26.2 Because 26.3 Would Be Crazy

As you might recall a few months ago, on a whim we put in for the lottery (along with over 12,000 people) for the St. George Marathon. We would be numbered among the lucky 7400 chosen runners. I can promise you I really,really did not think we would get in.

Then training began. At first it was easier then what I had anticipated but as the summer wore on it got more intense. Not gonna lie here. My body was not a fan of the schedule and mentally I got stretched as well. But I was committed and wanted to live up to all the hype surrounding a marathon. After most of my long runs I would come home and question my sanity/desire to even finish. I thought about giving up more then once but Michael and Jami refused to let me :) Which in the end I am grateful for. After the l-o-n-g road of figuring out what worked for me nutritionally I finally felt like I could survive the 26.2.

The week of the marathon was supposed to be relax/gear up mode. I was anxious and excited. I knew I could have done a million things better but also knew that I had tried my best to prepare.BRING IT ON. Then tragedy struck.... Okay that might be a bit dramatic but at the time it sure felt like it. I was fixing lunch on that Tuesday and stepped on a HUGE piece of glass.As I was pulling it out of my foot I just kept thinking. Please no, please no, please no.

The whole situation was just surreal. I was literally in shock. My foot wouldn't stop bleeding and then the swelling began. The top side of my foot was huge. My two little toes were ginormous and the bruising was quite impressive (the nurse told me so!). The next few days consisted of regular doses of ibuprofen, foot elevation (aka sitting on the couch doing no-thing), Epsom salt baths, crutches, and most importantly alot of prayers. I literally could not even put weight on it until Thursday late afternoon and even that was with a serious limp. Mike gave me a priesthood blessing and I was committed to at least make it to the start line and pull out if need be.

Going into the race I knew it would be tough, I knew my foot would hurt, I knew that my legs would protest, I knew I would get hot, I knew that this would most likely be the hardest thing I have attempted ~BUT~ I also knew my family would be there cheering, I knew my friends were cheering for me back at home, and I knew that Mike would be with me every step of the way, and I knew I had to at least try.

To say the race went how I anticipated would be a gross understatement. The start was simply crazy. So many runners, such long potty lines, and my nerves were strangely calm. Almost immediately after crossing the start line my foot began to ache. I had anticipated it hurting but thought that adrenaline would save me from the realization of the pain for at least a few miles! No luck. After getting into a groove and simply telling myself to enjoy I actually relaxed and looked at the people around me and started wondering what their stories were. GUARANTEED I was not the only person there that was not at 100%. This little piece of realization certainly helped me throughout the race.

I was actually excited to make it to the dreaded Veyo hill which is only about 7 miles in. After reaching the top of Veyo and looking at all the rolling hills the doubts started creeping in. Mike just kept reminding me that we could do it and that we could take it a mile at a time. At least thats what I think he said if not that is what I heard! Thankfully by this time Jami was long gone. My gait (running technique) was all sorts of weird and my pace was way off. I was in full fledged make it to the finish line and not worry about time mode!

Around mile 16 I had a full on sobbing melt down. Serious. My foot was throbbing, my right leg was giving out because I had been favoring it, and I wanted to be done. Mike was extra patient as I was gathering myself and told me that I could do it. I took my earphones out to get a hold of myself when a grandpa came running by singing along with The Beach Boys. I literally started to laugh and got some much needed perspective.

After that point we wogged (somewhere between walking and jogging)and I kept picturing all of the prayers the girls had said for me and all the reasons that had tempted me to sign up in the first place. Each mile marker had a silver balloon which was such a happy site and every aid station from then on out had volunteers rubbing Ben-Gay. I tell you what that was heaven sent. I literally wanted to kiss each and every one of them. They were so incredible. Mile after mile we kept chugging along.

Finally at mile 23 I saw McKenna and my Dad. I was thrilled. This time the tears were mostly from joy and not complete pain. After a hug from her I was off once again. Then after seeing all my family in their marathon shirts holding signs and cheering I knew I was close. At one point I saw a sign that said only ### steps until your bed. That kept me going for the last 3 miles which took FOREVER. It hurt to walk and it hurt to run so my crazy wog-shuffle lasted until Mike and I crossed the finish line hand in hand.

26.2 Complete.

A few hours after the race and hobbling around like a 90 yr old pregnant woman my Dad asked me why people actually sign up for this craziness. He was SHOCKED beyond words that Mike and I had actually paid to run. So what is it about the 26.2 that keeps bringing people back? My answer, the satisfaction of making the impossible possible...... oh yeah and the SHIRT!!!!!