Last Saturday I ran a marathon, packed our clothes and the next morning headed for Alabama. We're here for 4.5 weeks (Mike for 6) while Mike learns about the Air and Space program with air force officers. I'm borrowing my friend's netbook (such a handy, cute laptop), to try and forge contact with the outside world.
The marathon was hard. Very hard. I almost didn't make it. Halfway through, my stomach was not happy and I was not happy. I said to myself, "If I see Mike I'm getting in the car with him and driving home." Fortunately Mike did not wake up early enough to get to the halfway point, so I had to keep running. I walked a little bit. I tried to pretend that I had intended to do the run/walk method all along, that this was my game plan. It wasn't, but it was the only way my shimmying-without-my-permission legs made it to the end. I kept thinking to myself about how insane all of these people were. And I was one of them. When the finish line came into view I tried to lengthen my stride and "sprint." (After all, I am supposed to be fast, or I was once upon a time.) My hamstring warned me by tightening into an excruciating ball of pain, that speed was not an option. So I shuffled to the finish line, felt like crying but didn't and then I tried to make myself feel better about my non-reached goal time by eating three or four creamies. Here is the detailed story of my marathon experience that I wrote for the Standard-Examiner.
I finished in 4:12. And I'm trying to tell myself that if I wouldn't have stopped 5 times to use the bathroom and one long, long time to have my cramping feet rubbed out I could have reached my goal (4 hours). I don't know if I will ever run a marathon again. It was brutal. It was emotional. I guess if someone said to me in a few years, 'Hey Stephanie, let's run a marathon and train together,' I would. But for now, I'm content to cross it off my list.
I didn't really have time to process the marathon and the pain it left my body in because we got on an airplane at 7:30 the next morning and now we're here in a one bedroom hotel room trying to maintain our sanity. Did I say we? I meant, I. I am trying to maintain my sanity. Mike is camping with his squadron (although he's a civilian for all purposes here he might as well be enlisted), learning small unit tactics.
Pray for my children. :)