TST: Suffering Is Optional (Alternate title: Let It Go)

Distance:  26.2

Pace:  11:06

Official time:  Yes, this  time I got one.  4:50:47.

Wineries visited:  4

This morning, I woke up at a beautiful B&B in Napa.  Then Husband #1 and I hopped in the rental car and drove to Sacramento, where we boarded a plane to Vegas to collect our children (who were staying with grandma and grandpa).  Now I am typing this on the drive from Vegas to Phoenix.  Longest travel day ever!  Two days ago, I ran my second marathon. 

Husband #1 and I arrived in Napa a little before noon on Saturday.  We stopped at the race expo to get my bib and ridiculously awesome retro swag.  It wasn't like the big races I'd done in the past.  It was a small gathering of people who looked like serious runners.  At the expo, I realized I had forgotten my gels and my salt pills (they were unhelpfully sitting in the trunk of my car in Vegas).  I found some Gus, but no salt pills.  No worries, we found a pharmacy, where I bought 2 liters of Pedialyte and some electrolyte gummies. 

(This bag should play "Eye Of The Tiger" on a non-stop loop.)

 (Pedialyte:  Not just for vomiting toddlers.)

We checked in to our B&B, where we were greeted with a chocolate truffle and complimentary glass of bubbly.  Yeah, the marathon was less than 24 hours away.  But a glass is fine.  We went to lunch and, of course, I had to have a glass of refreshing rose.  It is Napa, after all.  Upon returning from lunch, our B&B host informed us there would be a wine reception in the wine cellar at 5:30.  It would have been impolite to say no to that.  We joined the other guests to sample some local favorites with the other guests (one of whom called cabernet “the Taylor Swift of wine” because every week they come out with a new one – puh-leaze!).  We ate an early dinner at a highly-rated Italian restaurant for some pre-race carb loading.  And you know what?  I am pretty sure the Romans made it a cardinal sin to eat gnocchi without a glass of red wine.  Okay, so over the course of a day I drank more wine than I intended before a marathon.  I also downed a liter of Pedialyte, though, so I feel like they canceled each other out. 

(Mmmmm . . . pasta and (fermented) grapes.)

I slept really well up until about 3:30 am when I started having nightmares about oversleeping.  Husband #1 drove me up to the start (stopping for a latte on the way) in Calistoga before the sun came up.  I couldn’t find my electrolyte gummies, but didn’t look too hard because I figured the Pedialyte would carry me.  I would come to regret that decision.  The start line was dark and cold.  I found the porta potty and then begged my way onto a school bus to escape the chill.  I sat there with a handful of other chilled runners, all of whom were expecting to qualify for Boston.  This was a small race full of serious runners.  I didn't see a single person in costume.  I kind of had to pee again, but couldn’t bring myself to leave the bus.  Another mistake I’d regret.

(It is the perfect shirt for the race and for this blog, but not for the weather.)

The sun came up and we started soon after.  I had one bluetooth earbud hidden under my headband (which I was so happy to have for ear warmth!) playing at the lowest volume possible.  There were no corrals, so I headed toward the rear of the pack, not wanting to be run over by all the fast runners I’d seen wandering about.  Miles 1 through 7 were dreamy.  I kept 9:45 to 10:00 miles over stunning rolling hills.  My “Run Now Wine Later” shirt was a hit with the few, but devoted and enthusiastic, spectators.  Then my bladder told me I had to take a break.  Damn.  Should’ve gotten off that bus.  There was a porta potty at mile 7.  I lost 4 minutes waiting in line.  It was okay, though.  I was still well on pace to run a 4:20 or better if I could give a good finishing kick.  Then the wheels fell off at mile 12.  My stomach cramped so badly that I was having flashbacks to childbirth.  I eased off the pace and eventually started incorporating walk breaks.  I drank water and Gatorade at every water station, but they never seemed to quench my thirst.  The nausea and cramping continued and I’ll simply say I stopped at more porta potties, which fortunately did not have 4 minute lines. 

I began to text Husband #1 on my walk breaks and make myself run as much as possible.  Husband #1 told me to take it easy because somebody had already collapsed at the finish line, which was scary.  (And yet, that person beat me by almost an hour . . . )  Around mile 23, I managed to figure out a slow jog that I could (mostly) sustain.  Although my abdominal pain was pretty awful, the rest of me felt good.  My legs weren’t tired and I could have easily maintained a conversation or given a State of the Union address.  People would see me walking and ask me if I was okay.  I would smile and say yes and they would reply, puzzled, “well you LOOK really strong still” polite enough to not continue “why the hell are you walking?”   Before I knew it, I was rounding the corner at mile 26  with only .2 to go.  Husband #1 had his phone out snapping photos, so I put on my best finishing smile and slowly jogged across the finish line, proud of myself for finishing in under 5 hours.  A very nice high school boy met me at the finish and told me how I looked “strong and ready to go back out there.”  Thanks, kid.  He personally escorted me to a water bottle, my medal (also fantastically retro), photo ops, and gave me detailed instructions on how to find the food and showers.

(". . . went the distance, now I'm back on my feet, just a man and his will to survive . . . ")

All I wanted was Pedialyte.  Fortunately, Husband #1 had it in hand when he met me.  I crumpled to the ground and sipped Pedialyte while I changed into flip flops.  My stomach started to ease when I got through half the bottle.  We walked to the car and by the time we got to the B&B, the Pedialyte was gone and my stomach was almost completely better.  Our well-appointed room had a jacuzzi tub, which I put to good use.  My legs were stiff, but pretty good and I was able to walk to a nearby brewery for lunch.  After a post-lunch nap, Husband #1 surprised me with a massage (the lady came to our B&B!).  We walked in to town for a delicious tapas dinner, where I almost fell asleep at the table. 

Overall, it was a good day.  I didn’t kill myself.  I didn’t forget my timing chip.  I didn’t lose any toe nails.  I ran through beautiful wine country.  It will surprise people who know me well that I am not depressed by my performance.  I could have had a better time, but it is what it is.  I didn’t hit the wall.  I didn’t fall short because of conditioning or injuries.  I made a stupid nutrition mistake that I will never repeat. My confidence is actually bolstered, not shaken. Haruki Murakami said “Pain is inevitable.  Suffering is optional.”   I ran 26.2 miles, 14 of them in pain.  I am not going to suffer by beating myself up over my finishing time.  There will be other marathons and I will run them faster.  My 20 mile training runs prove that I have faster marathons in me.  

Believe it or not, this has encouraged me to shoot for a 50K trail run.  When my stomach forced me to slow down and forget about pace, I was able to really enjoy my surroundings and my legs felt like I could go forever.  You can watch a YouTube video of the beautiful course here.  I realized I might really enjoy a race where the goal is to finish and I get to walk the uphills.  So next February I plan to do the Phoenix marathon with the goal of breaking 4 hours and then follow it up with the Crown King Scramble, a 50K trail run (with my only time goal being to beat the 9 hour course limit).

Monday after the marathon, Husband #1 and I went on a wine tasting tour.  Five people in our ten person group had run the marathon, two of them qualifying for Boston.  It was fun and I felt great (which confirms I didn't push my legs anywhere near as hard as I could).  We bought a bunch of wine, which led to my only true injury of the weekend -- a bruised arm from carrying a heavy box of wine through the airport.  

(The struggle is real, my friends.)