I promise after this post I'll shut-up about my first marathon. Maybe.

Note:  If you are tired of hearing me blather on about my first marathon, please stop reading and go about your regularly scheduled life (if you even bothered to click on the link to this post, that is).  Consider yourself warned.

So I ran my first marathon yesterday.  It rained the entire time I was on the course.

I'm a little tired today.  But my race made every frozen-water-bottle-banging-on-the-concrete pepper-spraying-myself-up-the-nose getting-all-wind-ragey wishing-it-wasn't-so-damn-cold-I-have-to-wear-4-layers I-just-gave-myself-tendinitis-with-tight-shoelaces long run worth it.

I drove to Toledo, Ohio, on Saturday morning/afternoon to run the Glass City Marathon yesterday, which is the flattest marathon I know about.  Toledo is also home to my unofficial official sponsors Jackie & Beth, who put me up in their house for the weekend, transport me to the race in the wee hours of the morning, haul my tired butt home afterwards, and must suffer through my endless running talk.  Jackie is also to thank for most of the pictures you'll see in this post, because she kicks ass with a camera.

Let's start with the play-by-play, shall we?

The race started at 7 A.M., so we got there (wisely) at 6:15.  The sun wasn't even up, and the traffic was already crowded.  Luckily Beth is a smart cookie and we parked on a deserted (at the time) side street and walked over to the start.

I give this marathon two thumbs up.

Unlike last year when I ran the half, I got there in enough time to use the bathroom and warm up properly.  I was strangely not very nervous while waiting for the gun to go off, probably because I have started this race there 2 times already as a half-marathon participant.  Which, you see, became a problem in my first few miles.

See how I kept speeding up and then slowing down?  I had to remember I WASN'T RUNNING THE HALF MARATHON.  It was hard to do when you were swarmed with people running the half all around you until mile 8, where the marathoners and half marathoners split and go in different directions.

My splits were all over the place, and it was driving me nuts.  Also, even though I went to the bathroom 3 bajillion times before the race, I really had to go at the end of mile 4.  As I waited in the port-a-john line, I decided to just scrap everything regarding a time goal and just run how I felt.  I was scared of bonking.  I was scared I would have to do you-know-what during the race in a spot where no port-a-johns were in sight.  I was scared of being one of those runners that is there but not there at the end of a race and has to be gently guided to the medical tent.

I was scared of failing.  So I decided to just run it how I felt and see what happened.  Actually, I decided to run it according to how my quads felt, since that is primarily how I gauge my level of fatigue.  Along with my Garmin, my quads are the boss of me.

Anyhoo, after the call of the wild port-a-john was answered, I dashed off at a slower pace, but worried I would soon take off again too fast for me and my quads.

And that's when I saw the 4:40 pacers ahead of me (who had passed me whilst I was relieving myself):

David & Chase, my awesome 4:40 pacer buddies.  They're in orange in the middle.

As I approached them, I decided to catch up and hang with them for a while, making sure they would slow me down so I would have enough energy to finish.  And hang with them I did--from a little after mile 8 all the way until mile 21 thereabouts.  As you can see below, we weren't exactly maintaining our 4:40 pace the entire time (10:40 min/miles):

I feel a little to blame for that.  Sometimes I was out in the lead, and, with my legs wanting to go faster, I think I may have accidentally pulled the group along.  But David, wise pacer that he is, pulled us back every now and then, which gave us some much-needed breaks.  

By mile 13 my quads were a-hurtin'.  But running with that little band of people clustered around Chase and David--about 5 of us, all first-time marathoners--helped pull me along and forget about my whining quads.  I didn't want to be the one who fell behind.  I didn't want to look like a wimp.

I didn't want to fail.

Mile 20 and onward was uncharted territory to me; I had never done one continuous long run longer than 20 miles during training.  But the group was there, pulling me and all us first-timers along.  David and Chase were cracking jokes, giving us mini-sight-seeing tours, everyone talking about the steepest hill they'd ever tackled.  They even let one of us (I think her name was Janet) hold the pace sign so her family could get a picture of her with it.

It was just after mile 21 that I started to pick up the pace and move past my beloved 4:40 pacers, my running security blanket.  There was a water stop around that time (there were water stations about every two miles, almost all of which had the most delicious oranges at them; between the oranges and me eating my gels just like I had during my long runs, I didn't bonk, thankfully), which I ran through.  I ran through all of the water stations, because I learned during my first half that if I stop and walk, my quads will take over and remind me just how tired I am, which makes it hard to get going again.  If I do that at every water station, then I am doomed--I keep slowing down until I am doing more walking than running. 

Anyway, I ran through the water station after mile 21, and this time didn't slow down to let everyone in the pacing group catch up to me.  I was tired, but feeling good.  Not super-fantastic, but good enough to start picking up the pace and getting into the finishing groove.  From this point forward, it was just me and the music, focusing on finishing, running the mile I was in, and spotting landmarks that told me I was getting closer to the University of Toledo campus--closer to the end.

When I hit mile 26 my quads were no longer speaking to me.  But I was elated.  I was going to finish.

I wasn't going to fail.  And I had run the entire damn thing.  After I crossed the finish line and got all my bling, I turned around to look at the finish line and started to tear up a little.

And then my quads started to seize and I had to keep moving before they locked up like engines without oil. So much for having a reflective, poignant moment at the finish line of my first marathon.  I was also soaked to the bone and went in search of all things dry and warm.

As you can see from the last two miles, I had some gas left in the tank I didn't know I had.  I think I could have pushed the pace a bit more, but, really, I just wanted to have fun.  I didn't want my first marathon to become a vicious, agonizing memory that needed to be excised like a boil.  Don't get me wrong--it was no picnic in those last 4 miles.  But I finished strong, with the Jackie and Beth cheering section the best sight I had seen in 26.2 miles:

Busting out a 9:45 pace in the 26th mile.

I even managed to keep smiling right after my finish....

...until my quads started seizing.

Just kidding-it wasn't that bad. But I was hurting.

I had a very hard time getting in and out of cars yesterday.  I had a hard time going up and down stairs yesterday and today.  Today I even went to work, and am feeling much better just because I moved around.  My quads are on the mend, and my IT bands are as taut as they can be.  The blisters that formed between the toes on my left foot are subsiding.

But it was all worth it.  I ran the entire time.  I finished strong and to the cheers of friends.  I didn't hit the wall.  I didn't have to do you-know-what on the course or in a port-a-john.

I proved to myself I could do it.  It was a great first marathon.