I must preface my race report by saying that I will probably edit it quite a few times as memories come back to me. It was a long day with a lot going on!
I proceeded to get dressed in my marathon outfit - red race tank with bib number, teal Under Armour top, black tights, New Balance 860 sneakers, socks, sports bra, gloves, and... ear warmers? I misplaced my ear warmers, so it took an extra 5 minutes or so to locate them. I grabbed my marathoners' bag and Nathan water bottle (covered in my Habitat for Humanity Global Village bandana from Zambia) and headed downstairs when my parents called to indicate they had arrived.
We walked down to Metro to see what the wait would be like. If there was no line, we would head to Rosslyn for a picture with the Arlington Road Runners. If there was a line, we would head directly for the Pentagon. Since there was nobody there, we headed to Rosslyn and made our way to the Starbucks for the picture and a bathroom stop.
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| We missed the group photo, but we did get one before the race start! |
The group headed from Rosslyn toward the start on VA 110, N. Jefferson Davis Hwy. As we walked down, we saw the helicopter flyover:
MV-22s perform a flyover before the race start
I began to panic as we couldn't find the UPS trucks. It turned out we had to head a bit further south than the starting corrals to find the trucks. Kate, Jason, and I maneuvered to the trucks together. I popped my Imodium, took off my sweatpants, and handed my bag to the Marine managing the truck.
As we walked toward the start in the group, I tucked in my shoelaces as my final precaution before starting...
My parents proceeded across the Arlington Memorial Bridge (the one where I fell and got scraped up in training).
I continued along the race course - through Arlington, to Lyon Village, and across the Key Bridge. Kate and I stuck together and maneuvered through the crowds. It was the only way we could go a decent pace, as it was packed. At some points in the early miles, sidewalks were available for use. We hopped on them when we either could not find openings or when the road seemed slippery. The most slippery points were in the beginning: the first large hill that, with the glow of the sun, made it seem like we were ascending into heaven; and the Key Bridge, which was probably not salted properly the night prior.
As we crossed the Key Bridge into DC and headed left, we saw the elite runners coming back into Georgetown (going the opposite direction of us). That sight really put their speed into perspective. Running along Canal Road, we passed the Clif pace group for 4 hours, 15 minutes. In my opinion, they were not maximizing their energy right; they took the hills at the same slow pace as the flat terrain, and they stopped for each water break. Either way, we passed them. We also came across a Wheaties box and two men dressed as penguins. The penguin getup included the yellow webbed feet, which made for some interesting shoes. We made it up the very steepest hill of the race, and then we flew back down in the direction of Georgetown. Along the way, I smelled barbecue and saw unofficial water and snack stops. I even saw a table of children giving out Girl Scout Cookies. I saw a bright yellow sign here that said, "It's okay if you pee on yourself!" with a winky face. I ignored the sign, as I had not indeed been stung by a jellyfish (or had any pressing desire to go to the bathroom).
Upon arriving at M Street in Georgetown, I felt like we were in an inverse parade: we were watching the entertainment on the sidelines, yet we were the ones moving through the streets. There were bands, DJs, enthusiastic crowds, and more. This was a great place to get lost in the moment. When we came out of Georgetown, the crowd support was still exceptional. I heard people on the sidelines saying, "Look, there's a zombie!" Kate and I were a bit confused, until we realized that a man in front of us was indeed dressed as a zombie. Then, we had a great convergence of spectator and running worlds, when we passed a sign that said, "Zombies are behind you, keep running". At that point, I said, "No, the zombies are in front of me." The man dressed as a zombie heard me, so he made a creepy face and pretended to lunge after me and go after my brains. I screamed and jumped a little, but then I laughed and continued on. It didn't break my stride; it added a little extra pep.
Around this point, I also noticed the medical station. I thought that they were just for the injured, but it turns out they had another function; they handed out sticks with Vaseline on them, in case any runners experienced chafing along the course. Luckily, I did not chafe at all throughout the race, so I passed on each swig of Vaseline. Kate said that she thought they were candy; that Vaseline would have been a disaster to eat during the marathon. I laughed and we continued on.
We made our first pass of the Lincoln Memorial and down to Hains Point, a part of the course I had mentally prepared myself for over the course of many months.
I was prepared to see nobody at Hains Point, so this expectation made each spectator sighting extra special. It was not, in fact, deserted, although compared to the parade-like quality of the rest of the marathon, it might have seemed like it to some. Hains Point had an abundance of cowbell and rowdy cheering sections. On the way north from Hains Point, out of nowhere, there were Jason's parents! What a pleasant surprise it was to see them - at a point in the course that was so tough, they were perfectly positioned.
At about the 15 mile mark, I began to feel the weight of the distance. I became more aware of tightening in my quads and calves, and I felt a greater need to consume Powerade. I asked Kate how she felt, and I said I was starting to hurt - that I needed to slow down. No worries, we slowed down but just a tinge according to the Garmin. I knew that I was putting forth my best effort, but I never reached a point of dizziness or needing to stop.
We passed by the Tidal Basin and its bridge. As we made our turn toward the National Mall, I saw my parents with their massive "GO JILL" sign. After the race, my parents told me two things: 1) Next to them, there was Stardust the Miniature Horse. I was so in the zone that I completely missed it and just saw my sign. 2) Runners that saw the "GO JILL" sign would scream "Go Jill!" when they ran past my parents. Even the other runners were cheering for me!
As we ran toward the mall, I remember hitting the 18 mile mark and thinking to myself, "Eight more miles of this nonsense?" I would have made a sailor proud with the thoughts going through my head. Around this point, I saw a great spectator sign that said, "I thought they said 2.62 miles". This inspired me to beat myself at my own mental game: I would take the eight miles as if it were a series of four 2-mile races. I could do this; a 2-mile race is a piece of cake. I headed down familiar streets and passed common landmarks. As we approached the Capitol, a fellow runner (who must have been from out of town) said, "Isn't it a beautiful building?" I had to agree - living and working in this area tends to desensitize me to the beauty around me, but it is indeed beautiful.
As we headed west, I thought that it was good that I hadn't seen too many people I knew, as I would not want to smile and wave and be cheery. I was working hard. Then I saw a row of cameras and had no choice but to smile and laugh and do something silly:
We ran up Jefferson Drive, SW, and I passed the museums that I see every day at work. I kicked myself for not telling my coworkers to watch outside of this location. It was bustling and full of spectators and bands, including one called the School of Rock. Ahead of us on the left, we approached 14th Street. The crowds roared along the echo of the drum line, as we got fired up to reach the 14th Street Bridge - the all-important point in the marathon. To reach the 14th Street Bridge is to be near guaranteed of a finish. On 14th Street, I continued to give my maximum effort without hitting the wall, although it was not fast enough to stay with Kate. She continued on ahead of me and ended up with a great finishing time about 10 minutes in front of me.
I had been used to running the George Mason Bridge to get across the Potomac River, but the 14th Street Bridge must have been four times its size. That bridge held the most dramatic (and mixed) reactions among the runners that I had seen. For many, it meant that they had reached their victory and they could finally start walking; for others, it meant that they only had a short distance left to the finish and a new spurt of energy was born. I maintained my pace; my goal was to finish in a respectable time, of course, but my new goal was to not walk the entire race. This kept me steady and smart.
We exited the bridge and headed toward Crystal City. I prepared myself to see runners coming north as we were going south; however, I had not prepared myself to go as far south as we did! We went all the way down to 23rd Street, which I knew from training was a long way away from the finish. In Crystal City, the crowds were strong as in Georgetown, and they were more willing to go out on a limb to interact with the runners. Many gave out food, candy, and drinks along the way. Crystal City was also where they had the race's official Dunkin Donuts Munchkin station; if I had taken one, I think I would have hurled. In Crystal City, I also saw Elyse - well, I know now that I saw her! I heard her voice scream "Go Jill!" I looked back briefly and saw someone that looked like her, so I was nearly certain it was her. In spite of the crowd support, I was still fighting the toughest fight I have fought so far. I knew I had to maintain a respectable pace as long as my body would allow me to do so; to give anything less than my best would be unacceptable. I could rest later, because, as they say, "pain is temporary but pride is forever".
It wasn't long before we reached the Doubletree with the Skydome, a landmark that has special meaning for me (as I stayed there as a high school freshman while at a soccer tournament). Around this point I was clear out of Powerade, but I was still thirsty. I started to take water at the water stations, but I still refused to walk. I was not afraid to let water splash on me, as I had gotten pretty hot through the many miles. I was reaching my goal. Only a couple of miles left - a short recovery run's away from victory. The Marines that lined the road barked orders and encouraged me every step of the way; I said thank you with each water cup grabbed, and I tried to put myself in their shoes as I passed them. How could I let a Marine down? I would tough it out and be worthy of sharing the same roads as them.
The highway took us past the Pentagon. At this point, I saw a sign that said "9-11 Memorial Highway". For some reason, I never knew it was called this. My mind flashed to an article I read about the first MCM after 9/11 and how brave those runners must have been to run past the Pentagon in repair. This, along with subsequently running past the white tombstones and gravesites at Arlington National Cemetery, magnified the dimension of sacrifice in the race. What was my pain, compared to that of our national heroes? My pain was temporary; it would last only fifteen or twenty more minutes. I would soon see victory, glory, and a completed goal, whereas our heroes could not fulfill their remaining goals. They would be looking on from heaven. I forged on toward the finish.
The 26 mile sign, to me, was the first sign of victory. Yet, having studied the race course, I knew that the hardest part was about to hit me: the steep uphill of the 0.2. I would leave it all on the road. As I ran up the hill, I saw my parents in the grandstands with the "GO JILL" sign, and I acknowledged them with a fist pump that would make most New Jersey folk proud. It wasn't long before I crossed that line and put my hands up in celebration of victory.
I walked toward the finish line to see Jason finish. I had tracked him on my phone, so I knew his estimated time of arrival. I was so proud that he would make his goal of finishing and happy that I would be there to cheer him on. He looked dead - just as dead as I'm sure I did - but he finished!
With this race closes one of the brightest chapters in my personal history book. I ran my first marathon, the Marine Corps Marathon (my current hometown marathon). All of the sacrifices made through training paid off. I finished with a respectable 4:13:34 and never stopped to walk or stretch once. I left it all on the road. Yes, I still have some lingering pain, but it is indeed temporary. The pride that comes from this race will live forever.
As we walked toward the start in the group, I tucked in my shoelaces as my final precaution before starting...
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| ...and I fastened my Smart ID from the ARRC to my sneaker.. just in case. |
We weaved through the crowds to get as close to the 4 hour corral as possible. We made it to about the 4:45 one when the gun went off and the race began. Luckily, there were thousands of runners that had to start, so we had a little extra time to maneuver forward. In the waves, Kate and I turned around and appeared to lose Jason. We waited a little bit and looked everywhere to try and find him, but eventually we gave up and just kept on moving forward.
About eight minutes after the start time, Kate and I crossed the start line. She stared at me and screamed, "We're actually doing this!" Indeed, those first steps would be the start of 26.2 miles. I looked up on the hill to the right and I saw my parents holding the big signs they made for me and Jason.
You can see my parents with their signs at 0:25 in this video.
My parents proceeded across the Arlington Memorial Bridge (the one where I fell and got scraped up in training).
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| My dad holds up the sign he made for me. |
As we crossed the Key Bridge into DC and headed left, we saw the elite runners coming back into Georgetown (going the opposite direction of us). That sight really put their speed into perspective. Running along Canal Road, we passed the Clif pace group for 4 hours, 15 minutes. In my opinion, they were not maximizing their energy right; they took the hills at the same slow pace as the flat terrain, and they stopped for each water break. Either way, we passed them. We also came across a Wheaties box and two men dressed as penguins. The penguin getup included the yellow webbed feet, which made for some interesting shoes. We made it up the very steepest hill of the race, and then we flew back down in the direction of Georgetown. Along the way, I smelled barbecue and saw unofficial water and snack stops. I even saw a table of children giving out Girl Scout Cookies. I saw a bright yellow sign here that said, "It's okay if you pee on yourself!" with a winky face. I ignored the sign, as I had not indeed been stung by a jellyfish (or had any pressing desire to go to the bathroom).
Upon arriving at M Street in Georgetown, I felt like we were in an inverse parade: we were watching the entertainment on the sidelines, yet we were the ones moving through the streets. There were bands, DJs, enthusiastic crowds, and more. This was a great place to get lost in the moment. When we came out of Georgetown, the crowd support was still exceptional. I heard people on the sidelines saying, "Look, there's a zombie!" Kate and I were a bit confused, until we realized that a man in front of us was indeed dressed as a zombie. Then, we had a great convergence of spectator and running worlds, when we passed a sign that said, "Zombies are behind you, keep running". At that point, I said, "No, the zombies are in front of me." The man dressed as a zombie heard me, so he made a creepy face and pretended to lunge after me and go after my brains. I screamed and jumped a little, but then I laughed and continued on. It didn't break my stride; it added a little extra pep.
Around this point, I also noticed the medical station. I thought that they were just for the injured, but it turns out they had another function; they handed out sticks with Vaseline on them, in case any runners experienced chafing along the course. Luckily, I did not chafe at all throughout the race, so I passed on each swig of Vaseline. Kate said that she thought they were candy; that Vaseline would have been a disaster to eat during the marathon. I laughed and we continued on.
We made our first pass of the Lincoln Memorial and down to Hains Point, a part of the course I had mentally prepared myself for over the course of many months.
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| Focused on succeeding at Hains Point |
At about the 15 mile mark, I began to feel the weight of the distance. I became more aware of tightening in my quads and calves, and I felt a greater need to consume Powerade. I asked Kate how she felt, and I said I was starting to hurt - that I needed to slow down. No worries, we slowed down but just a tinge according to the Garmin. I knew that I was putting forth my best effort, but I never reached a point of dizziness or needing to stop.
We passed by the Tidal Basin and its bridge. As we made our turn toward the National Mall, I saw my parents with their massive "GO JILL" sign. After the race, my parents told me two things: 1) Next to them, there was Stardust the Miniature Horse. I was so in the zone that I completely missed it and just saw my sign. 2) Runners that saw the "GO JILL" sign would scream "Go Jill!" when they ran past my parents. Even the other runners were cheering for me!
As we ran toward the mall, I remember hitting the 18 mile mark and thinking to myself, "Eight more miles of this nonsense?" I would have made a sailor proud with the thoughts going through my head. Around this point, I saw a great spectator sign that said, "I thought they said 2.62 miles". This inspired me to beat myself at my own mental game: I would take the eight miles as if it were a series of four 2-mile races. I could do this; a 2-mile race is a piece of cake. I headed down familiar streets and passed common landmarks. As we approached the Capitol, a fellow runner (who must have been from out of town) said, "Isn't it a beautiful building?" I had to agree - living and working in this area tends to desensitize me to the beauty around me, but it is indeed beautiful.
As we headed west, I thought that it was good that I hadn't seen too many people I knew, as I would not want to smile and wave and be cheery. I was working hard. Then I saw a row of cameras and had no choice but to smile and laugh and do something silly:
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| Can you tell I'm struggling? No? Good! |
I had been used to running the George Mason Bridge to get across the Potomac River, but the 14th Street Bridge must have been four times its size. That bridge held the most dramatic (and mixed) reactions among the runners that I had seen. For many, it meant that they had reached their victory and they could finally start walking; for others, it meant that they only had a short distance left to the finish and a new spurt of energy was born. I maintained my pace; my goal was to finish in a respectable time, of course, but my new goal was to not walk the entire race. This kept me steady and smart.
We exited the bridge and headed toward Crystal City. I prepared myself to see runners coming north as we were going south; however, I had not prepared myself to go as far south as we did! We went all the way down to 23rd Street, which I knew from training was a long way away from the finish. In Crystal City, the crowds were strong as in Georgetown, and they were more willing to go out on a limb to interact with the runners. Many gave out food, candy, and drinks along the way. Crystal City was also where they had the race's official Dunkin Donuts Munchkin station; if I had taken one, I think I would have hurled. In Crystal City, I also saw Elyse - well, I know now that I saw her! I heard her voice scream "Go Jill!" I looked back briefly and saw someone that looked like her, so I was nearly certain it was her. In spite of the crowd support, I was still fighting the toughest fight I have fought so far. I knew I had to maintain a respectable pace as long as my body would allow me to do so; to give anything less than my best would be unacceptable. I could rest later, because, as they say, "pain is temporary but pride is forever".
It wasn't long before we reached the Doubletree with the Skydome, a landmark that has special meaning for me (as I stayed there as a high school freshman while at a soccer tournament). Around this point I was clear out of Powerade, but I was still thirsty. I started to take water at the water stations, but I still refused to walk. I was not afraid to let water splash on me, as I had gotten pretty hot through the many miles. I was reaching my goal. Only a couple of miles left - a short recovery run's away from victory. The Marines that lined the road barked orders and encouraged me every step of the way; I said thank you with each water cup grabbed, and I tried to put myself in their shoes as I passed them. How could I let a Marine down? I would tough it out and be worthy of sharing the same roads as them.
The highway took us past the Pentagon. At this point, I saw a sign that said "9-11 Memorial Highway". For some reason, I never knew it was called this. My mind flashed to an article I read about the first MCM after 9/11 and how brave those runners must have been to run past the Pentagon in repair. This, along with subsequently running past the white tombstones and gravesites at Arlington National Cemetery, magnified the dimension of sacrifice in the race. What was my pain, compared to that of our national heroes? My pain was temporary; it would last only fifteen or twenty more minutes. I would soon see victory, glory, and a completed goal, whereas our heroes could not fulfill their remaining goals. They would be looking on from heaven. I forged on toward the finish.
The 26 mile sign, to me, was the first sign of victory. Yet, having studied the race course, I knew that the hardest part was about to hit me: the steep uphill of the 0.2. I would leave it all on the road. As I ran up the hill, I saw my parents in the grandstands with the "GO JILL" sign, and I acknowledged them with a fist pump that would make most New Jersey folk proud. It wasn't long before I crossed that line and put my hands up in celebration of victory.
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| Approaching the finish line! |
After I crossed the finish line, I heard many loud groans from everyone nearby - as if we had each just experienced something traumatic, like a limb being cut off or a gunshot. I didn't cry or show any sort of new emotion, as I had nothing left to give. We all continued to walk until we received our space blanket and medal, each handed to us by a Marine.
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| I earned my space blanket and medal! |
My primary urge and desire was to get some fluids in me, fast. After the blanket and medal stations - which were very crowded and seemed to take forever - the next station was Gatorade. I skipped this one in favor of the water station a few feet down. Aaaahhh. That was the most delicious water I have ever tasted.
I continued to walk down along with the rest of the runners, until I found a corner in Rosslyn where I could just sit and stretch things out for a bit. After a short while, I got up and found Luke and Olivia in the crowds. Once we reunited with my parents, we went to claim my bag at the UPS truck in Rosslyn. My body temperature was dropping rapidly, so I went inside a building and put on some new clothes.
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| Warming up in Rosslyn. |
We then proceeded to the Brown Bag, the closest place that was open for a quick meal. I ate half a tuna sandwich and drank a blueberry lemonade. By the time we left, my body temperature was regulated and I was okay to start walking again.
The convergence of ginger bread cookie and cookie monster.. somehow I'm still walking!
I walked toward the finish line to see Jason finish. I had tracked him on my phone, so I knew his estimated time of arrival. I was so proud that he would make his goal of finishing and happy that I would be there to cheer him on. He looked dead - just as dead as I'm sure I did - but he finished!
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| We made it! |
