Last Saturday, after 18 weeks of diligent training, I ran my first full marathon. Running 26.2 on September 21, 2019 in Dayton Ohio required perseverance, endurance, and stamina. Thankfully, the Air Force Marathon was well supported and staffed. I couldn't have asked for a better experience. Well, I would gladly have given away the HOT temperatures we ran in, but that wasn't anything Air Force Marathon could have changed. They did provide adequate support for the extreme temperatures.
Race Goal: Finish my first marathon upright
The Expo
The Air Force Marathon Expo offered hundreds of vendors with gear, nutrition, other races, and local information. We visited briefly, and I posed in front of the giant 26.2 and told myself I couldn't share that photo until after I ran 26.2. I picked up my bib and stopped by The Running Wife booth to see my friend and running coach, Ashleigh Freda. Ashleigh and Kathryn wished me well and handed me a bag of Honey Stinger nutrition and a 26.2 magnet to be placed on my car only after I finished the race.
Local Bakery
After the Expo, we headed to Dayton's historic district and St. Anne the Tart Bakery. If you visit Dayton, be sure to check out St. Anne. You will experience a creative and comfortable environment with plenty of natural lighting for a peaceful afternoon (or morning) treat. We arrived on the last day of their summer menu and I enjoyed a raspberry tart and sparking water (hydration!) while my husband sipped a latte and ate a brownie.
Night before the race
I began calming my nerves by re-reading excerpts from Deena Kastor's book Let Your Mind Run: A Memoir of Thinking My Way to Victory and writing in my journal around 8 pm when I also drank more water and a cup of chamomile tea. In usual fashion, I laid out my race clothing, gear, and nutrition, and double checked my music playlist to be sure I had added the songs recommended by my students.
Race Morning
Up by 3:45 am feeling nervous but ready. I ate my usual half of a bagel with peanut butter, drank 8 ounces of water and 4 ounces of Shield before 5am. Took a cold shower, applied sunscreen, got dressed and packed up everything since we planned to drive home after the race. We left the hotel 2 hours before the race was to begin, plenty of time we thought. As we approached the Woodman Gate entrance to park, we stalled to almost a standstill in traffic for nearly an hour, and I grew more nervous about having enough time to get through security and to the start line. Ample deep breathing and internal self-talking kept me sane. As soon as we pulled into the grassy field to park, it started raining. Thankfully, Ashleigh had warned me to cover my feet for parking in the grass since the morning dew would keep it wet until after we started the race. I had also grabbed a trash bag and placed it in my go-bag. I used plastic grocery sacks around my feet and the trash bag on my upper half to stay dry for the next 30-40 minutes. Made it through security and a quick pit stop in plenty of time to enter my starting coral before 7:30. And then, the lightening started, and they announced a lightening delay. 30 minutes later we saw an aircraft flyover and fireworks. I was ready to go...but then...more lightening and another delay.
I crossed the start line at 8:35 am, an hour later than I should have started if the race had begun on time. No time to worry about what this would mean for the temperatures later in the day; it was time to run. Since I generally use Map My Run to track my pace and miles, I decided to forgo it because I worried it would drain my phone battery, and I really wanted to have music while I ran and access to my phone if I needed it. Instead, I looked at the time on my Fitbit to gauge my general pace. I finished mile 1 at 9:45 am. "Cool. a ten minute mile. Oh. wait. Not cool at all." That was WAY too fast for me in my first mile of running 26.2. I needed to average something closer to 13 minutes since I had 25 miles to go. I slowed down a bit but still felt the high energy and ran my first 5K in 33 minutes. Still too fast. My confidence started to waver a bit knowing I still had so many miles to run and had already made major mistakes in my start.
I looked down at the words I had written on my handheld water bottle and a smile crossed my face. One mile at a time. Run the Mile You're In. Choose Joy. Happy, stronger, confident, loving, peaceful, survivor, leader. These last 7 words were sent to me by Ashleigh a few days earlier. I remembered to smile and enjoy my first marathon.
Wear Blue Mile to Remember. During the Wear Blue Mile to Remember honoring fallen service members, I felt grateful and patriotic. I ran here without music out of respect for the fallen. Flags flying, bells ringing, and volunteers cheering made for a quick mile. Grateful.
At the full marathon/half-marathon split, I remember thinking...there's no turning back...here we go...I felt confident and strong and was still running a bit too fast, I think. I made a pit stop at mile 4 because I should have done that again during the delay of the race start, and I was afraid I would stop drinking water if I felt like I needed to go. It was a quick stop, and as I exited the porta potty, a Galloway Run-Walk-Run pace group was going by with a 6 hour finish sign. So, I decided...maybe I should attach myself to this group. For the next two miles I ran and walked with the pace group, and it felt terrible. It was a mistake for me because, while I wasn't opposed to walking, the group (not the pacers themselves) but the others had "pixie dust" mentality bragging on how they hadn't trained and the longest run they had completed had been 12 miles. This pulled me down mentally more than I'd like to admit. I decided to lose the group and run. my. own. pace. Why wasn't I trusting my training? Why was I all over the place and wavering in my confidence? Once I was on my own again, I felt better. I listened to my music and trusted my training and gave thanks to God for helping me overcome so much in my life.
10K-13.1 miles. I had signed up for the alerts, so when I crossed 10K, I knew I was on track and had slowed down enough to run my own pace at a respectable time. (The mile 4 pit stopped helped too). Thankfully, the sun was still behind the clouds, and I ran the next five miles with relative ease.
Then, the sun emerged from behind the clouds and the aid stations changed their weather alert from moderate (less than ideal conditions) to high (potentially dangerous conditions). I started worrying they would cancel the race and I started worrying that I wouldn't get to finish. I crossed the halfway mark in a time faster than a 13.1 race I ran earlier in the summer, so I was still feeling confident in my ability to finish, even though it was growing hotter by the hour. I had been taking water at every single aid station, and I switched to Gatorade, knowing I would have difficulty consuming the nutrition I had brought with me. I forced myself to eat half of a Honey Stinger waffle at the half-way mark.
Fairborn Fly Zone
Before the start of the race, my husband and I planned for when I would see him at the spectator zone. He boarded the spectator bus from the start line to Fairborn and the spectator zone for miles 14-15. I looked forward to seeing him there and having a chance to change into my sun glasses and apply more sunscreen. However, the logistics of the rides to and from the start line did not account for a delay in the race starting, so by mile 13, I knew it was unlikely he'd still be there when I reached the Fly Zone. In fact, he was gone as were most of the spectators. A church band and a few spectators stayed behind for those of us toward the back of the pack. Grateful. The DJ remained as did the announcer, and I heard them announce my name Renee Boss from Lexington KY. I felt confident and proud and happy to be able to run. Made my last pit stop. I forced myself to consume one HoneyStinger gel, but knew that would likely be all I could handle in nutrition for the remainder of the race because it was just too hot to eat. I did, however, keep drinking at each aid station and carried a hand held water bottle for both squeezing on my head and arms and for drinking if I needed water in between the aid stations. Many of the aid station volunteers offered to fill my water bottle for me time and time again. The volunteers and aid stations at this race were phenomenal.
Mile 16. The first time I thought about quitting. My training took me to 16 miles three times and up to 20 miles, so the distance wasn't bothering me, but my training all summer was largely on shaded trails near my home, so the intensity of the sun without shade began wearing on me relentlessly, and I thought for the first time that I might like to stop running. Actually, I started thinking about excuses..."Maybe they would cancel the race and then they could come pick me up in their golf cart and it wouldn't be my fault that I didn't finish." The thought was both refreshing and saddening. I sucked it up (thanks to my sister for telling me the Embrace the Suck mantra) and pressed onward, knowing deep down that I would be disappointed in myself if I gave up.
Miles 17-20 I ran with a husband and wife team who were pulled off the course last year when the race was black flagged. They said they had been following me for miles and were glad to finally catch up with me. My pace had slowed significantly. We talked and ran and walked and ran and pressed on through the historic Air Force Commanders housing and sprinklers. We accepted sponges and water. We encouraged one another. We felt grateful for more incredible aid station volunteers.
Miles 21-23 Up hill over a highway. I knew it was coming, but I had forgotten about it because I was thinking too much about being too hot. Ideally, I would have used my visualization strategies and taken myself to a cool mountain in Alaska or something, but at this point I wasn't even listening to my music, I was just trudging on and trying to remind myself to Choose Joy. I ran into another man who was in the back of pack like me, talking to himself. I heard him say "I'm so proud of myself right now." I smiled and I turned around and said to him--"That's right. You should be proud of yourself." Grateful.
Shortly after mile 23, I ran into a pacer who had fallen off track and had given up her pacing duties because she was struggling in the heat. This was a woman who had run many marathons and ultra marathons, including a marathon she finished in 4:30. She was bent over struggling, and I stopped to ask if she was okay. She straightened up and we started talking as I held her pace stick while she filled her handheld water bottle with ice. I was holding my ice on my back which had started hurting like nobody's business. She started asking me questions and I asked her questions and we passed the next mile talking and keeping one another company.
Mile 24. The second time I thought about quitting. At this point, my pace had slowed significantly and I began to worry that I would receive a DNF for not finishing by the 7 hour cut-off time. I told my new friend, Janelle, I was ready to be carried off the race on the golf carts, if my time wasn't going to count anyway, why even bother going another 2 miles? I was hurting physically and mentally. I was ready to be DONE. Thankfully, we saw another Air Force service member just a few minutes later, and we asked him if we were going to be swept off the course. He assured us that we were well within the time allotted to finish, and I started crying. Crying out of gratefulness. Crying out of pain. Crying because I wanted it to be over already. Then Janelle said to me-- "pro-tip--save the crying for after the race because it's hard to cry and run and breathe at the same time." My tears stopped and we continued with Janelle telling me that we would finish together because now that she knew this was my first marathon, she wasn't going to let me quit.
Miles 24-25. Grateful. So grateful for Janelle, her company and her encouraging words. Grateful to be running. Grateful to be a survivor. Grateful for my sisters and brother in law for the texts they kept sending to encourage me (I could read them on my Fitbit). Grateful for my running club knowing they were cheering for me. Grateful for my students who I knew would ask me about the race. Grateful for my sons who I knew would be proud of me. Grateful for my husband who was sitting and standing outside in the heat all day long waiting for me to cross this finish line.
Mile 26. I could see the finish line and dreamed of sprinting across. I had told Janelle this dream, and she said to me "See that C-17 plane? When you get there--you need to take off running across the finish line." We approached the line of planes and I took out my phone to take a picture. My husband was there on the sidelines clapping and smiling. I got to the C-17 and ran triumphantly across the finish line raising my arms high above my head and bursting into tears as the Air Force service members handed me my medal and shook my hand. Finished. I did it. I am a marathoner!
______
P.S. The more I reflect on this post, the more I find myself wanting to shout from a mountain top how happy and grateful I am for the support from The Running Wife Club. Ashleigh and all the women in the running club not only supported me but tracked me all day and sent one another messages when they received the alerts about my progress. These women are friends, fellow runners, and all around amazing people. SO---wherever you live, feel free to join The Running Wife virtual run club. Members live all around the USA and support one another for all levels of running.
Race Goal: Finish my first marathon upright
The Expo
The Air Force Marathon Expo offered hundreds of vendors with gear, nutrition, other races, and local information. We visited briefly, and I posed in front of the giant 26.2 and told myself I couldn't share that photo until after I ran 26.2. I picked up my bib and stopped by The Running Wife booth to see my friend and running coach, Ashleigh Freda. Ashleigh and Kathryn wished me well and handed me a bag of Honey Stinger nutrition and a 26.2 magnet to be placed on my car only after I finished the race.
Local Bakery
After the Expo, we headed to Dayton's historic district and St. Anne the Tart Bakery. If you visit Dayton, be sure to check out St. Anne. You will experience a creative and comfortable environment with plenty of natural lighting for a peaceful afternoon (or morning) treat. We arrived on the last day of their summer menu and I enjoyed a raspberry tart and sparking water (hydration!) while my husband sipped a latte and ate a brownie.
Night before the race
I began calming my nerves by re-reading excerpts from Deena Kastor's book Let Your Mind Run: A Memoir of Thinking My Way to Victory and writing in my journal around 8 pm when I also drank more water and a cup of chamomile tea. In usual fashion, I laid out my race clothing, gear, and nutrition, and double checked my music playlist to be sure I had added the songs recommended by my students.
Race Morning
Up by 3:45 am feeling nervous but ready. I ate my usual half of a bagel with peanut butter, drank 8 ounces of water and 4 ounces of Shield before 5am. Took a cold shower, applied sunscreen, got dressed and packed up everything since we planned to drive home after the race. We left the hotel 2 hours before the race was to begin, plenty of time we thought. As we approached the Woodman Gate entrance to park, we stalled to almost a standstill in traffic for nearly an hour, and I grew more nervous about having enough time to get through security and to the start line. Ample deep breathing and internal self-talking kept me sane. As soon as we pulled into the grassy field to park, it started raining. Thankfully, Ashleigh had warned me to cover my feet for parking in the grass since the morning dew would keep it wet until after we started the race. I had also grabbed a trash bag and placed it in my go-bag. I used plastic grocery sacks around my feet and the trash bag on my upper half to stay dry for the next 30-40 minutes. Made it through security and a quick pit stop in plenty of time to enter my starting coral before 7:30. And then, the lightening started, and they announced a lightening delay. 30 minutes later we saw an aircraft flyover and fireworks. I was ready to go...but then...more lightening and another delay.
I crossed the start line at 8:35 am, an hour later than I should have started if the race had begun on time. No time to worry about what this would mean for the temperatures later in the day; it was time to run. Since I generally use Map My Run to track my pace and miles, I decided to forgo it because I worried it would drain my phone battery, and I really wanted to have music while I ran and access to my phone if I needed it. Instead, I looked at the time on my Fitbit to gauge my general pace. I finished mile 1 at 9:45 am. "Cool. a ten minute mile. Oh. wait. Not cool at all." That was WAY too fast for me in my first mile of running 26.2. I needed to average something closer to 13 minutes since I had 25 miles to go. I slowed down a bit but still felt the high energy and ran my first 5K in 33 minutes. Still too fast. My confidence started to waver a bit knowing I still had so many miles to run and had already made major mistakes in my start.
I looked down at the words I had written on my handheld water bottle and a smile crossed my face. One mile at a time. Run the Mile You're In. Choose Joy. Happy, stronger, confident, loving, peaceful, survivor, leader. These last 7 words were sent to me by Ashleigh a few days earlier. I remembered to smile and enjoy my first marathon.
Wear Blue Mile to Remember. During the Wear Blue Mile to Remember honoring fallen service members, I felt grateful and patriotic. I ran here without music out of respect for the fallen. Flags flying, bells ringing, and volunteers cheering made for a quick mile. Grateful.
At the full marathon/half-marathon split, I remember thinking...there's no turning back...here we go...I felt confident and strong and was still running a bit too fast, I think. I made a pit stop at mile 4 because I should have done that again during the delay of the race start, and I was afraid I would stop drinking water if I felt like I needed to go. It was a quick stop, and as I exited the porta potty, a Galloway Run-Walk-Run pace group was going by with a 6 hour finish sign. So, I decided...maybe I should attach myself to this group. For the next two miles I ran and walked with the pace group, and it felt terrible. It was a mistake for me because, while I wasn't opposed to walking, the group (not the pacers themselves) but the others had "pixie dust" mentality bragging on how they hadn't trained and the longest run they had completed had been 12 miles. This pulled me down mentally more than I'd like to admit. I decided to lose the group and run. my. own. pace. Why wasn't I trusting my training? Why was I all over the place and wavering in my confidence? Once I was on my own again, I felt better. I listened to my music and trusted my training and gave thanks to God for helping me overcome so much in my life.
10K-13.1 miles. I had signed up for the alerts, so when I crossed 10K, I knew I was on track and had slowed down enough to run my own pace at a respectable time. (The mile 4 pit stopped helped too). Thankfully, the sun was still behind the clouds, and I ran the next five miles with relative ease.
Then, the sun emerged from behind the clouds and the aid stations changed their weather alert from moderate (less than ideal conditions) to high (potentially dangerous conditions). I started worrying they would cancel the race and I started worrying that I wouldn't get to finish. I crossed the halfway mark in a time faster than a 13.1 race I ran earlier in the summer, so I was still feeling confident in my ability to finish, even though it was growing hotter by the hour. I had been taking water at every single aid station, and I switched to Gatorade, knowing I would have difficulty consuming the nutrition I had brought with me. I forced myself to eat half of a Honey Stinger waffle at the half-way mark.
Fairborn Fly Zone
Before the start of the race, my husband and I planned for when I would see him at the spectator zone. He boarded the spectator bus from the start line to Fairborn and the spectator zone for miles 14-15. I looked forward to seeing him there and having a chance to change into my sun glasses and apply more sunscreen. However, the logistics of the rides to and from the start line did not account for a delay in the race starting, so by mile 13, I knew it was unlikely he'd still be there when I reached the Fly Zone. In fact, he was gone as were most of the spectators. A church band and a few spectators stayed behind for those of us toward the back of the pack. Grateful. The DJ remained as did the announcer, and I heard them announce my name Renee Boss from Lexington KY. I felt confident and proud and happy to be able to run. Made my last pit stop. I forced myself to consume one HoneyStinger gel, but knew that would likely be all I could handle in nutrition for the remainder of the race because it was just too hot to eat. I did, however, keep drinking at each aid station and carried a hand held water bottle for both squeezing on my head and arms and for drinking if I needed water in between the aid stations. Many of the aid station volunteers offered to fill my water bottle for me time and time again. The volunteers and aid stations at this race were phenomenal.
Mile 16. The first time I thought about quitting. My training took me to 16 miles three times and up to 20 miles, so the distance wasn't bothering me, but my training all summer was largely on shaded trails near my home, so the intensity of the sun without shade began wearing on me relentlessly, and I thought for the first time that I might like to stop running. Actually, I started thinking about excuses..."Maybe they would cancel the race and then they could come pick me up in their golf cart and it wouldn't be my fault that I didn't finish." The thought was both refreshing and saddening. I sucked it up (thanks to my sister for telling me the Embrace the Suck mantra) and pressed onward, knowing deep down that I would be disappointed in myself if I gave up.
Miles 17-20 I ran with a husband and wife team who were pulled off the course last year when the race was black flagged. They said they had been following me for miles and were glad to finally catch up with me. My pace had slowed significantly. We talked and ran and walked and ran and pressed on through the historic Air Force Commanders housing and sprinklers. We accepted sponges and water. We encouraged one another. We felt grateful for more incredible aid station volunteers.
Miles 21-23 Up hill over a highway. I knew it was coming, but I had forgotten about it because I was thinking too much about being too hot. Ideally, I would have used my visualization strategies and taken myself to a cool mountain in Alaska or something, but at this point I wasn't even listening to my music, I was just trudging on and trying to remind myself to Choose Joy. I ran into another man who was in the back of pack like me, talking to himself. I heard him say "I'm so proud of myself right now." I smiled and I turned around and said to him--"That's right. You should be proud of yourself." Grateful.
Shortly after mile 23, I ran into a pacer who had fallen off track and had given up her pacing duties because she was struggling in the heat. This was a woman who had run many marathons and ultra marathons, including a marathon she finished in 4:30. She was bent over struggling, and I stopped to ask if she was okay. She straightened up and we started talking as I held her pace stick while she filled her handheld water bottle with ice. I was holding my ice on my back which had started hurting like nobody's business. She started asking me questions and I asked her questions and we passed the next mile talking and keeping one another company.
Mile 24. The second time I thought about quitting. At this point, my pace had slowed significantly and I began to worry that I would receive a DNF for not finishing by the 7 hour cut-off time. I told my new friend, Janelle, I was ready to be carried off the race on the golf carts, if my time wasn't going to count anyway, why even bother going another 2 miles? I was hurting physically and mentally. I was ready to be DONE. Thankfully, we saw another Air Force service member just a few minutes later, and we asked him if we were going to be swept off the course. He assured us that we were well within the time allotted to finish, and I started crying. Crying out of gratefulness. Crying out of pain. Crying because I wanted it to be over already. Then Janelle said to me-- "pro-tip--save the crying for after the race because it's hard to cry and run and breathe at the same time." My tears stopped and we continued with Janelle telling me that we would finish together because now that she knew this was my first marathon, she wasn't going to let me quit.
Miles 24-25. Grateful. So grateful for Janelle, her company and her encouraging words. Grateful to be running. Grateful to be a survivor. Grateful for my sisters and brother in law for the texts they kept sending to encourage me (I could read them on my Fitbit). Grateful for my running club knowing they were cheering for me. Grateful for my students who I knew would ask me about the race. Grateful for my sons who I knew would be proud of me. Grateful for my husband who was sitting and standing outside in the heat all day long waiting for me to cross this finish line.
Mile 26. I could see the finish line and dreamed of sprinting across. I had told Janelle this dream, and she said to me "See that C-17 plane? When you get there--you need to take off running across the finish line." We approached the line of planes and I took out my phone to take a picture. My husband was there on the sidelines clapping and smiling. I got to the C-17 and ran triumphantly across the finish line raising my arms high above my head and bursting into tears as the Air Force service members handed me my medal and shook my hand. Finished. I did it. I am a marathoner!
______
P.S. The more I reflect on this post, the more I find myself wanting to shout from a mountain top how happy and grateful I am for the support from The Running Wife Club. Ashleigh and all the women in the running club not only supported me but tracked me all day and sent one another messages when they received the alerts about my progress. These women are friends, fellow runners, and all around amazing people. SO---wherever you live, feel free to join The Running Wife virtual run club. Members live all around the USA and support one another for all levels of running.
