Sunday morning's run started at the Hudson River path at 34th Street. When I arrived in the darkness of 6:45am, I was amused by the fact that others had risen at an unGodly hour on a Sunday morning for an even more inane reason than to run 20 miles. Outside the Javits Center, a line 100+ long had convened to audition for "America's Got Talent," one of the "American Idol" spin-offs. America does have talent, but I think its fair to say the majority of them are not loitering outside the Javits Center in the wee hours of a Sunday morning. Still, I appreciated the tenacity of spirit. And speaking of tenacity... I strapped on my fuel belt and geared up for 20 around the perimeter of Manhattan. Just for kicks, I "translated" this 20 to the Marathon route. I ran the equivalent from the starting line on Staten Island, up to the Bronx, at about 135th Street.
Now back to that initial question...what does 20 miles feel like?
Typically, following a run, one is advised to stretch. The muscles are warm, pliable, and happy to be gently massaged. Apparently, at 20 miles, the body (or more precisely, my body) decides that, having stopped being forced to run, it will do NOTHING. It won't walk, it won't bend, it won't turn, and it sure as hell won't stretch. Eventually, all parts resumed normal function, but I'd be lying if I didn't confess to some uncertainty as to how those final 6 marathon miles will impact this novice runner. Someone, please have a wheelbarrow ready.
Among other things learned on this, my longest run to date:
1.) I can report with confidence (though I won't), each and every area on my person that chafes. Similarly, I have confirmed exactly how much Vaseline is required, per part, to prevent unpleasant side effects.
2.) A corollary to the earlier mention of my fuel belt; The back of the belt is equipped with a velcro pocket, about large enough to hold a credit card and a house key. Being that I knew I'd be running for close to 4 hours, I loaded the pocket with several snacks, my Ipad shuffle, and a couple of bucks. The comfort I felt having these items with me was quickly obliterated when, removing the belt after finishing, a shooting pain hit the small of my back. Apparently, the weight of these items in my overstuffed pocket, was jamming into my back with each and every step. I didn't realize this until I'd stopped moving. I guess it's sort of like when you hear a clock tick for awhile, you eventually stop hearing it until someone points it out. Except that, in my case, instead of hearing the clock, its pendulum knocked the s*it out of my backside. Lesson: No fuel belt at the Marathon; stop at every water station.
3.) People "in the know" say that if you can run 20 miles, you can run the Marathon.
The sweetest lesson learned.
This won't be my last post before the Big Day (Sunday, November 6th,) but I did want to take a moment to thank you all for your readership over these last months of training. Your encouragement, emotionally, financially and in all other ways, has been tremendously important to me, and I am deeply grateful. And speaking of finances, I am happy to report that as of this post, and as a result of your generosity, I am at 98% of my fundraising goal! Can I entice anyone to chip in that final 2 percent? Pweety pwease? That's $44.82 (but feel free to round up.)
Thanks again!
One step at a time,
Dayna
