked up. The crowd thickened immensely and the cheers were amazing. Just before the big mile 26 sign I saw my support group again! I waved, gave them thanks for their cheers, and tried to memorize the smile showing, beneath the camera, on my husband’s face.
Now, where is that darn finish line? The thick crowd continued. . . I heard the announcer say that all those crossing the finish line were well ahead of the national average for men and women. Woohooo. Alison reached back and grabbed my hand as we crossed the finish! What a great feeling! A woman lifted my foot onto a bench and removed the timing chip from my shoe and said “way to go.” Another man put a medal around my neck while another wrapped me in a mylar blanket. The weight of the metal hit me physically and mentally. I instantly headed for the massage tent, our meeting place, with my fellow finisher and her partner in tow. I felt like I just needed to keep walking or shuffling, it hurt to stop. What? no line for a massage. I hopped in line and apologized numerous times to the woman about being so wet and all. I mean, water rushed out of my shoe when I took it off and she was touching my socked foot! I looked up and saw my husband smiling at me on the other side of the tent and gave him my biggest smile back. He was brave enough to hug me, as was my training partner, and we chatted about how I felt. They monitored my shaking, I was suddenly freezing, and pulled the clothes out of my bag for me before ushering me to the Ben and Jerry’s truck—yup, Ben and Jerry’s at the finish. I actually had to force it down because I wasn’t the least bit hungry. On the way back to the busses it was more clothes and a forced additional Gu for calories. Man—that stuff is nasty when you are running and intolerable when you stand still!
