While It's Fresh in My Cloudy Mind

Chevron Houston Marathon
about 48 degrees and raining
Split    Time        mph  min/mile    
5K       00:36:30  11:45 5.11

10K     01:15:36  12:10 4.93
15K     01:56:02  12:27 4.82
20K     02:40:12  12:54 4.66
HALF  02:48:49  12:53 4.66
25K     03:20:49  12:56 4.64
30K     04:04:50  13:08 4.57
35K     04:47:59  13:15 4.53
40K     05:31:26  13:20 4.50

Finish Net 05:49:39  13:20 4.50




I'm really glad I stayed downtown last night.  The Hilton was awesome.  From the minute I pulled into the valet lane (What?  You expected me to do otherwise?), to check in, to mac and cheese room service (I was freaked out because I was awake and hungry at 11pm) to check out...the place was friendly, professional, and ran like clockwork.  I was super pumped to realize that I'd been placed in room 12071 - same as my bib number.  This put me in a beautiful King room, overlooking Discovery Green.  I'm going to write one helluva excellent happy customer letter to their management.

Being downtown allowed me to arrive at the convention center at 6am without worrying about finding a parking place.  I felt semi-rested even though I woke about every 2 hours last night.  I'm really glad I didn't have to get up and drive in from Sugar Land this morning.  Once in George R. Brown, I checked my gear and found a spot to settle in until it was time to head to the start.  Knowing I was in the Open Corral (read: slow runners), there was no point in standing outside in the rain. 

I talked to a young lady from Oklahoma City who also didn't sleep last night.  She said she almost chose not to run the Half today because of lack of rest.  Her husband told her that would be a weenie move.  What did I think of that?  Yeah, I said.  She was already here.  It would probably be kind of a weenie move.  She laughed.  She asked me about my gray bib.  I told her about the Corral system and that it was my first marathon and I was just planning to finish.  Time wasn't really on my mind.  She asked my age.  I told her.  52.  For just a couple more months.  I explained to her why it was so important to run 26.2 miles while I was 52.  It's the math.  26X2=52.  She surprised me when she told me how inspiring that is and that she will always remember me.  She said she wants to run a marathon when she's 52.  Wow.  There is no way in hell I'm running one 26 years from now.  I swear to God.  No way.  :)  I don't care HOW bad my OCD gets.

We said goodbye.  I went outside.

It rained.  Like a mother.  I was happy to have my clear plastic poncho to at least keep me from getting soaked - other than my feet.  I was running in my own personal shoe puddles before I hit mile one.  Squishy squish.  And the famous jam at the corral?  Wow.  It took me over 15 minutes just to get to the start line.

Here's what I can tell you about running a marathon.  Better yet,  I'd rather let Steve Prefontaine tell you about running a race.  "A race is a work of art that people can look at and be affected in as many ways as they're capable of understanding." 

I heard that quote about 2 weeks ago and scribbled it on a Post It note.  I've been carrying it around with me for inspiration.  I felt it down to my toes and in my gut and it moved through my blood today.

I felt it as I stepped over the starting line and felt my son's presence next to me. 

I felt it with every spectator who read my name on my bib and called out, "Go Michelle!  You can do it!  You've got this!  Looking good!"   (Standing next to them were my daughter, "I love you, Mama!" and all my friends and family who have put up with my nonstop running talk.)

I felt it when I looked ahead of me and saw thousands of fellow runners filling the streets and for a moment longed for my camera but instantly knew I didn't need it.  I will never forget that image.  Never.

I felt it when I saw my friends at the 21 mile mark with their dog, Ranger.  A beautiful couple with their adorable dog - waiting for me!!!  Suddenly I was the single most important runner in Houston. 

I felt it when I turned the corner toward the finish line and two years of emotion swept over me and I knew I couldn't possibly name everything I was feeling but I was feeling such...openness and authenticity.  And I was feeling love for myself and an unbridled sense of accomplishment.  And I let it out.  And dammit, it felt great.

Immediately after finishing, I retrieved my medal and shirt, claimed my gear bag, and found my friends Tom and Diana.  They asked me where I'd like to eat lunch.  Um...Anywhere?   I wasn't clear on exactly how to move my legs - let alone how to navigate Houston traffic.  They had a plan.  We'd get my car and Tom would drive it.  Good plan.  I was able to tell him how to get to Pappisito's.  Diana met us there.  During the short trip to the restaurant, the cement in my legs cured and as I swung them out of the passenger side of the car, I realized that I was carrying two forty pound blocks with me.  They moved, but it wasn't pretty. 

We were seated after about 15 minutes and 1/2 a Michelob Ultra.  Damned fine beer. 

I ate only half of an enchilada dinner I thought I would devour.  Not sure what was going on there.  Guess I'm just too tired to eat.  It was delicious but very rich.  I brought the rest home and I imagine it will be my dinner.  I'm not going out tonight.

I'm recovering and I expect the process to go on for some time.  I've already had a soak in a hot tub and Epsom salts.  My movie will be "Manhattan".  My flannel PJs are starting to do their job as I'm no longer chilled. I took a personal day off work tomorrow.  I have no plans other than to be kind to myself.

Speaking of which:  If you've ever thought you might take on a big project like this, I say, "Go for it!  You can do it!"  I'm sore - no, I'm hurting.  I also wouldn't trade the last few months for anything.  And today was a once in a lifetime experience for me.  Fantastic!

©Michelle Scofield, January 13, 2013 All Rights Reserved