SHE would have to read the Book of Mormon (again), The Count of Monte Cristo, and Jesus the Christ.
HE would have to train for and run a half-marathon of his choosing.
I'm pleased to say I fulfilled my end of the challenge earlier this year and, as of this past Saturday, the Gregrunner has fulfilled his.
Now for all the nitty gritty details of race day.
Getting to the race was probably the most exciting part. We had to leave our hotel by 6am. The courtesy shuttle to the metro 0.7 miles away didn't start until 7am. Our solution? Call a taxi, it can't be that expensive...
Oh but it was. Any guesses? 5 bucks? Max? Haha! For a POINT SEVEN mile one-way trip it was $7.20. That's a dollar per tenth of a mile, people.
I died.
But there wasn't anything I could do about it.
Then the metro trains were packed like unto sardines and we had to wait for almost an hour to squeeze onto one. And by squeeze I mean, you are intimately involved with at least nine other people, squeeze.
It was quite the experience.
So we got there with T-minus 5 minutes to race start and thought "Hey! We're late already! Let's pee!". And that began a loooooong wait at the port-a-potties. And then a scurrying about to find the bag drop. And then a sprinting to get to our respective race corrals. The Gregrunner found his and there was a quick kiss and a "good luck!" and a"we'll meet at the 'W' check point at the finish" and a parting.
I briskly walked closer to the start, anxiously looking for corral 6. No such luck. That corral had started ages ago. I snuck in with corral 16 and waited a few minutes. Then. Then! It all began. With a grand announcement and earsplitting Miley Cyrus blaring thru the speakers, we were off!
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This was the part where I ran 26.2 miles. But what else is there to say about that?
Pshaw!
Please. This is Kyoo here. I can type all day.
It started with mile 1. Hordes, hordes, and more hordes. Dodging and stuff. There were over 19,000 people running (not including the relay teams) so, yeah, people. The course was pretty packed but not unmanageable. We ran past the capital and then on streets past all sorts of buildings and then there was this block of really stinky trees wherein I turned to a stranger and said "Mmmmm don't these trees smell danday?!" and then he looked at me like you might look at your counter when you swear you left your keys there but they're not there.
I don't know why he looked at me like that but he did.
Can I tell you about the part of the race just 4 miles in where my new iPhone started doing all the tricks from my old iPhone?? The voice control is going to haunt me forever!! It kept interrupting my music and then telling me it couldn't find any matches and then I would tell it to go to hot places and it would remind me "No match found". Energy sap! No music during a marathon is a morale drain.
But then I saw a sign. A sign that said "Chuck Norris has never run a marathon". And I thought "Yeah! Boo-yah! Let's do this!".
And so I did it. I was kind of hoping for a 3:40 finish but, at mile 20, I realized I'd have to run the last 10k in a time faster than my current 10k PR and adjusted my hopes and dreams slightly.
It was a pretty hot race with a smattering of hills. I was pleased to cross the finish line in 3:53:30.
No, I was thrilled. There's nothing like a marathon and the feeling of giving everything. Leaving it all on the course. Pushing past mile 20 and then 21 and, ages later 23 on up. Each of those last miles gets longer and longer and you just have to keep telling yourself, "This eventually ends. Just keep going."
I started counting steps at mile 23. I counted every fourth step in this entrancing rhythm. Up to 100. Then I started over again. I don't know what it is about counting steps but it did the trick. Once I finally laid eyes on the finish I gutted it out at full speeded shuffle.
The finish chute at the Rock 'N' Roll DC marathon was something of a klutzy paradise. I got a really shiny, heavy medal. And then I spilled water everywhere because I wasn't coordinated enough to just pour it in my mouth. I tried squatting down to stretch my legs out a bit. But then I realized I couldn't get back up. So I had to rock back onto the ground and stand up on all fours like a 2-year-old.
Then I hit the food stands. Oh sweet bertha the food stands! Greek yogurt and snickers bars and bagels and fruit and gatorade and chocolate milk. Chocolate milk!
This marathon takes the cake on post-race food. Speaking of cake...that would have been nice too.
A kind man helped me open my chocolate milk box, too. Because I wasn't coordinated enough to do that either.
This was about when the Gregfinisher greeted me all triumphant-like having finished his own half-marathon. How excited I was for him! There's always this moment shortly after a grueling race where I have to choke back tears. They make me all emotional! And, hobbling towards him at that point in time, I felt the tears. The happy, elated, joyful, I-just-did-that tears.
The Gregrunner didn't have much to say about his race except that he finished in well under 3 hours. Which, let's note, beats my half-marathon PR. (I've never run one...). But he would like me to point out that he had to stop and wait at a port-a-potty, on the course, for at least 15 minutes.
Can you believe my 6 foot 3, 250 pound of a Gregman ran over 13 miles?? He did it! He didn't love every minute of it but he did it. And what did he talk about all the way home? Oh, you know, about how the next one we'll be better. He'll be faster and all that jazz.
It's a slippery slope this running marathon races is.
:-)
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Good Stuff Eatery was on the menu for our post-race splurge. Toasted marshmallow shake with rosemary fries and the Good Stuff Melt chicken sandwich. It. Was. Divine.
I have eaten at Good Stuff a few times and I'm fairly certain I would fly to DC just to eat there.
Probably not but I had to say something for dramatic effect.
It was a burger well-earned.
As was that afternoon nap.
To my Gregdude, it was so fun sharing race day with you! Remember how you've finished a race distance I've never even done before?? I'm glad you've dipped into my world just a bit and can now join my woeful conversations about chaffing and sticky energy gels and people running in tutus, just like an old pro.
Now, before we tie up this hecka long post, can I talk about my socks? Those leprechaun tube socks up there?
Well. Those socks.
Are compression socks.
And, I can't say for certain yet, but I think they might live up to their hype. My calves are normally strung tighter than a violin after a race. But this time? Nothing. They felt fine the day after.
How's that for crazy? I'll let you know once I've tested them out a bit more.
Have a great day :-)
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