Well I did it. I'm pretty sure I surprised myself more than anyone else. Not to talk myself up, but I am extremely proud of myself for finishing such a long race. I was that kid whose best mile time in freshman year PE was 12:37, so it felt really affirming to do what I used to think was impossible. Heres some little thoughts about running the marathon:
-It helped restore a little faith in humanity. First off, the weather was AWFUL, no understatement. The wind was against us at 20ish mph, and you were drenched before you even crossed the starting line. The rains and winds were pretty constant for the first 21ish miles, and some intersections we had to run through were mid calf deep in water. Yet despite all this, people still came out of their houses to stand in the pouring rain and cheer us on, even if they didn't know anyone in the race. Every mile, there was at least one group of cheering people with funny (and sometimes dirty) encouraging signs, beaming smiles, and whooping voices. I was pretty shocked anyone would come out in that weather, but I'm so glad they did. The constant encouragement was a breath of fresh air when your motivation waned. Not to mention that the 20 water stations and numerous med stations were all run by volunteers.
-After mile 20, it actually felt better to keep running than it did to stop and walk for a bit. Once you stopped running, you immediately became aware of all the pain resounding in different parts of your body. And then having to start running again was pretty rough. But once you had been running for a little while, you kinda became numb. Thank God for endorphins.
-I was amazed at the variety of people who run marathons. Having never run in a race before, I always assumed anyone insane enough to run such a long race would be of the tall and gangly body type, but I was surprised to see so many different types of people running alongside me. My excuse for never running for long distances was my body type: short, stocky, short legs, and huge feet. It seems to be a pretty bad combo to say the least. And yet there were people of all ages, body sizes, and even disabilities running the race. When you get passed at mile 16 by a blind lady who is tied to a volunteer for direction, you realize just how shitty your lifelong excuses have been. Same thing can happen when your passed by a 70 year old man who is barefoot. Or when your passed by a older man who seems to be over weight, and yet this is his 87th marathon. Damn.
-You learn a lot about your body. I can't really explain this, but you just get better at regulating your body. You start to realize the fine distinctions between good hurt and bad pain, you realize when you need water even though you aren't thirsty, and you learn how to pace yourself properly. Kind of hard to explain.
-They serve beer to the racers. Seriously. You get a small cup of beer around mile 21. Apparently beer is really good for runners because of the carbs, and the slight impact of the alcohol was probably helpful (hard to tell if I felt anything or if it was just the endorphins). Also, shout out to the patrons of the pub around mile 23, who graciously gave me half of their beer as I was running by. More faith in humanity restored, and I felt right at home in Chico with the drunk and rowdy revelers whooping and hollering as I chugged down the best half a beer I've ever had.
-You kind of go into 'Zen' mode. Typically when I run in Chico, I have an audiobook to listen to, or a poem to memorize. I find its easier to run if your brain is engaged constantly. But with the rain making it impossible to have dry notecards for memorization or for an ipod to be accessible, I found myself not thinking about anything really. Even conversations with my girlfriend, who was beside me most of the race, were kept to a minimum. Very unusual to me, but it also felt good to just not think about anything.
-I worry way to freaking much. On the drive down to Sac the day before the race, I found myself on edge and kinda snapping at my girlfriend, which was totally jacked up. After apologizing and externally processing for a little while, I realized that I was worrying about the race the next day. Like a lot. I was so worried I would get injured and have to drop out and then have to come back to all my friends in Chico looking like a failure. And yet nothing I did that day could affect what would happen during the race. How often we all tend to worry in a futile attempt to control things that are far beyond our grasp. Time to start meditating on Philippians 4:6-7 more often. Again.
Thats all the thoughts I have at the moment. I encourage you guys to sign up for something you think is beyond your ability, so you can end up surprising yourself. I know this is cliche, but trust me, if I can do it, anyone can.
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