Staring down 42.2

Sheesh, you people - no pressure! But leaning forward confidentially I need to tell you something - it's only now, nine days later, I've felt that I could write a race report that didn't sound like a whole lot of whingeing and excuses. It took me this long to realise that it just was how it was. I have waded through my issues and am not buying into this whole feeling-bad-about-myself-because-I'm-not-perfect crap. I am old and fat and slow and I am a Very Slow marathon runner. This is how it was.
Pre-race
I had a bit of an inkling I wasn't totally on top of my game wellness-wise when I woke up on Thursday with a cold sore. Ewwww. Can anyone say 'run down?' Noddie doesn't sleep too well when Daddy is away so I hadn't had much uninterrupted sleep since Wednesday, but we got to Melbourne happily enough, then aarrgghh went to the in-laws aaarrrggghhh for dinner aarrgghh and to stay the night aarrgghh. I sat in the living room away from the footy, doing my race nails and sticking inspiring quotes on my gels. I couldn't think of many. Song titles - defying gravity, paid my dues; friends' names; sayings sent to me by you, my five faithful readers. I came up with 'it's a pleasure and a privelege', but I didn't use that one. Noddie only woke us twice.
Our plane on Saturday was delayed for an hour which was a bit of a worry - hello worst nightmare, being delayed so long we couldn't pick up our race packets! - but turned out ok. We did get there on time, and I got to catch up with my good CR friend Dizzey while we were waiting. She had planned to do GC as her first full marathon but had a whole lot of family/life stuff happen and pulled out. We were talking about our preparation; when I said my last long run had been 4 weeks ago she winced and looked away. I was still coughing like a seal with a pack-a-day habit and getting a bit desperate about my bastard sinuses. I told J after the race that I knew better than to hope for a whole marathon training program uninterrupted by illness, but I would like to actually bloody run one when I wasn't sick! It was all shaping up so well hahahahaha, but during the conversation with D, I at last found my One Thing, my reason, my mantra: STARE DOWN 42.2km.
We got to the expo in time and picked up our race packs, then spent the GDP of a small country on chest-and-sinus clearing medicine, on the advice of a charming and clearly very wise pharmacist (she was running the half). After a quick dip in the spa at our apartment it was time to catch up with Team Stupidly Determined at the CoolRunning pre-race do. To be honest I didn't really want to go but I'd organised it so I really had to. Using Noddie as an excuse, we didn't stay late. I was so scared I could hardly eat, and people kept saying don't worry, you'll be fiiiine. Don't worry? DON'T WORRY? Only the mighty Emma told it like it was: it'll hurt a lot for a long time, but you'll finish. A couple of annoying skinnyfasts kept faffing on that there were no hills on the course. We told them we had a lot more gravity to deal with than they did; we would decide what was a hill, thanks.
Sunday morning . Race day. Dun dun dun duhhh. I sat up the back among the walkers and the first-timers, just waiting. It was a beautiful morning. 1-18km - not so bad. I need to learn to go out slower...yes, that is possible.
19-24km - The drugs wore off. For half an hour or so I started coughing more frequently and my head was aching more and more.
You know what...I'm finding it hard to bring myself to go back there, I really am. Bloody hell it was hard. I think I'll just cut-and-paste my post from the running forum I belong to.

"Although I took a really long time - 6.16.58 - my race report can be quite brief. 'I was undertrained and off colour. I ran/walked 4:1 until my head ached and I coughed so much I vomited, cried, then walked, then took some medicine, then H'ed TFU and ran/walked every other lamp post for 15km'. Sounds a bit pathetic. Oh well, it was what it was and if anything I proved a worthy member of team Stupidly Determined.
In a way though, it was a good day and an important day b/c I stared down 42.2km and didn't give up.Highlights were cheering the CRs going the other way, seeing the Spousal Unit and Noddie at 32km, the Mighty Emma and her husband a few km later, and the wonderful Dizzey, who stuck with me over the last 5km. The support for us back of the packers is so lovely, it really keeps you going so thanks to everyone who cheered me on and told me I could make it.

I was just happy to finish under the cutoff, hop into the pool at the hotel then wobble back to the Surf Club to celebrate (addendum: and, after numerous restorative sherbies, remark repeatedly and with astonishment that I am So F#$%ing Brave I Can't Believe It. Thanks to all present for not telling me to Shut the F#$% Up. I'd had a Big Day. You were very kind). On the principle that you value most the things that were hardest to acquire, my second marathon finishers' medal will always be one of my proudest posessions (btw, how nice is the bling this year? Well done, organisers!). Team SD does Gold Coast 2010
I wish I hadn't watched the race videos though, nothing like illusions shattered, I don't look like Paula Radcliffe at all . "
THE END

My race was ruled by the thought pain is inevitable: suffering is optional. That made things simpler, if not any easier. It was hard, it was difficult, it was painful. But I couldn't with any truthfulness call it awful, or horrible. I could say with accuracy that it hurt, but thinking this sucks, I hate this was a choice. Dammit. Because I knew that, I couldn't go there, no matter how much i hurt or how tired I was. It never crossed my mind to give up. There was simply no reason to stop. That thought saved me from the despair death spiral. I owe my medal -which I am of course still wearing - to that thought.
Why did it not even cross my mind to DNS or drop back to the half? My options were finish under the cutoff (preferred), be dragged off the course (seemed likely at one stage, hurrah for medicine!), or be pulled off the course by the sag wagon. Every time I saw that b#$%$# van I told it to f#$% off, under my breath of course, I've been well brought up. I was NOT going to shave 4-5km off the course like a bloke I passed twice, but who never passed me. You work it out. I saw him later with a finisher's shirt talking about how he was worried about making the cutoff. Shame on you sir!

Here's a video of my oh-so-happy finish. You might want to turn down the sound a bit, the Mighty Emma is Very Excited. Being in the finishing chute - at last! - meant I no longer had to fiercely restrict my thinking to Just Keep Moving. I could finally, finally entertain the sweet sweet thoughts that I was going to finish, and that I could stop. You bet your sweet bippy I was pleased.

The Spousal Unit asked why I do these enormously challenging things. I explained that I need to keep pushing my limits. I need to stare down Hard Things. I find it very interesting to develop mental and physical strategies to Just keep Moving No Matter What, and throw them at race day. There was a pause. Then he said ok, I know why you do it...but why do you want to do it?

Which is the big question. The answer is, because I want to. And that's enough.

And this is enough for today.
More anon, patient ones. Splash on!