A couple of months ago, during a 12k race, I had this little shoulder angel whispering little negative comments in my ear. "You can't do this; you aren't good enough..." it said. Periodically, I would let this little angel haunt my trainings, but I persevered none-the-less. And, guess what? I'm currently wrapped up in my robe, on my 6 or 7th episode of guilty-pleasure television, killed a container of peanut butter, and doing whatever else I want...
...because this girl just crushed 26 miles in her first ever MARATHON!
Yes, I did...and it was awesome. However, it was also one of the hardest and most painful activities I have ever done in my life. I still can't believe how miserable it truly was, but I am incredibly proud of myself for finishing.
This is the story -
The marathon itself was scheduled to start at 4:30 in the morning. (Since this is Phuket, Thailand, the weather is swelteringly hot as soon as the sun rises, therefore, the race had to be early.) I tried to get some sleep that night, but I definitely had pre-race jitters. Doubts and worries swirled in my head. This being my first big race, I didn't know what I was in for. Jason showed up at my house at 2 a.m. to drive to the resort hosting the event, which was about an hour away from us. Once we arrived, we oriented ourselves, did some stretching, and began warming up while runners from around the world started filing in. I kept saying to Jason, "It's four in the morning; this doesn't make any sense! Why are we doing this to ourselves?" We were having a good time, just joking around and feeling positive, despite the early morning.
We had our numbers, our race get ups, and our game faces as we entered the bull ring in front of the starting line. Over our heads, a giant timer counted down the last 2 minutes to 4:30, while the New Radicals song, "You Only Get What You Give", came on over the loud speakers. I couldn't help but smile. It felt huge being with all of these runners, from across the globe, getting ready to do something as big as a marathon. There was a feeling of camaraderie and excitement stirring in the crowd. Jason and I kept saying, "no worries, it's just a long run; we are just going on a long run." I was psyched.
Five seconds to go and we were bracing ourselves for a quick burst away from the group, so we'd have some running room. 5-4-3-2-1. The race had begun and people slowly started making moves. With so many people, the start of the race is more like a shuffle than anything else. We made it to the side of the mob and to some clear space. We were off.
The two of us were considerably relaxed. We set a good pace and settled into our run. I kept thinking, "I've been training for this. I can do this." It felt like a great start. However, about 3k into the race, something completely unforeseen started happening. I started feeling uncomfortable under my shorts. With every swish-swish of my shorts, my skin was feeling more and more sensitive. I realized I was beginning to chaff. 3k in! In my head, I panicked. Then, I thought, "well, I said that I'd do this, no matter what it takes. I'm probably going to be bleeding by the end of this, but it is what it is; no turning back now." At about 4 kilometers in, Jason stopped to pee and said he'd catch up with me. That was the last time I saw Jason during the race. I don't know if it was the darkness or if we were just focused on our races and didn't notice the other one running, but that's when we lost each other. Our plan to run the race together was derailed and so, 4k into a 42k race, I was on my own. Chaffing and on my own.
Swish-swish-swish. By about 10k I looked down at my shorts and I noticed that they were changing color. I hadn't run in the shorts that much - only once before - because they were new and I had bought them specifically for the race. I wondered if maybe my sweat was effecting the dye. Swish-swish-swish.
I completed the first 12k in good time, I was feeling good and just focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. 16k or 10 miles in, I was rocking it. Up hills, down hills, past rubber tree plantations, and around rural farms. It was beautiful and I was keeping a good pace. Swish-swish-swish.
I started encouraging myself: "I'm over 1/3 of the way done. Soon it will be halfway, then, before I know it, I'll be finishing! Keep it up!" 18k. Swish-swish-swish. At this point I was definitely feeling the chaffing, but I was focused on my race, so I doing my best to keep from thinking about it. Swish. swish. swish.
At the 20k mark, I stopped to pee and when I did, that's when I realized how bad of a situation I was in. Blood was streaming down my legs. I realized that my shorts weren't turning color because of dye, they were turning color because I was bleeding from my hips and legs. The chaffing had gotten so bad, that I was a little shy of halfway through the race, but already in a lot of pain. I got angry with myself. Muttering, "rookie mistake...rookie mistake," as I charged towards the halfway check point. Completing half of a marathon felt awesome and it motivated me further. Despite the swish-swish chaffing, my body felt fine, so I pushed myself to keep going. "Can, can, can," I repeated to myself. "I can do this."
Between 20k and 30k I started slowing down, but I was desperately trying to stay positive. I wanted to keep my pace, but honestly, with the amount of pain I was experiencing, I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what would make me feel better or what my body needed. I ended up putting my sweat band around my thigh and 2 sponges - that they give to runners to squeeze on themselves at rest stations - in the back of my shorts, attempting to alleviate the rubbing. Swish. Every step became brutal. Swish. Every movement was painful, but I thought, "I'm in so much pain, it doesn't really matter if I'm walking or running, so I might as well keep running." Swish. Swish. Swish.
The last 12 kilometers were the absolute hardest. (That's about 6 miles out of the 26 mile race.) As the track curved through the beautiful countryside, I was struggling to keep moving. By this point, my feet were feeling very swollen, my entire booty was chaffed (so terrible!), but I had to keep moving. I guess you get to a point where you realize you just have to finish it and that's all there is. There weren't any doubts or a shoulder angel's nay-saying comments filling my brain, it was all just, "keep going; keep moving."
At the 32k medical stand I stopped and grabbed some Vaseline, but it was too little, too late. The chaffing was unbelievable and had been bad since 10k into the race - what was a little bit of Vaseline going to accomplish at that point? Sadly, not much.
With six kilometers to go, I was a broken person. The pain was excruciating, my body was exhausted, and all I could think about was finishing. My mantra: just keep going. 4k - almost there. 3k - I'm so miserable. 2k - I'm so close. 1k - run!...RUN! Suddenly, I began to hear music in the distance. Then, the announcer's voice booming over the loudspeakers as competitors crossed the finish line. I couldn't believe it - I was almost there. I remember seeing the sign for 100 meters and I found myself unable to stop a grin from shooting across my face. Well, I was grinning and wincing - which equals a pretty screwed up face! "Run", I told myself. "Run!"
I made it around a wide corner and as if in a dream, the finish line came into view. It was unreal. As I was managing to hobble-run down the straight away, people lining the track cheered and waved. The thundering voice of the announcer was booming over the speakers, "Here she comes! Nicolaaaaaa Waltersssss! 23-years-old! From the USA! Whaaaaat aaaaaa finishhhhh!"
After running 42 kilometers or 26.2 miles, I crossed the finish line - completing my first marathon. I felt like a champion! Despite the pain and the brokenness, the struggles, the chaffing, and the exhaustion, I felt like a god damn champion. Hah!
Immediately, I was given some water and a medal for completing the race, but my thoughts were set on getting to the bathroom to clean myself up. I probably looked absolutely terrifying! Bloody, broken, and disgusting after the race of my life. It was pretty miserable, but I was elated to be done.
I found Jason once I had gotten myself together - we were both hobbling. After high fives and congratulations, we weren't really sure what to do with ourselves. I mean, what does your body need after going through something like that? We spent a little bit of time just being lost - kind of like being in a dream world. Finally, I started thinking more clearly. I changed into dry clothes, limped to the food tent, got some eats, and tried to relax despite the high energy event that was still bustling around me. It felt strange that it was over and I wondered if I was just supposed to leave and go about a normal day. It all felt surreal. Eventually, we hobbled back to our motorbikes to drive our broken selves home. Jason said to me, "This is what it is going to feel like to be old." Oh, geez!
So, that was that. My first marathon. I was probably in more pain than I have ever experienced and am still hurting a great deal, but through that eye opening experience, I realized, that, #1 - you need to wear clothes that are guaranteed NOT to chaff! Guaranteed! No way around it. #2 - A marathon isn't just a long run, it really is one of the most difficult things you can put your body through. But, #3, looking back, I never once doubted my ability to do it. I never thought I needed to stop or couldn't finish the race. Now that it is over, I feel really proud of my achievement. I didn't try to sabotage myself with self doubt or beat myself down with negativity. I believed in my abilities the whole time and you know what, I DID IT!
Sometimes we are our biggest critics, but sometimes we are our biggest fans. Learning how to believe in yourself is more than half of the battle and sometimes, when we are tested the most, we just have to put one foot in front of the other. Take that shoulder angel! Take that!
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