I was scared. I did not allow myself to get too freaked out beforehand. I knew I was going to be terrified so in the weeks leading up to it, I tried very hard to keep my anxiety in check and tell myself that I could do this. I was getting a little freaked out the days prior but again, it was beyond my control so I went ahead and just tried to let it be what it was going to be.
I think most of my anxiety stemmed from the fact that I don’t really “train” for such things. Yes, I know I run. Yes I know that I am capable of running but the past couple months I have really cut my running down a lot. It’s pretty much down to one longer run on Sundays and if I’m lucky one short run during the week. That doesn’t always happen either. In the 3 weeks leading up to Vegas I only ran 3 times. One 10 mile run, one 6.5 mile run and one 4.5 mile run. That was it. Three weeks before and my nerves were starting to scare me. What if this was going to bite me in the ass? What if I couldn’t run it all and I couldn’t do it? These were the overwhelming almost paralyzing fears that started to enter my brain as I waited for the race to start.
The thing about running an event like a Rock N Roll marathon one is that you are with 30,000 other people. Yes, 30,000 people total were there, divided amongst 3 different race lengths. There was a half of the half, 6.5 miles, the half marathon and then the full marathon. Over 20,000 people ran the half marathon, clearly the most popular length. The race was scheduled to start at 4:30, but the pre-concert was from 3 PM-4 PM and clearly you needed to get there well in advance to make your way to the appropriate locations. Half the fear is the unknown. And of course walking everywhere.
I should back up. The race was Sunday afternoon and we arrived in Vegas late Friday night. Like midnight kind of late. Travel takes its toll on my body. I am not the best traveler in the history of travelers. It just takes my body a smidge to adjust. I get really dehydrated and my stomach always has issues. The entire time I was concerned about actually running and the social phobia of being with 30,000 other runners but I never considered the physical toll travel and vacation would take on my body and subsequently on my performance. Friday night when we finally got to the casino I had a drink. It felt good drinking it but then afterwards not so good.
Saturday morning I woke up and I did feel better but then I forgot the other aspect of Vegas, you walk everywhere. I don’t have a problem walking obviously but add dehydration with lack of good nutrition and your body just being out of whack and by the time Saturday afternoon rolled around my right leg was fighting a severe case of the shin splints. I knew this was not a good sign. As I was walking around I was like crap, my right leg is already tight. NOT good. We went to the runner’s expo Saturday and got our race packets and partook in all of the booths. It was a good time. Saturday night we ended up seeing Zumanity. Which is like the naughty Cirque show. It was all right. It was entertainment but wasn’t the best thing I’ve ever seen.
Sunday morning I slept in, as to allow my body as much proper rest as I could get, all things considered. I immediately put on workout clothes as for some reason this always makes me feel better and more active. We walked around, had Subway for lunch and I tried to drink water and more water so that I was properly hydrated. I also did not realize how much more difficult it might be to wait around all day until 4:30 to run a race. It was an interesting balance act of not exhausting yourself, staying hydrated, proper fuel and of course not eating and or/drinking too close to start time. By the way, I failed on the last part. It was a good learning experience.
I ended up making my way to my designated start corral, 22; yup; all the way back in corral 22 with the other anticipated 2:10-2:20 time frame finishers. And the nerves were going crazy. I had visions of being dehydrated and already having shin splints in my head. I was nervous that once again I wasn’t a “real” runner and that these people, these other runners, would somehow think I was an imposter. I don’t know where these thoughts come from. Insecurity. I had to remind myself to breathe and had to keep telling myself that I would get thru this and I’d be able to run and even if I had to walk towards the end I would still finish. No matter what, I’d finish and get my medal. The medal was pretty damned cool and motivating all to itself. I was able to see the medal at the expo on Saturday and it was so shiny and pretty that I instantly knew that I had to own it. Just get thru this and that bad boy would be mine. So I had that in the back of my mind.
I think the fear of not having run all that much or training came into my mind. How do I keep showing up to these things and just expect my body to perform without properly training. Geesh. One of these days it will bite me in the ass. When you are in corral 22, turns out you don’t actually start the race at 4:30. You are released in coral waves and it meant that I did not actually start running until about 5:10 or so. Which was fine. We just kept moving forward inch by inch. About the time that 4:30 rolled around and I was waiting to start I got the urge to pee. Oops. But I was not going to leave that line and pee. I am kind of one of those freaks who doesn’t want to miss out. Always afraid I guess. So I told myself to just hold it. I was so nervous. In those moments before I actually started running I must have had a million thoughts running thru my head, most of which were, can I really do this? How the hell am I going to do this?
Once I finally made it to the “start” and I began to run for real, all thought left my brain and my legs began doing what I know they can do. I ran. The biggest issue at first being all the freaking people. It was quite difficult to maneuver around that many people. You do a lot of stop/start’s…. But I wanted to run. That is the one thing that my body was telling me to do, just run. So around people I went, on high alert. Up on the sidewalk, around person after person. In hindsight, I perhaps should have started up higher because I felt like I was instantly trying to pass a giant heard of people.
We all have different strategies for running. Clearly I am no professional runner. This is what I know. When I start out running I don’t mind running at a nice comfortable pace for as long as I can go. If I have the energy I want to use it because in the end my mind is going to do all the work for me that my body can’t physically do. I want to run when I feel like running. It’s probably a stupid strategy but thus far I haven’t really developed any other. Just run. That is my strategy. Do what I can in this exact moment. And I just wanted to run. Getting around people was tough. The first few miles that definitely slowed me down when I had my most desire and strength. That was rough. But about 1 mile in I had this amazing moment, this amazing epiphany, I am a fucking athlete.
Mile 1 down, on to mile 2. About Mile 3 or 4 we approached the Strip and I was passing people left and right. It must have been about 3 ½ miles in because I remember thinking it’s been about 30-35 minutes and people all around me were walking, huffing and puffing and I felt GREAT and AMAZING and ALIVE and I went, holy shit, I am a runner. And then I said, wait, no, I am not a runner. I am an athlete. Which is even better. If I were a runner I would actually train for this shit. I’m not a runner, but what I am is a bonified athlete. I am a person who cannot train specifically for this run, but instead spends 6 days a week training to become a kick-ass athlete and that is what is coming out now. I am an athlete. Because at no point during mile 3-4 did I even consider stopping, I felt great and was just getting started.
The weather was perfect. And I do mean perfect for running. It was probably in the mid 60’s. I was in a tank top and the slight wind chill offset the sweat that I am sure was happening but I didn’t feel because of the weather. I felt like an athlete and then the most amazing thing happened, I literally saw the first part of the Vegas strip ahead and the streets were literally lined with spectators. Thousands upon thousands of people cheering, holding signs and it was beautiful. I am almost certain I had tears in my eyes. This was it. This was that epic moment that people can go their whole lives without experiencing but it is one of the coolest things in the whole world. This is what it feels like. I was running down the closed off Vegas strip and thousands of strangers were cheering us all on. I was still trying to get around people. That was pretty much the story of the entire race. I guess when you have 20,000 plus people running one race you are going to spend the whole thing trying not to trip over each other.
I’d end up on the side of the road next to the crowds and these little kids would stick out their hands for you to slap as you ran by and it was amazing. Any time I saw a little girl with her hand out and a look of awe in her eye I went out of my way to give her a high 5. It was literally the most amazing thing I have done in a long time. I felt it. I felt the power of a marathon. I felt the power of inspiration, and courage and the high all rolled into one.
Running the strip at night was beyond epic. Take Vegas at night and then add doing something not everyone can do and it is just a cool experience. The lights were breathtaking from that vantage point. As I ran by each casino my smile got brighter and brighter. As we approached Planet Hollywood, mid-strip and the big reader board read, Go Luck Runners, Go, Go… the runners around me cheered and clapped. I am literally getting teary eyed this second writing this out. It was that indescribable of a moment that will live with me forever. For whatever reason, running along that stretch of ground, at night, being lit by the lights and sounds of Vegas, was pure happiness. Not to mention the live bands that were playing all along the race course. Yes, I had my music on low in my headphones, but it got trumped by the noises around me which was so much cooler anyway.
I still had to pee but decided that I was not going to slow down to pee unless I beyond had to. I did not. As I ran past Circus Circus at the other end of the strip and started towards the Freemont area it got quieter and I began to settle into a more running mode. Just me and myself and I felt great. Forget any physical pain, I can do this. Eventually we came across Freemont Street and the lights and sounds were back upon us. Onlookers cheering, lights flashing and the extra surge of adrenalin returned. We were at around mile 9 at this point. And I was still feeling great.
I crossed the Mile 10 mark feeling awesome and in control at about 1 hour 40 minutes and then something happened in the next mile or so. I hit the wall. Suddenly out of nowhere, I was exhausted. The miles did not seem to move, even though I was moving. I slowed down a bit. Not massively, but enough. Mile 11 came and went and I told myself 2 miles to go. You CAN do this. This is where my mental strength took over. I wanted to walk but I told myself that I had just freaking ran 11 miles so I was going to finish this crap come hell or high water and you were going to run these last 2 miles, even if you ran slower. You were going to run every single step of this half marathon. I should also mention every single water station was a nightmare. People slowed down, you had to literally jog in place to get around people. Definitely time slowing. But I made myself run even in those moments because I was bound and determined to finish this thing running. Around mile 11 we had one of those water stations and it took every ounce of my mental strength to not stop and instead run around and even in place for seconds while I tried to get around.
The last two miles were grueling. I ignored any physical pain or need to pee that had been forming. And then I saw the lights of the Vegas Strip ahead of me. That was a moment of happiness. We ran down the strip, to Freemont Street and then back up the strip on the other side. When I saw the strip ahead of me I smiled, because that meant the end was near. It seemed so close, even full well knowing it was 2 miles away. Vegas is deceptive like that. But it didn’t matter, I saw the lights and I knew I was getting close. I finally made it to Circus Circus and then I saw Treasure Island. The finish line was at Caesars Palace, right after Treasure Island. I did slow down. No doubt about it. The last two miles were all mind over matter for this girl. Sheer determination to run every single second. Sheer testament to mind over matter. As we got closer a spectator yelled out, you are almost there about ½ a mile to go. And I ran. I sheer willed myself across the finish line and it took me a second to realize that I had actually finished before I told my feet to stop running; I was done.
And then it hit me. Yes, the thrill of victory, the sense of accomplishment. The triumphant mind over matter. But also the exhaustion. The physical wear and tear on my body. My ridiculously aching shin splint. My desire to vomit and pass out. I had no idea I was that tired or exhausted or in that much pain. My mind blocked it all out because that is what our minds do best. I was immediately given my shiny, perfect medal as my visual proof of my accomplishment. Then I had to embark down the “secured” zone which consisted of a quarter mile walk. This had medics of to the sides, and tons and tons of recovery sponsored items. I literally got handed water, then Gatorade, then chocolate milk, then pretzels, a PowerAde bar, apple, a Coors Light, bagels, etc. My hands were full. I was so sick all I wanted to do was get thru this seemingly forever walk to sit down for a moment. My hands were getting fuller and fuller of stuff but I kept smiling and thinking about what I had done. But I wanted to sit.
As I walked by a girl was lying on the ground screaming about her leg and I hear people yelling everywhere, Medic, Medic. I saw medic tents filled with people in pain and obvious discomfort and it made my feeling a little nauseous seem irrelevant. I am an athlete. I have enough sheer grit and will to push myself and come out okay. I finally made it out of the secure zone, which I think was enacted to control security in light of the whole Boston marathon bombing, so I totally understand. But as soon as I got out, I found the first curb I could and sat down and gulped liquid and ate. But I had a medal. An amazing shiny medal and the most amazing memories that I will never be able to replace. So ridiculously cool.
My official time was 2:15:10. 2 hours, 15 minutes, 10 seconds. Not any record breaking pace. Faster than my last half marathon. Totally different conditions. I was kind of expecting a slightly better finish time, but given not taking into account the travel fatigue on my body, the alcohol I consumed, the shin splints prior to even beginning the race, the persistent need to pee for the entire 2 hours 15 minutes, the constant heard of people one is trying to run around, and I will gladly accept my 2 hours 15 minutes. And oh yes, my complete lack of actual training. That always amazes me. I know I should train, I really should train more. But part of what I love about running ½ marathons or rather this distance is that I don’t really have to. That I can do what I want at the gym, live my life and not have to dedicate my entire existence to marathon training. I can show up on race day and just run the thing and be okay.
Sure, if I trained actually I could do it quicker. I am certain I could be more efficient and prevent some of my issues but I like that I don’t have to work that hard at it. I like that despite all of my setbacks I still managed to run every single step of that ½ marathon. That I ran for 2 hours 15 minutes straight. You know what else is pretty awesome and I will take it; I finished 6,705 out of 20,566 which put me in the top 32% of ALL runners. And get this; I finished 3044 out of 12665 women, which puts me in the top 24% of all women competitors. Top 24% of all women who ran the race. Not too shabby, considering it was never really my goal to care about placement. Finishing is ALWAYS just my goal.
It’s insane to me that after I crossed the finish line that there were still like 9,500 more women to cross after me and a total of like almost 14,000 more people to go. But you know what, every single one of those people deserve their medal because of what they accomplished. That is the cool part about running. You win no matter what if you cross the finish line. Yes, I did not “win” the race, but crossing the finish line was my win. My victory. I might as well have won because to me I did. I fought against all of my own self-doubt and esteem issues. I fought thru my physical pains and mentally kicked their ass. I did win my own race.
Fear. It is such an interesting thing. I’ve spent my entire life being so afraid of everything. Not being good enough for myself. How long have I been running? How many times have I lost and gained weight? Always running. Running. Running. And I never ran an organized race. I never once let go of the fear to put myself out there. That is what makes this time different. That is what makes this time around the final time. I am doing this. I am not letting fear control me anymore. Yes, I still get afraid. Yes, I still have self-doubt and have to talk myself down off the ledge, but I flew to Las Vegas, I stood in a crowd of strangers (always scary for me too with my slight social anxiety) and I pushed aside my fear to run. That is winning. That is breaking my barriers. And that is rewarded with one of the coolest experiences of my life. I was rewarded with this giant gift of memory that will stick with me always. I did it. I freaking ran the Vegas strip. I know what it’s like to be cheered on in a marathon situation. I feel humbled and blessed by my body. Humbled and blessed that I can put my body thru everything I have in my life and it come out the other end as an athlete.
It was the weirdest most pervasive feeling of my life. As I saw people all round me, of all shapes and sizes and clearly different athletic abilities, I realized for the first time in my life, that I am in amazing shape. That I am not just some runner, but a true athlete. Someone who could just as easily run 13.1 miles and pick up a heavy set of weights and perform. I am an overall athlete and this is what I am most proud of. I can decide to run a half marathon or push myself to my limits with weights, but either way I am becoming a strong person both physically and mentally and every single thing that I do is a step in that direction. Blessed and humbled.
Thank you body for all you endure and thank you mind for finally understanding and accepting self-love. Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to grow and change and mostly for becoming the woman that I have aspired to be my whole life. Thank you for this gift.
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