At the end of my sophomore year of college at the University of Madison, I ran my first marathon. I had not intended to run a marathon that early. I had always told people I would run one after I graduated from college, when I had the time to train. I did not train for my first marathon, though.
Three weeks before the Madison Marathon, my friend Allison came to me for advise on a twenty mile route she could do around town. I had done several out and back loops throughout Madison, and I was able to estimate the distance of many of these routes based on the time it took me to run them. I began explaining a route that she could take, but it was hard because she had never been on most of the streets I was describing. I decided that I would just run the route with her and stop after about two hours, letting her finish the last hour around campus. At this point the longest run of my life was one hour and fourty-five minutes, and I had only done that twice.
The following Saturday morning, I woke up around 7am to eat a peanut butter/ banana/ honey bagel sandwich for breakfast (which to this day has remained my pre-long run meal). Then at 9am, I met Allison and we set out for our run. We ran at a conversational pace, probably nine-minute miles and dropped to 8:30s. I began eating some fruit snacks I brought along after an hour and a half into the run. We jogged in place at all of the stoplights to prove to ourselves we could run for twenty miles straight.
I ended up running the whole route I had plotted with Allison. It took us exactly three hours. When we got back to the dorms and finally stopped running, I felt a pain I had never experienced before. My quads burned, my hip-flexors ached all the way up into my mid-pelvis, and my shoulders, neck, and back were so tight I thought the slightest movement would make a muscle snap. Yet, after completing a twenty mile run with out dying or quitting, I figured I was capable of running a marathon. What was another six miles? So, I signed up for the Madison Marathon.
The semester ended two weeks before the marathon, and I went back to live with my parents over the summer. On race day, I woke up early to eat the same pre twenty miler meal. Then my mom, sister, and I hopped in the car and drove the 26 miles to the capital building. Yes, my home town is the same distance from the starting line as a marathon; the race I was about to run. The car ride made me realize how very long this race was going to be. When we got to Madison, we met up with Allison and her family. I nervously waited in a line to get my race number. All sorts of potential disasters were streaming through my mind. What if I can’t finish? What if I get injured? What if I have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the race? What if I hit the wall? What is the wall? What if I just collapse? All of this worrying made me have to go to the bathroom several times before I walked to the start. Finally it was 7:20, almost time to run. I didn’t do any kind of warm up other than walking. I thought who wants to run before running 26.2 miles? Yet, I saw people warming up all around me. Allison and I stood next to each other at the starting line. We were in a large pack of people, but somewhat towards the front. There I spotted my former high school cross country coach. I had heard he was running Madison Marathon as well, but I was surprised to find him in the crowd of runners. There was something about having my coach there with me that made me a little less nervous, but I still had no idea what I was getting myself into.
The first ten miles flew by. It shocked me to see how many people dove off the course in the first five miles to go to the bathroom. No one was shy about it either. I saw both men and women hiding behind trees and bushes relieving themselves. Allison and I engaged in conversation which helped the time to pass. We ran along side a woman who had run the Disney Land Marathon in Florida the year before. We also caught up to a man who had run a marathon the day before, was running Mad City as a “cool down”, and planned to run Lakeshore Marathon in Chicago the day after (the same race that was a mile too long that year).
Starting about an hour and a half into the race, I began eating and taking water and Gatorade at every other mile. I had brought my own energy snack of fruit snacks and peanut M&M’s. I tried to make sure I was never hungry or thirsty the entire time I was running. The strategy seemed to work pretty well. Allison and I kept up a pretty good pace and we ran together almost the entire way. We reached the twenty mile mark under three hours and realized we must have run over twenty miles on our training run because we were going about the same speed. It was also at this point that I realized the true torture I was putting my body through. We had just gone over one of the bigger hills on the course and I remember asking Allison, “Whose [explicit] idea was this?” Only to have her respond it was mine.
Around mile twenty-two by some miracle, I got a second wind. Allison and I agreed that if one of us felt good, that that person should just go. I took off and got faster with each step. I must have done something right in the first 22 miles of the race because my last 5k felt amazing. I reached the finish in a time of 3:37:31 which was good enough to qualify for the Boston Marathon in my age category.
As soon as I stopped running, the pain swooped in. My quads throbbed and quivered under by body weight as I hobbled out of the finishing area. I saw my former high school cross country coach and we congratulated each other as I waited for Allison to cross the finish. Then, I limped to a port-a-potty and signed up for a free-massage at the massage tent. I reached the point where I couldn’t walk/limp any longer, and I collapsed in the grass while I waited for my massage.
Unfortunately because the Boston Marathon falls on a Monday in April, I was unable to sign up for it. I had too many important classes on Monday and Tuesday that I could not afford to miss. I also thought since I had qualified for the Boston Marathon in my first marathon attempt, I could easily do it again. (I would later find out I was wrong). Training for a marathon takes a good base and a little bit of luck because you never know what kinds of injuries may sneak up on you. I had a good base before deciding to run Mad City and therefore I was able to run well.
Three weeks before the Madison Marathon, my friend Allison came to me for advise on a twenty mile route she could do around town. I had done several out and back loops throughout Madison, and I was able to estimate the distance of many of these routes based on the time it took me to run them. I began explaining a route that she could take, but it was hard because she had never been on most of the streets I was describing. I decided that I would just run the route with her and stop after about two hours, letting her finish the last hour around campus. At this point the longest run of my life was one hour and fourty-five minutes, and I had only done that twice.
The following Saturday morning, I woke up around 7am to eat a peanut butter/ banana/ honey bagel sandwich for breakfast (which to this day has remained my pre-long run meal). Then at 9am, I met Allison and we set out for our run. We ran at a conversational pace, probably nine-minute miles and dropped to 8:30s. I began eating some fruit snacks I brought along after an hour and a half into the run. We jogged in place at all of the stoplights to prove to ourselves we could run for twenty miles straight.
I ended up running the whole route I had plotted with Allison. It took us exactly three hours. When we got back to the dorms and finally stopped running, I felt a pain I had never experienced before. My quads burned, my hip-flexors ached all the way up into my mid-pelvis, and my shoulders, neck, and back were so tight I thought the slightest movement would make a muscle snap. Yet, after completing a twenty mile run with out dying or quitting, I figured I was capable of running a marathon. What was another six miles? So, I signed up for the Madison Marathon.
The semester ended two weeks before the marathon, and I went back to live with my parents over the summer. On race day, I woke up early to eat the same pre twenty miler meal. Then my mom, sister, and I hopped in the car and drove the 26 miles to the capital building. Yes, my home town is the same distance from the starting line as a marathon; the race I was about to run. The car ride made me realize how very long this race was going to be. When we got to Madison, we met up with Allison and her family. I nervously waited in a line to get my race number. All sorts of potential disasters were streaming through my mind. What if I can’t finish? What if I get injured? What if I have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the race? What if I hit the wall? What is the wall? What if I just collapse? All of this worrying made me have to go to the bathroom several times before I walked to the start. Finally it was 7:20, almost time to run. I didn’t do any kind of warm up other than walking. I thought who wants to run before running 26.2 miles? Yet, I saw people warming up all around me. Allison and I stood next to each other at the starting line. We were in a large pack of people, but somewhat towards the front. There I spotted my former high school cross country coach. I had heard he was running Madison Marathon as well, but I was surprised to find him in the crowd of runners. There was something about having my coach there with me that made me a little less nervous, but I still had no idea what I was getting myself into.
The first ten miles flew by. It shocked me to see how many people dove off the course in the first five miles to go to the bathroom. No one was shy about it either. I saw both men and women hiding behind trees and bushes relieving themselves. Allison and I engaged in conversation which helped the time to pass. We ran along side a woman who had run the Disney Land Marathon in Florida the year before. We also caught up to a man who had run a marathon the day before, was running Mad City as a “cool down”, and planned to run Lakeshore Marathon in Chicago the day after (the same race that was a mile too long that year).
Starting about an hour and a half into the race, I began eating and taking water and Gatorade at every other mile. I had brought my own energy snack of fruit snacks and peanut M&M’s. I tried to make sure I was never hungry or thirsty the entire time I was running. The strategy seemed to work pretty well. Allison and I kept up a pretty good pace and we ran together almost the entire way. We reached the twenty mile mark under three hours and realized we must have run over twenty miles on our training run because we were going about the same speed. It was also at this point that I realized the true torture I was putting my body through. We had just gone over one of the bigger hills on the course and I remember asking Allison, “Whose [explicit] idea was this?” Only to have her respond it was mine.
Around mile twenty-two by some miracle, I got a second wind. Allison and I agreed that if one of us felt good, that that person should just go. I took off and got faster with each step. I must have done something right in the first 22 miles of the race because my last 5k felt amazing. I reached the finish in a time of 3:37:31 which was good enough to qualify for the Boston Marathon in my age category.
As soon as I stopped running, the pain swooped in. My quads throbbed and quivered under by body weight as I hobbled out of the finishing area. I saw my former high school cross country coach and we congratulated each other as I waited for Allison to cross the finish. Then, I limped to a port-a-potty and signed up for a free-massage at the massage tent. I reached the point where I couldn’t walk/limp any longer, and I collapsed in the grass while I waited for my massage.
Unfortunately because the Boston Marathon falls on a Monday in April, I was unable to sign up for it. I had too many important classes on Monday and Tuesday that I could not afford to miss. I also thought since I had qualified for the Boston Marathon in my first marathon attempt, I could easily do it again. (I would later find out I was wrong). Training for a marathon takes a good base and a little bit of luck because you never know what kinds of injuries may sneak up on you. I had a good base before deciding to run Mad City and therefore I was able to run well.
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