Virginia is for lovers. Lovers of marathon running, that is. A more beautiful marathon than Richmond I just can’t imagine; I’m so glad I ran this race!
Saturday morning just before the gun went off, I stood in line to use the restroom and struck up a conversation with the woman behind me. Turns out, it was her first marathon and she was really excited, nervous, anxious to get started. As we continued to chat, I learned that she and her husband are from my hometown. Small world!
I’m not the best at recalling every detail of a marathon, but I’ll try. The first few miles were a straight shot through downtown Richmond and basically flat and filled with cheering fans. Then, I turned the corner and came face to face with Stonewall Jackson (his statue, that is). Remarkable! Much to my delight, the next few miles were run on Monument Avenue which features beautiful, historic homes and wonderful statues (can’t recall all that I saw but Arthur Ashe’s monument was fantastic).
My favorite section of the Richmond Marathon was between miles 7 – 13.1, the run along the James River. It’s difficult to capture in words the beauty I witnessed, but I’ll try. Imagine enormous stone and brick mansions with huge pillar columns set in a backdrop of autumnal greens, oranges, and reds on one side of the road and the river on the other. Absolutely breathtaking! (I guess I should mention that this portion of the course features rolling hills, so you really need to pace yourself.)
If I’m honest, I’ll tell you that I positively hated miles 15 to 18. First of all, approximately 2 miles of this stretch was run across a slick bridge that was a bit of an uphill climb featuring gusty, cold winds and traffic. It was somewhere during these miles that my injured hip flexor started screaming, too. My leg actually felt like it could easily have been detached from my hip. Painful. Thankfully, a very, very nice man named Ray ran along side me for a few miles chatting and joking the whole time. Still, I thought of dropping out, but remembered Tom’s encouraging words, “Never, never, never give up!” Instead of quitting I opted to slow my pace, take some ibuprofen, and trudge along to the finish.
Before I knew it, it was mile 20! The final 10k! Wow! I couldn’t believe it! I was really going to finish this marathon, injured and all!! I smiled, no I beamed. (At least that’s what one of the volunteers at the 23 mile water stop told me.) As I slowly pressed on to the finish (my pace had slowed to about 10:00 per mile) I just kept thinking about how lucky I am to be a runner. At one point (I guess it was mile 24), I started to cry a bit and just kept saying thank you. Thank you, legs, for carrying through this distance once again. Thank you, heart, for beating strong. Thank you, mind, for tricking my body into finishing this course. Thank you, friends and family, for all of your support and encouragement.
At mile 25, I knew deep in my soul why I run. I run because it makes me feel strong emotionally as well as physically. I run because it brings me peace. I run because it boosts my self-worth, and while my feet are moving and my body is sweating and my heart is accelerating I feel like a beauty, something I’ve never been. Once again, I muttered an audible thank you and moved toward the finish.
The final stretch of this marathon was AWESOME! The finish line was at the corner of 10th and Cary Street, and when I turned onto Cary St. and saw the finishline at the base of the hill and the sea of humanity lining both sides of the street, I started to run with all of my might. Waving to the crowds as I ran, I let out few shouts for joy. I DID IT! I FINISHED! My time was 4:07:00, not a PR and not a Boston qualifier. But it was the very best I could do under the circumstances.
My mindset for this marathon was much, much different than any other I’ve ever run. When I awoke Saturday morning at 5:00 I promised myself that I would run easy and just enjoy the race. Honestly, that’s exactly what I did.
I would be lying if I told you that I’m thrilled with my time. But it’s nothing more than a memory now; there’s nothing I can do to change it. What I can do, however, is learn from this experience. The most valuable lesson I learned (I think) is that I MUST listen to my body and throw in more easy days along with the hard ones.