Check!

Well.

I did it.


It's been a long, interesting adventure. And I finally crossed that finish line. There were 30,000 people participating in that race, and it was quite an amazing sight.


I suppose I will start at the beginning.


It had been a very difficult week prior to D.C. My grandmother fell very ill and passed away last Wednesday. Needless to say, it was a week filled with very complex emotions. While I could write about this event for days, I'll leave it as it is.

My stomach started to fight me, I was eating less than half of my usual, which was stressful since you're supposed to provide your body with tons of fuel in the week before the marathon. Besides that, all went according to plan in regard to transportation to D.C. We spent all day Saturday at the Rally to Restore Sanity, which was awesome. But it also meant being exclusively on my feet for 6 hours or so.

On the morning of the race, I made a last minute decision to ditch the tutu in favor of comfort over ridiculousness during the long race. With my stomach still in knots, I could barely choke down half of a granola bar. We arrived at the starting line a bit late, but that was much better than arriving early and having to wait around while the nerves take over. We stopped at a port-a-potty just before starting, where I discovered that the green apple energy goo that I stuck into the elastic of my hot pink shorts had leaked. So that was a sticky situation. Jamie and I had our picture taken at the starting line and then we were off.

The first part of the race was absolutely beautiful, weaving through roads that were framed by the colors of fall. Jamie and I started out the race together, at a pretty comfortable pace. We truly lucked out on the weather, it never got hotter than 60 degrees and the sun was shining the entire way. There were so many people in that race, with so many amazing stories. One lady had a shirt that said "I lost 170 pounds to run 26.2 miles." There were many people in wheelchairs. And countless shirts that said things like "I'm running in memory of my wife" and "I'm running for my favorite Marine, Daddy." With all of this around me, I never once struggled to find inspiration to do my best. After about 7 or 8 miles, I started to get discouraged over the fact that I hadn't seen anyone in mine or Jamie's familes cheering. I figured there were too many people and that we'd never spot each other. I started running with my head down. And next thing I knew, Jamie and my Mom were high fiving while my Mom shrieked in excitement! I half-hugged my Mom and looked around for my Dad, who was just a short distance down the path, holding a sign that said "Run Rachie Run!" Although I missed my brother, a small glimpse of some loved ones was just what the doctor ordered. In all, I got to see them and one of Jamie's moms, Pat, 4 times thanks to their strategic planning. In fact, my Dad and brother Matt ran alongside me for the beginning of mile 20, which was easily one of the hardest parts of the race for me. My Dad spoke some motivating words and my brother smiled and cheered. And my Mom ran up the final hill with me, both of us in tears just before the finish line, despite numerous Marines asking her to exit the course. The kind of boost that I felt from those moments is beyond words.

Jamie and I split up exactly halfway through, he was on a roll and we knew it was unfair for either of us to expect the other to maintain our own personal paces. We took this on together, and helped each other during training, so running the last 13.1 miles of the race together was not necessary. The atmosphere of the whole event was all we needed. We did see each other at a point where the course loops, and we cheered each other on. Again, another point where I needed to hear some words of encouragement from someone I love. The timing for moments like that throughout the marathon was absolutely perfect.

There was a point when I thought to myself "****! Why did I ever think I should do this?!" But then I remembered how hard I have worked and how far I have come. And I thought of my family who has been by my side for it all. And there was just no way I was going to have to explain why I quit running. So I ran. Sometimes there were people walking faster than I was running, but I was still hopping from foot to foot, maintaining the running stance.

I crossed the finish line in an all-out sprint. After 5 hours and 34 minutes. It was quite a wild ride, and I wouldn't change a second of it.

So, on my list of life goals, I am proud to say I can put a checkmark next to "Run a marathon."

Sweet Emotions

I am the luckiest girl in the world because my parents and brother Matt will be making the trip to D.C. to cheer during the race. My parents came to Boulder to cheer me on during the Bolder Boulder, and I was very bummed when I finished the race without spotting them, despite the crimped hair, hot pink socks and red and white polka dot apron that I was rocking. So in order to avoid this mix up, I need to make myself even more visible. I mean, my family is traveling across the country just to watch me sweat and stumble through 26.2 miles. And I have a feeling that the most uplifting sight to a runner during a marathon is the sight of loved ones cheering them on. So, I made a tutu. Oh yeah, baby. A luscious, neon green and hot pink tutu. I will be rocking that mamba-jamba all 26.2 miles of the Marine Corps Marathon. Because, what I really think those Marines need is to see a sassy little lady in running shoes and a tutu with an unmistakable look of don't-tread-on-me-determination. Plus, I cannot deny a secret desire to catch President Obama's eye and maybe a nice photo op.

So, tutu = beacon for family + impressing the military men and women + luring the President. I'd say it's a complete package.

I'm sure Jamie is just peeing his pants thinking about running a marathon along side his Marine brothers, family, and froo-froo girlfriend dressed like a friggin' glow-in-the-dark muppet.

I'll definitely keep you posted on the exact moment that his eyes well up with tears from the gushing pride when he sees me on race day.

I have one more long run scheduled before the marathon. This Wednesday I will run two miles for my long run. Two miles?!

I must admit that I have reached the expected time of reflection. Yes, I am beginning to feel like a big emotional ball of goo. These past four months have been a very wild ride, to say the least. And now I am just over one week away from race day. And I can hardly believe it.

What's strange for me is that although I have reached all of these high points during training, when I look back on say, the 20 mile run, it seems surreal. Like I didn't actually run that. It's like having a memory that you think might have been real but it could have just been a memory from a dream.

I'm ready. Time is dragging. October 31st seems farther away than it has since I began training. What's that? Crazy talk, you say? Walk a day in my shoes, toots. (I didn't initially mean that literally, though it kind of works.) Then you'll really know crazy.

Feets Don't Fail Me Now!

This is the post that I am 100% sure you have definitely not been waiting for.

But I have to do it.

In the name of all things holy, and Lord knows this blog has been blessed by his own hands, I have to write the following. (Not for the faint of heart)

Due to an outrageous amount of miles run this summer, my body has changed in a few ways. That is to be expected, I do believe. However, there has been one change that is exciting in a completely different way.

My feet. I'm pretty sure they are the ugliest feet in tarnation.

I'd even go so far as to say grotesque.

I have blisters and calluses. In fact, there is one spot on my left foot that is now covered with three blisters, one on top of the other. I know, I didn't think that sort of thing was possible either. But it is. Oh it is.

But the blisters and calluses are not alone. No sir. They are accompanied by some seriously screwy toes. I have already lost two toenails, and during the 20 miler, I lost two others. Now, I don't know many of you have lost toenails. I'll estimate 5,000 out of 635,400,000 readers of this blog have lost at lease one. So I'd like to shed some light on this allusive and frightening experience.

What causes this spirial towards annihilation is that your toes repeatedly hit the same spot in your shoe countless times throughout multiple short runs or one long run. This is due either too ill-fitting shoes, downhill running, or just the violent (yes, I would say violent) repetitious toe-slamming that happens within a shoe during activity. One day, you take off your socks and things just don't look familiar. You see a toe, maybe it's the ring toe, or perhaps the pointer toe, and it's a little blue-ish. And it's a little sensitive. And you look closer and realize that it's also a little swollen. Essentially, what you have now is a sort of blood-blister under your toenail. Sounds awesome, right? It gets better.

Now, this baby will remain in this condition for an undetermined amont of time. A week. A month. Who knows? You're at the mercy of the toe. For me, the first toenail that went down this slow path of destruction was kind of intriguing....I didn't quite know what was happening, but I knew it was an injury that really only runners encounter, so that was exciting. I felt like a real runner. But what happens next is less than intriguing, it's actually completely gross. So brace yourself.

You reach a point where this sorry excuse for a toenail starts to drive you mad. This thing is taking over your life. You worry that it's going to fall off at some very inconvenient time (because let's face it, there's no better way to ruin someone's day than by having one of your toenails falls off right in front of them):

• When you're in a business meetin'
• When you're having a picnic
• When you're ordering a mojito on a patio
• When you're snuggled in bed
• When you're sharing a milkshake
• When you're showing off some dance moves

Finally, if you're like me, you decide to take matters into your own hands. And you spend days trying to work up the courage for what needs to be done. Do you remember pulling out your first tooth as a little kid? Because that tooth just dangles there, and it's no good for nothin'. It's gotta go. You give it a little yank and "pop!" you're gappy-toothed. Same idea, different body part. And while the "popping" isn't painful, it is still traumatic. Because you start to feel a little separation anxiety. That toe is missing it's partner in crime. It's missing it's Robin. It's Ernie. It's Clyde. And it just plum looks weird. I mean, a nail-less toe? That's just wrong.

But time goes on, and after the shock wears off, you start to notice a new life sprouting into that toe. And you realize how delicate the circle of life really is.

So that has been the cycle of my sad, sad feet. As of now, I have lost two and two others are one their way out. Yes, it is a massacre. But do not pity me. Because I am proud of my Frankenstein Feet. All it means is that these tootsies have seen some miles.

Wish I could be a pea pod.

A friend of mine (Renoodle) recently asked me what I was going to be for Halloween. I replied "I'm going to be running a marathon, that's what I'll be."


At this point, she proceeded to make suggestions of what I should be while running the marathon. Her ideas were to wear an afro wig, dress as an M&M, or a pea pod. While all of these sound like perfectly wonderful Halloween costumes, particularly if you're six, I'm not quite sure I can actually consider wearing them. You see, running 26.2 miles in a big red felt M&M just doesn't really seem plausible for me at this time.


But it got me thinking...what are some costumes that people actually do wear during a marathon?


Allow me to rock your world:

Boulder to Logan Lane

Yesterday was the day that I have been dreading since beginning training. The 20 miler.


Jamie and I joined forces again for this last really big run. We ran from 55th, right by the Boulder Res, to my parent's house in north Longmont. We accidently deviated from the original course slightly and ended up running 19 miles. Still pretty good, I would say.


We both felt great after...laughing and talking with the Costanza's (my funny nickname for my Mom and Dad, which is kind of bittersweet because I guess that makes me George). And we were starving! So we headed on over to one of my favorite places to dine in the 'Mont; the Red Zone. This brings me to the point of this post, the most confusing things about running long runs.


First of all, as I previously mentioned, our stomaches were screaming at us! And you'd think that after running for four hours and not eating for about eight hours, that a little burger and fries would hardly be enough (and some southwestern egg rolls). But it feels as though your body sort of rejects such hearty foods because it's in panic mode. You just pushed your body to it's absolute limit and it is trying to straighten itself out. So while your mind is getting really pumped up about this plate of food in front of you, your stomach is quickly sending the signals that it is not prepared to be engourged. And let me tell you, folks, this is bit of a bummer. Eating an obnoxious meal after a long run is the best way to celebrate what you just accomplished, but it's no fun when more than half of it gets packed up in a to-go box.


After you've just attemped and failed to stuff your face, you start to feel a wittle sleepy...


But you're freezing! Sweatshirt, walrus pants, down comforter, and socks all team up to try to help your body maintain a healthy temperature. But it cannot be done. For the next couple of days, body temperature fluctuates like a roller coaster.


So you're snuggled now. And you turn off the light and close your eyes, so happy that now you can sleep. But surprise! You body slaps you in the face with another dose of cold, cold reality. There is way too much happening inside of you for your old bag-of-bones to let you sleep! So now you toss and turn all night, feeling the soreness settle into your joints and muscles. It's kind of like waking up when you're still drunk, and you have the great pleasure of feeling the hangover gradually hit you as the morning creeps by. Never fun.


24 hours post-run, Jamie and I are both feeling ill. Flu symptoms, perhaps.


The fact of the matter is that the body goes into shock in multiple ways. So virtually every calorie that you consume post-run goes towards repairing the damage that you just incurred on every inch of your being. And because your body is working so hard in this department, your immune system is weakened.


How ironic that after pushing your body to perform at it's best and strongest, you feel the worst and weakest.


But it's all okay because that was one of the best long runs of all. Aside from the sick-ish feeling, my muscles and other parts don't feel as beat up as they used to after long runs. So that's tremendous progress.

This run was further proof of just how far we've come this summer. And that's a feeling that just can't be described.

Animals are like, totally awesome, man.

Today, I'd like to declare my love for BBC.

I've been renting these nature shows from Netflix. The last one I watched was "Nature's Most Amazing Events: Disk 1." And wow. Really interesting stuff goin' on in nature.

I find it quite inspiring, really. Go ahead, make fun of me. But I'm telling you, people, animals do some amazing things that make us humans look like total sissies. Take polar bears, for example. They go four months without food, and still manage to survive in some of the world's harshest conditions. And there are numerous species of birds who travel 600 miles when they migrate. They just fly, fly, fly.

So these are things I was thinking about this morning, on my 12 mile run. I was thinking about how hungry I was because I hadn't eaten since dinner last night, and I just had a piece of bread for breakfast. But that's only like 10 hours without food. If I were a polar bear, I'd be so screwed! Also, I only had to travel 12 miles, and for fun, not even for survival. So if I were a bird, I'd also be completely effed.

I'm striving to take a hint from Motha' Nature and just toughen up. I don't have to hunt for my dinner every week. Swimming in ice cold water is not a part of my daily commute. I never have to hold my breath for 15 minutes while I search for the nearest hole in a massive ice chunk that is considered a continent. And pulling up a body full of blubber (I'm lookin' at you, walruses) onto that ice chunk to soak up some sun is not a typical activity in which I partake. And I almost never have to flap my wings for four months straight just to get a little warm weather.


(Not Me)

So running every once in awhile really ain't no thang.

All I'm trying to say is, good thing I'm a human 'cause it'd be real rough to be a wild animal.

Two Pizza Guys and a pair of Walrus pants

Today was full of realizations.

First, a very serious realization as I watched a documentary before the run called "Restepo." It is about some army guys stationed in the same region of Afghanistan that Jamie was stationed in a few years before as a Marine. There were many thoughts racing through my head as I absorbed this movie, but in an attempt to keep this posting light and upbeat (and hilarious as always), I will just say that I intend to give every single Marine a HUGE high five as I run the marathon. And I'd really like to give a large number of hugs too, because those are pretty much life's jelly beans. 'Cause that's the least I can do.

Second, a not so serious realization that I have a video camera on my new ipod, E.T.! No big deal. Naturally, I decided to bust this baby out a couple times on my run since I was solo. And let me say, this was the best decision I ever made. Please, behold the artistry:





A big shout out to E.T. for his crystal clear picture and sound. Really didn't miss a beat. Such glorious detail.

Third, energy gels are really gross but oh-so-magical. They're too sweet and too salty but once that viscous goo hits your tongue, something in you screams "wooooooooop-ah!" Now, I've only just begun to dabble in the goo-pool, but I'm finding that results are typically quite good after consumption. They give you the energy you need without taking up room in your stomach. I was actually pondering the complexity of said gels when I came to my fourth and most ridiculous, but not final, realization...

I lost my car key. Somewhere between Peppermint Lane (there was going to be a whole series of videos in which I name the place where I am running based on some stupid and meaningless observation. It was gunna be great.) and goo number three, my key slipped right out of my water-bottle-hand-purse. This was difficult to face because I was actually really enjoying this run, for the first time in weeks, and I still had at least five to seven miles to go. It was rainy and chilly, and the road was muddy and very quiet. I chose a route between Boulder and Longmont on dirt roads where it's relatively flat. And the plan was to stop at my car twice during the run to adjust clothing as necessary for the weather and to fill up my water bottle and goo supply. So, for the first time ever, I carried my key with me and enabled the security system on the Flying-Tomato (i.e. I manually locked all the doors and rolled up the windows, also manually). So I decided to retrace my steps in hopes of running across the key. Of course, conditions were perfect for a teeney little key to get run over by a car and squished right into the mud. I was facing west, growing painfully aware of imminent darkness, and therefore, increased invisibility of the key and also of me. I didn't bring a light with me or any reflective gear and my jacket is a lovely but useless shade of eggplant. My cell phone was in my car. Now I begin running through my options :

1. Miraculously find the key and run back to Flying Tomato with no harm done
2. Pull over some rando and hope that they will allow me to use a phone
3. Knock on a rando's front door and remove muddy shoes before asking for a phone
4. Run back to the car and break the window with my bare knuckles

I chose option 2. And I chose the car carefully, being ever-so aware of my vunerability. A car with a pizza delivery sign on top (not sure which pizza place) was driving towards me and I thought "boo-yah!" I waved my hands and pizza guy #1 pulled over and allowed me to use his iphone or gnome or giga-pet or whatever it was. And I dialed Jamie's number (I'm freakishly good with memorizing numbers) because he has my spare key and I had emailed my route to him before I left, so that if something happened, he'd have helpful information. He didn't answer so I left a message describing the remainder of my route and where my car was parked. And I continued to run, now being motivated by a very familiar feeling; fear of the dark.

I finally reached the road on which I was parked, frantically looking for Jamie's car. Nothing. And I begin to reassess my situation. I'm out of water, got a belly full of goo and nothing else, and hardly any clothes on. I could knock on doors and ask for a ride, but I'm a relatively small woman in a remote part of town and though the chances are slim that something terrible would actually happen, I wasn't sure I wanted to risk it. Needless to say, I was beginning to panic a bit. But I kept telling myself to keep cool because everything's going to be fine. And low-and-behold, I see the headlights of the Silver Shredder (Jamie's civic), lighting my path to safety.

The last realization was quite simple really. The universe was sending me a message. And I got it loud and clear because in the face of danger, you often have no choice but to leave your fate in the hands of unseen forces. So I did what I knew I had to do when I got home. I called the first pizza place that came into mind and I ordered a large veggie supreme. With garlic breadsticks. After a night like that, what a girl really needs is to snuggle into her favorite walrus p.j. pants that she's literally had since she was 12, and her favorite Shorty's sweatswirt and stuff her face with pizza while participating in night three or four of a Godfather Movie Marathon.