Marathon #5

I finished the Indianapolis marathon hungry to run another, so I signed up for my spring race right away. It soon became clear that I couldn't wait til March to scratch the itch. A crazy plan began germinating: why not run another marathon asap? My best friend Emily raved about Rehoboth last year, and it met all of my requirements: flat, (ostensibly) cold, not crowded, and near enough that my poor husband wouldn't feel the need to accompany me. I impulsively signed up.

That night I blurted "IregisteredforaDecembermarathonbutdon'tworryyoudonthavetocome," hoping Shawn wouldn't be too exasperated. Even though I was giving him an out, he worries about me overtraining and injuring myself. I also felt guilty that we would be "losing" a weekend to running yet again. As soon as he got wind of the beer-soaked afterparty, he decided he didn't want the reprieve. In fact, he once again embraced his role as ground support with gusto (so much that my fellow runners "awwed" when he handed off my supplies to me).

Leading up to the Indianapolis marathon, I was a woman possessed. I studied the course map obsessively. I watched a time-lapse video of the course every day. I kept my social calendar clear the week before, lest any of my friends pass on a cold to me. The marathon consumed every waking moment and many of my sleeping ones, too (in the form of dreams). This time around, the most thought I gave to Saturday's race involved the weather forecast. Each time I checked it, the projected temperature had gone up. Then possibility of rain rose steadily too. Because my ideal running temperature is a crisp 30 degrees, I was positively panicking.

My lack of mental preparation (other than hand-wringing over the weather) meant that crossing the (unadorned) start line on Saturday was when it hit me: I had 26.2 miles ahead of me. It was an uncomfortable revelation. For the first 9 miles or so, I ran alongside Emily, who is much faster than I am. My (admittedly rather vague) pacing plan was already out the window and I worried my quick early miles would come back to haunt me. At the turnaround point for the half marathon, I contemplated taking it. I feared when I saw Shawn at mile 11, I'd throw in the towel - not because I was hurting (yet), but because the road ahead of me seemed endless. I simply couldn't fathom it. I did the only acceptable thing: shut my mind off, turn my shuffle on, and put one foot in front of the other.

These guys finished fourth, fifth, and sixth, respectively.
Knowing I would see Shawn again at mile 20 helped. The course was also quite pleasant: every few miles, the scenery changed drastically. There were wooded trails, neighborhoods, and a path through the dunes of Cape Henlopen State Park. It was an out and back course, but it wasn't soul-crushing the way the Toronto Goodlife Fitness marathon was. In fact, because I like familiarity, it was nice to double back over the same terrain I had already covered. As I had predicted, the time I borrowed at a very high interest rate for the first nine miles with Emily came due with 6.2 miles to go. Those last miles were a test: like the Austin and Toronto marathons, the only thing that kept me running was knowing the faster I went, the sooner I'd be done.

My fourth marathon was the most fun I've ever had while running, but in signing up for my fifth, I was chasing more than just that runner's high. I hadn't left it all out there in Indianapolis. It never felt hard. Only a few months ago I ran a 4:06. I wanted to see if I was really a 4:12 marathoner or if I had a faster race in me.

Gun time/chip time discrepancy of about a minute.

I can now safely say that yes, I am indeed a 4:12 marathoner, at least this season. Although it was a very different experience (certainly not as painless or euphoric), I replicated the end result from five weeks earlier: I crossed the finish line 4 hours, 12 minutes, and 29 seconds after I started, a whooping 23 seconds faster than I did in Indianapolis.

Double-fisting it. (Kidding! Those are Shawn's. No alcohol for me!)

A PR will have to wait. Another reason I ran this race is because I knew I needed to take a break from marathoning. Rehoboth was my swan song: I've vowed "no more marathons" for a year (though my conviction wavers with each passing day). This temporary, self-imposed restriction on distance isn't because I've lost my desire to run long, it's because I know myself well enough to realize I need to reduce my mileage for my health's sake. The more I run, the more unbalanced my body becomes.

With my running inspiration/childhood best friend Emily
I'll be back to Delaware in a year for my triumphant return to marathoning. I just pray it'll be colder next time.