TWO CITIES MARATHON

November 3rd, 2024

Will She or Won't She...That is the Question?

November 2024 is shaping up to be a great month. The 20 weeks of marathon training is ending. Now it comes down to how well my body can run on a crispy autumn Sunday morning. What starts out as a crazy idea back on May 2nd to go for that blue "I Qualified for Boston" shirt advertised on the marathon page ends with pounding the pavement through Fresno and Clovis for 26.2 miles. Will I make it or will I fall short that is the question!

Woodard Park Loop

The two weeks leading up to marathon day is usually a nice little break with lots of tapering  on the schedule. The week before marathon day is a measly fifteen miles and also the time when little aches and pains are more readily felt. The five miler predictor run lets me know the range of my probable marathon time. In the past a 42:20 indicates a time well under four hours, but only if all goes well on race day.  It has been at least five years without a sub-four hour finish time. As an older runner, the body needs more rest and recovery and muscles strains flair up more often. My hamstrings and glutes are still areas of weakness and they constantly remind me and object with knotting jolts of pain when I push too hard. My body has become quite comfortable running ten minute miles and mid nines, but is less happy at miles in the eights. The outcome will come down to a battle of the mind and the body. 

The Humboldt Marathon in August had a Boston qualifying time for my age of 4:05 which I missed by about ninety seconds. In September the BAA announced new qualifying time standards for the 2026 race tightening the times by five minutes for most age categories.  My age group must now run 4:00 or less to qualify. In order to actually get into Boston, runners need a good buffer of at least five to ten minutes. The cutoff times are announced each year in September so many runners without a significant buffer must anxiously wait to see if they make the cut. At this point my goal is to chase after the 'blue qualified shirt!"  Anything under four will be a victory to me. Actually, just being able to run again is the true victory.

We drive up to Fresno the day before the race to get our bib, shirt and sweatshirt even though race day pick-up is allowed. I know my husband is going to make me get up super early to get a good parking spot on race day, but we still make the extra trip. Instead of going out to eat on the way home, we pick up a Traders take and bake pizza. It's the best pizza in town and we have enjoyed this family run establishment for over thirty five years. We have done a pretty good job of eating healthy the last seven months, but the carbs in pizza is worth the splurge for our pre-race meal. 

Pizza Carb loading

Amazingly, I am able to fall asleep without too much trouble and wake up at 3 am raring to go, but first I spend 45 minutes form rolling and using a tennis ball to work out some very sore spots. Breaking up that bad fascia that gets inflamed makes for a less painful run experience. 

3 a.m. is the perfect time to roll out the pain

We arrive at Clovis Community College an hour before the race and get a great parking spot which makes up for having to get up so early. We have time to get in line for two potty breaks before dropping off our bag with warm clothes and heading to the start line.  It is packed with runners as we weave our way through the crowd and find the 3:55 pacers. My plan is to keep the pacers in sight for as long as possible. The first mile is really slow as there is no room to maneuver around all the other people. A little warm-up mile never hurts unless you are trying to hit a time goal.  My pants keep sliding down and I spend a few miles continually pulling them up. After working up a sweat the need to hold onto my pants fades into a distant memory. Now the focus is running and staying near the pacers. The run down Sheppard is uneventful as I lock into a rhythm before turning onto Friant. The race used to start in Fresno and go to Clovis and then back to Fresno. Friant brings back memories of struggling through the final tough miles. Now they are the smooth sailing miles of the first half. The course deviates off from the half marathoners onto a trail section with views of the vista. It's a serene peaceful break from the thoroughfare before rejoining the herd on Friant Street. The full marathoners take another detour around Woodard Park before again rejoining the pack of half runners making their way back to Sheppard. There are people out cheering the runners on.

The Elusive 3:55 Pacers

My half marathon time is not as good as I hoped. If I continue at this pace, I doubt I can maintain the pace needed to break four hours. After the second GU pack of the day kicks in, I am able to increase my pace. The pacers are faintly visible as I stride little by little to catch up. 

Leapfrog partner

One lady in the crowd is very encouraging. I encounter her three more times in the last ten miles. She reminds me of a high school running coach giving each runner the words they need to hear. I can't remember the exact words, but her encouragement really resonates within me. She has no idea how her passionate words uplift and empower me in those lonely moments to keep fighting and pushing for my goal. I leapfrog with one tall runner, using his pace to pull me along. Once the full turns towards Clovis and the half marathoners turn toward the finish, the course becomes more about each individual runner fighting his or her own battle with the road; the mind has the plan but do the legs have the capacity to comply.

Downtown Clovis

The road to Clovis is an out and back with three tunnels along a bike path with a loop through downtown followed by another out and back around Cottonwood Park. I am able to keep the pace going through the downtown section. The real struggle hits on the way to the out and back to the park. The trail is very uneven broken pavement that requires intensified focus on my footing. My pace is slowing and my energy is zapped. My leapfrog friend is pulling away. It's time to pull out the magic pills in my pocket that I carry for dire situations. The Modesto pace coordinator, who is a pharmacist, told me many years ago to take acetaminophen with caffeine for a boost of energy when necessary. It is just an over the counter pain reliever, but is better tolerated by the liver and kidneys. I rarely use them, but I packed them for a just in case scenario and this seemed liked an appropriate time.  As soon as I approach the water table with some of the loudest students passing out water and cheering runners, I take two magic pills. As I make my way back to the the main trail I cross paths with my husband, I tell him I don't think I am going to make my time. He is looking strong and he tells me to keep going. It takes almost a mile to feel the increase in energy from the pain reliever as I make my way to mile 23. Back through the three tunnels more words of encouragement from the lady and finally I hit the mile 25 marker. Now, it comes down to pure grit. The energy burst in gone and it all comes down to how bad do I want it. I have to push, push, push and force myself to maintain the pace. You can slow down and coast in or you can push through the fatigue and fight until the final timing mat is crossed. 

Will there be a 3 as the first number on the finish line timer? There are two more turns. I am catching a lady who breaks into a walk until her friend comes back and encourages her to start running again.  I make the final turn and hear them announce my name. As I look at the clock the time reads 3:59:24. I barely make my time. I move to the side of the road and feel the urge to vomit momentarily, but it quickly passes as the reality sets in that I have accomplished the goal. Seven months of discipline has paid off...

Chip Time 3:58:49

We have a few of the breakfast items provided as we recover and listen to the band. We forgo the two free beers and the chocolate sundaes. Now that is progress...alcohol and sugar are no longer desirable rewards. The satisfaction of a healthier body and the ability to strive towards goals is the best kind of reward.   

Thankfully the country is also rewarded on November 5th will a return to common sense for the country. The darkness of the last four years is slowly coming to an end. The air feels lighter and spirits seem more hopeful for the future! Looking forward to better days and another run in April with the chance  improve my marathon time.

  

Humboldt Bay Marathon

Eureka, CA

August 11, 2024

Let the Fun Begin

This can't be how my story ends. After four and a half years, the stagnation rut and the absence of growth tug from within. Life is precious and meant to be lived why am I wasting time! Is a return to the road out of the realm of possibility. The craziness of our world causes profound turmoil and we each handle it in different ways. Isolation and disbelief is how life played out for a few years along with too many bad eating habits. 

First Marathon Start Line in 4 1/2 years

As another birthday passes and a new year begins, the idea of reclaiming life and fitness is the prevalent nagging theme continuously running through my mind. While the goal of walking twenty miles per week is accomplished in 2023, my overall healthy lifestyle is still lacking.  Too many unnecessary pounds crept their way onto my body.  A negative mindset generates a who cares attitude and nothing good comes from that...

Race begins and ends by the bay

To jump start the new year, an impulse registration in January for an early March half marathon seems like a good way to bounce back into a better fitness regime. Transitioning from walking to running isn't quite as easy as anticipated, however. The body needs more time to adjust to running after years with less activity and carrying extra weight makes it even more challenging. Little injuries and strains hamper the lead up to race day. The plan is to run-walk the half marathon, but as the miles pass, my old runner mentality emerges, and I start pushing the pace until pain radiates from my hamstring down into my calf. Immediately, I am forced to walk. The remaining miles are an extremely tough painful slog to the finish line. 

The Boardwalk section

That's not how anyone wants to begin a new fitness journey.  After resting and healing the remaining weeks of March a new idea swirls. It is going to take something different to get myself back on track this time around. The concept of 75 Hard seems too hard. After a discussion with my husband we decide to challenge ourselves to our own version of 30 Day Hard. It includes two workouts per day one outside, lot of water, no eating out, a strict diet and daily reading. If you mess up, the 30 days starts over.

30 Days isn't so Hard

Thankfully, we are successful and complete the challenge on our first attempt. Once we are done, there is a "Now What" feeling! As my recently retired husband sits on the porch on a random Tuesday, I approach him with "An idea!" It doesn't take long to convince him to come out of marathon retirement. With plenty of time on our hands why not go big.  The plan is to follow an actual 20 week marathon plan with a full scheduled for November 2024. The goal is to earn the "I qualified for Boston" shirt at Two Cities Marathon...

Sometimes you Go Big or Go Home

It is a rather lofty goal, but worth a shot. After two months of solid running we schedule a mid training tune-up run in Eureka. It is one of the coolest places to run in the summer with very mild temperatures. I sign up for the full and my husband signs up for the half. It is the best way to get in a forced long run with aid stations and other runners for motivation. The run goes fairly well. I run the first half with runner #2 and the 4:05 pacer. It is a double loop with two out and back sections in each half. It allows me to know exactly what comes next.  The second out and back section makes up approximately the last 8 miles of the first half. I don't want to run it alone and tuck in behind #2.

I attempt to pass a few times, but the guy in the lead counters every attempt with an increase in his pace. Upon our return back to the start line, he lets me pass just as the second loop begins. The 4:05 pacer is on my heels until we reach mile 22. After a short stop for water and Gu the pacer leaves me in the dust. The plan to stay with him for the remaining miles, evaporates as I watch him disappear along with my enthusiasm.  Waning energy and pace force me to finish the run alone. The last three miles are tough as my pace drastically dropping on the last mile. I finish is 4:06 while the 4:05 pacer finishes in 3:59. If only he had maintained the 9 to 9:20 pace he held for the first 22 miles I may have been able to stay with him. Overall, the run is a success. After briefly feeling some hamstring pain in the early miles, some gait adjustments allow for a successful training run. 

We visit with my husband's parents and aunt while we are in town before spending a few days in Oregon. A ride in a jet boat down the Rogue River is our reward for reaching the halfway point of our goal. 

After our vacation fun, it is time to buckle down for ten more weeks of running in preparation for Two Cities Marathon. Other than babysitting my grand kitties, I will be out pounding the pavement.

Double Trouble

 

 

"It is a republic...if you can keep it." America is worth saving Wake Up my fellow Americans!

 Today on September 5, 2021, a long and turbulent amount of time has passed through my grasp since writing my last blog post. So much has changed in the world. February 2020 was the completion of my 100th marathon and the beginning of the nightmare that has become our everyday new reality. After completing the goal of running 26.2 miles in all fifty states in June of 2019 and running my last marathon in February 2020 the need for a blog about "Running the 50 States" ended. I have spent the majority of my time, the last 19 months, lost in complete an utter horror. It is tragic to watch my country crumble in fear and witness the stupidity that follows as the world navigates their role in the demise of our once great land called America, formerly known as the United States. In the beginning of this so called "pandemic"...the narrative was "all in this together" and any dissenters were shamed into silence. Free thinkers dare not speak their minds for fear of losing friends and family. Now, we are losing our jobs for not complying; and we are losing our health and some people are even losing their lives for complying with vaccinations. Anyone that has the nerve to say something contrary to the media talking points was and is labeled selfish, ignorant and every other derogatory word to silence dangerous outliers from speaking.  If family and peers can not keep us in line, never fear, big tech is certainly able to quiet the questioners through censorship and canceling capabilities. When shame, fear, guilt, embarrassment, shunning does not work to silence those who dare speak up there are fact-checkers to discredit and limit dissenting voices.

I am not a writer or a great thinker, anyone who reads my blogs will clearly quickly discover I am just a rather ordinary person. However, this soon to be senior citizen now lives everyday in shock and horror that we are losing our country's founding basic rights and freedoms.  My amazement has intensified with the intensity of the lack of free thinkers that surround me. The most shocking and horrifying is the willingness of people to be so easily led. We have all let ourselves go, so to speak, into our individual vices to escape and when a crisis arises we don't know what to do. We retreat, we relent and we are led by the nose to believe and do whatever those in control command us to do. The media shares the messages in whatever form the masses acquire it and we peek out long enough to download the message (narrative, propaganda, programming) and we dutifully comply.

Today, I will not relent, I will continue to post endless memes and information on my Facebook page. I know for the most part I have long ago been deemed "a conspiracy theorist" " an uneducated wacko" "a gone off the deep end individual" and deleted, unfollowed, unfriended etc. Whatever label people want to attribute to me...I really do not care. What is going on in our world is so much bigger than any individual.  It is too important to not be complicit, so the posting like crazy will continue. My blog will return in an attempt to spread the message that we are losing our freedoms and our common sense. Those that want to read, think and consider can and those that don't can pass on by.

For today, I challenge anyone to research information and not just from Google as they do have incredible power and control over what comes up in the search engines. Don't just listen to mainstream media. There are many credible voices that have been canceled and silenced, but in spite of the vitriol continue to share information by any means possible. It is time for all Americans to stop being lazy and spoon fed and dig a little deeper into what is really going on in our world. Look into what is going on in Australia will we be next? It is time to question and critical think and decide what kind of realty you really want to live in...I know many are okay with how things are, but ask yourself how much more of your freedom are you willing to give up. How much will it take until it is too much for you too?  How many of your rights are you willing to have infringed until your line is crossed? Will it be too late? 

Unafraid to speak out against evil, freedom isn't free...we preserve it with action, action, action.

#100 Surf City Marathon Huntington Beach, California

February 2, 2020

My husband inadvertently pushes me into completing my 100th marathon distance. I ask him a few days into the new year what he thinks about signing up for the Surf City Marathon. He states, "I think it is too soon, we are not in shape and it may not be wise to run unprepared!" To me that sounds like a challenge...throw down that gauntlet. "What do you mean you don't think I can get ready to run a marathon in less than thirty days." It's the push needed to light a fire under my running shoes. After a few weeks of getting off my butt, regular running and one short long run it's time to get it done. Thankfully, we seize the opportunity who knew that 2020 would unravel into the disaster it did. All running events would cease and everything in America changed forever. The uncertainty remains...will the people of this country ever regain common sense or will they allow America to continue to deteriorate beyond repair?

The weather~the day before the race~does not disappoint! What better thing is there than spending an afternoon on the beach. Right after bib pickup inside the big white tent in the beach parking lot we land in the warm sand. The air inside the tent is rather warm with nearly a record high for the day. We quickly make our rounds through the expo...minus tasting the coveted chips and guacamole which requires a text and proof of a text to be granted a sample. No text...no chips. No thanks.

It turns into a glorious Saturday, the sun warms and strengthens us as we prepare to take on another 26.2 mile challenge. My husband elects to run the half because he is wiser and perfectly content with the idea of being able to walk after his race. I on the other hand, prefer to be completely spent and hobble after the run. It is not always sunny in California, but today is a true "California classic." We finish our day with a burger and tasty chicken sandwich at G Burger.

Sleep comes easy for me, a nice change. A quiet hotel and a comfy bed helps alleviate my normal insomnia.  My dream about a nicely wrapped present from my daughter ends abruptly as the alarm blares at 4:30 am just as it was about to reveal something very important. A false belief that the race begins at 6 am, we are out the door by 5 and parked at the high school with three other cars. Why aren't there any people on the buses yet? We get on the bus with four other people and the driver fires up the bus engine and takes (all six of us) to the start one mile away. The VIP bus ride is the fastest, easiest and most convenient marathon shuttle experience ever. As we make our way to the the host hotel lobby (beach side) it is empty. We find comfortable chairs and an empty bathroom. Where is everyone? At 5:45 a.m. I peek out and nobody is even in the corral. It turns out the race starts at 6:30 a.m. The hallway never fills up and a line never forms for the restroom. How much better can life get on a race morning! 

The weather is forecast to be cool and cloudy, perfect running conditions. I leave my husband in a comfy chair to wait out his 7:45  half marathon start time as I walk out the door straight into the corral at 6:15. It is my first marathon in seven months.

Once the race begins we charge down the Pacific Coast Highway for three miles before turning toward the only section of the race that veers away from the highway and the ocean trail. We are treated to volunteers, bands and people holding signs to cheer us along. The miles tick down as I approach mile six when my 100th marathon running odometer reaches 2600 miles. The remaining 20 miles will be the equivalent of running the last .2 of each of the hundred marathons.

What can go wrong! Great question, oh so many things, but for now it is a comfortable groove. The downhill at mile 5 is a thrill on the way out and turns into a climb at mile 8 as we make our way back toward the Pacific Coast Highway to run the remaining 16 miles. While the ocean is vaguely to the left, the focus is on the monotonous road that rises up to meet my striking running feet. With my phone in my pocket, music or a podcast is a possibility my attention; however, stays focused on the endless highway and reaching another turnaround point. I envy the runners who are already on their way back. Having done the race in 2012 I know what to expect.

There are no false illusions as I approach the finish line and deviate to turn yet another time and to a second out and back out for another 9.5 miles on the beach trail. The shared path is a concrete walkway for beach goers, bicyclists and surfers. I try and distract myself with ocean glances while dodging surfboards. My focus once again goes to reaching that final turnaround. My half marathon time is on pace for four hours, but I know the lack of training miles will slow my pace in the second half. My goal of being slightly over four hours slowly dwindles with seven miles to go when my left knee radiates pain with each step. I alter my stride and slow the pace, but nothing works. When I reach the beer and bacon station I have nothing to lose and guzzle down a beer to the delight of the guys. It is a fun group and a Godsend for disillusioned runners. I am ready and expecting the last miles to be a tough grind, but the knee pain is an added bonus. As I reach the final turnaround point of the day, there are over four miles of defeated running to go. A stop becomes (a necessary evil) to massage my calf and It-band and I end up walking for half a mile. I call my mom and husband...what else is there to do during my respite. In my struggle and push to continue I cross paths with another runner attempting to reach his last turnaround as he screams into his phone that he is done...he just can't go on anymore.

No matter what...I will get to the finish. Forgoing the beer on the return trip is followed by immediate regret.  The remaining miles are tough, but I inch my way back onto the highway and join the masses of half marathoners as we trudge along to the finish line. The rush of adrenaline at seeing the finish allows me to  pick up the pace for the final stretch. Cannot believe I have done this feat one hundred times. The pep in my step is definitely gone as I sit just outside the medical tent. They kindly give me ice and advice about my possible running retirement. Once I am reunited with my husband he walks just fine back to the bus while I hobble along in true sloth like form. No regrets...I am glad Surf City is proudly my 100th marathon. Maybe in time the pep will return and I will run again or maybe it won't.

Redo #State 23 Erwin, Tennessee

June 6th 2019

 Mockingbird Marathon

To be certified or not to be certified that is the question? Well of course we are going to be (officially certified) or certifiable as some may say. Yes, indeed we will not allow~a few tenths of a mile~to stop us from the goal. A misplaced marker at the Chattanooga Marathon in Tennessee will not be the reason the goal of running 26.2 miles in each state is classified as incomplete. Who wants to be considered an unofficial finisher. It just doesn't feel right! Thus it requires that we run another marathon in the state of Tennessee. A tireless search of various race calendars results in a potential double to redo Tennessee two days before our official 50th state in North Carolina. The race is a small one put on by a new race organization. We join the club and sign up for the race keeping our fingers crossed there will be enough participants to count as a certified marathon course. The worst case scenario, we try out a small multi-loop race with a few other enthusiastic racers and it doesn't count. Best case scenario, we try out a small multi-loop race with a few other enthusiastic racers and it counts.Twelve 2.2 mile loops on a scenic trail is where the battle to get certified takes place. A six a.m. start with an electronic wrist band to log in each hilly humid loop is the challenge for the day. The beginning of each new loop includes an incline and a tunnel just for fun.

 As the loops begin to add up, I become very familiar with every nuance of the course. The steep downward turn to the trail head on the outbound loop becomes a challenging climb and built-in walk break on the inbound loop. The moss covered bridge is a highlight as it symbolizes the nearness of the last quarter mile of another loop before reaching the park's parking lot. The location of the timer and the table where an array of snacks and beverages are placed ready to be consumed by any runner before beginning another out and back loop.

I must say loops are more enjoyable than envisioned. Seeing the same runners time after time struggling along with me is oddly reassuring and a source of strength as I witness others in the same struggle. My fellow runners are the only constant. We are the cheerleader and the rooting crowd of encouragement for one another. As the early starters finish, the trail becomes even more solitary allowing my inner thoughts to surface on the peaceful reflective path. A fellow lady runner keeps making strides to catch me in the last loop. I try to keep my pace as she gets closer and closer.  I desperately want to beat her, but she keeps getting stronger and stronger maintaining her pace as my pace drops.

 Not only am I racing her, but also the clock. My body has slowed considerably during the last few marathons and that sub five hour time is in jeopardy today if I don't hustle. I am too close to accomplishing the goal to give up now. My head goes down pushing myself to keep going, enjoying the assist from the downward gravitational pull from the slope through the tunnel one last time. I barely break the five hour mark, but it's a sweet finish knowing I pushed past my desire to slow down in order to accomplish a longtime goal.

The joy of completing a marathon never diminishes. I may be getting old, but crossing the finish line is exciting and exhilarating each and every time and that never gets old. Now, I can sit back relax in a lawn chair and enjoy everyone else's finish line feeling. My husband's finish is extra sweet too. He overcomes the heat and humidity to take second place. We sit awhile afterwards recovering with nothing but time on our hands sharing marathon stories with a fellow runner from Florida. Once a race is done there are no regrets, I am always happy to run the distance!

See that...CERTIFIED...not CERTIFIABLE 

Recap of New River Marathon State #50 Fleetwood, North Carolina

June 8th 2019

New River Marathon

No excuses, no prefacing, no self-deprecation...the time is now, the final state marathon (number 50) is here and it will be what it will be. It's also time to accept myself as I am. Time to embrace my flaws, imperfections, and mistakes. I must let go of the feeling of never measuring up to my own expectations. Always "the work" in progress status, but today I will run free and unencumbered by unrealistic whims of how I should be. I will run with respect and appreciation for the ability to run. I will run with gratitude...I am blessed my body can still carry me through such beautiful places.

With all the beauty to behold how can anyone run with anything but gratitude through nature's playground filled with a flowing river much of the way surrounded by fields and fields of Christmas tree farms on a mountainous course. Plenty of mud and monstrous hills are followed by miles of soaring winding downhills sections. 

 One thing we learn fairly early in the quest to run in all 50 states, you can't fight Mother Nature, prepare to accept whatever weather she hands out. We have run through snow in Pennsylvania, wind in New Jersey, extreme heat in Kentucky, but our running resume lacks a~state~run in the rain. CIM in 2012 was a crazy wet run, but not my official California marathon for the 50 states. North Carolina does not disappoint with rain, it blesses us with glorious downpours throughout the course. The harder and longer it rains, the more I smile and scream in delight. Tropical warm rain is the best kind! I can honestly say New River Marathon is my absolute favorite race~the course is stunning and the people are genuinely kind.

Hubby has bib #50 so why am I not holding it for pic?

In the final planning stages, I ask my husband if he wants to finish our last state in October 2019 with Hartford, Connecticut~the most popular one in that state~or power through with some smaller races and finish in June 2019. Of course he says, "Lets get it done!" As schedules and arrangements fall into place, I fail to consider the ramifications of running abundant marathons in rapid succession may have on the body, but soon find out. Once the plan is set, our bodies have no choice but to follow reluctantly along, we are dead-set on accomplishing the goal. Weariness and injuries be damned. We join the gym in January in hopes of cross-training to reduce our mileage, but that backfires real quick. I end up injuring my knees with lunges just in time for the Big Beach redo state in late January. Apparently, running knees don't like lunges in any form. Next, I pull a muscle in my back rib using too much weight for an abdominal exercise. The pull results in one of the most painful injuries to run through at Savin Rock, CT. Yes, it did take~just as my doctor stated...six weeks to heal! My advice...don't join a gym within six months of completing the fifty states. "Stick with running...wait until after the goal is accomplished to start something new," I tell myself in perfect hindsight. I rest and recover, but the downtime leads to some lackluster marathon 

efforts during the remaining states. I  make it to the final start line with my back and knees intact, but just barely. Good thing they can still carry me in spite of the increase in belly fat on extra jiggly legs. Okay sorry! I can't write a marathon blog without some self-deprecation. 

The weather does not cooperate for a drive up to Grandfather Mountain's suspension bridge. The fog and rain cancel our plan to walk on the bridge which normally provides panoramic views of the Blue Ridge Mountains nor does it allow us to float down the river as planned on our free day before the marathon. Not to despair we find things to do, but mainly we snack. Maniac and fellow 50 Stater, Patti, talks about eating at Cracker Barrel on many of her marathon state trips. This being our last chance, we give it a try...turns out my mom and grandmother's southern cooking is still the best, but now we can check it off the "must do" list. We definitely indulge during most of our travels and I am not sure if that is good or a bad. It's a bad thing! Luckily, or maybe not so lucky, a Krispy Kreme

right next door to Cracker Barrel becomes a must stop. All I can say is thank goodness we do not have Krispy Kreme at home. With the "hot and now" sign illuminating, donuts become a pre-race carbohydrate loading fuel source. It turns out cold chocolate glazed is better than the plain hot glazed donuts. My knees and legs prefer I forgo the donuts and the added weight they cause, but what can I say...donuts win today. Maybe~with my delusional thinking~the extra sugar will fuel the numerous hills still to come. The rain puts a damper on our activities, but not our spirit and enthusiasm to finish the last state. The only thing of concern is the constant rain and lightning. The marathon officials put out a rain or shine statement. A delay or cancellation will be determined by the emergency management team in the event of severe weather only. By race morning the pouring rain turns into a light drizzle as we make our way to the "woodshed" extra early to get our bib and shirts and park at the bottom of the hill in the grass as directed. With a flight home right after the race I express my concern about getting stuck in the mud to my husband and one of the volunteers hears me and they allow us to move the car closer to the exit. The kindness we encounter from every volunteer and every person involved with the marathon makes it such a special event. I even run into a fellow 50 state runner, in the potty line, who I met one year ago to the day at the Hatfield and McCoy Marathon. Hey, John fun chatting with you again...enjoy your next 22 states! 

Marathon Winner!

Once the race is underway, it begins with a climb as we make our way up the driveway to the main road. Initially, I feel fatigued with a heaviness in my chest. Thursday's redo state in Tennessee leaves me with a tired body. The first few miles are the roughest miles of the day, but the beauty of the course and the excitement of running and completing the last state snaps me out of the momentary lull. I stop thinking and immerse myself in the moment, the river, the greenness and the beauty all around me until the need to pee becomes my primary focus. I seize an open potty around mile 3 just before the rain makes an appearance. Glad I stopped when I did because pulling up wet running pants is no fun. In North Carolina, it seems, rain falls in buckets...forget about sprinkles, just bring on the downpour. As the rain persists, I find myself smiling from ear to ear. No longer an old lady...I am a seven year old running through puddles. It is funny and great all at the same time. The lady behind me laughs when I scream and cheer the rain as it sloshes in our shoes. I pull out the poncho in my pocket and try to put it on, but it is so hot and suffocating that it goes right back in my pocket. Now don't get me wrong my delight, would be an entirely different story full of despair with cold rain!

I catch up with my husband after my stop and we run together until we reach the first muddy climb. We walk awhile together, but I choose to start running again and my husband elects to wait for the downhill portion of the muddy rocky mess to run. I catch up to Caroline from Durham as the downhill flattens out; it is her first marathon since 2001. It is nice to share a few miles chatting and the conversation pushes me to run faster to keep up. Her family greets her at the turnaround in Todd, NC and I pull ahead for a few miles until she passes me as I walk the steepest hill. Most runner's are locked into their set paces and spread out on the course. I leap frog with Caroline and a dad and daughter duo. I elect to walk the massive hill between miles 13-15 and power down the downhill portion with ease hitting every tangent as the course winds down the mountain. I cut into the curves hopeful not to come face to face with a car as I sail through the blind corners. I thank the people working at the rainy aid stations, who are all encouraging and ever so helpful. The people and the rain make it a magical day!

Caroline, the dad and daughter duo, and I, run as a pack until we reach another spectator section where hugs and high fives are dispensed by their families. I run alone for a long stretch of time passing only a few struggling runners. The miles fly by (no mile countdown necessary today) as I relish every last second of heaven on earth...cherishing every last mile of my 50th state!

I even look forward to the upcoming hills between mile 23-25. Runners are diverted off the main road straight into a muddy trail section where I am still all alone until I pass one lady who is walking through the mud. It is hard to pick a running path, mud sticks to my shoes in the ruts, but the grass is uneven and unstable in the middle. Even with the challenges, I am loving every last moment of the day. I catch up to a young runner who lets out a sigh when he sees the next hill. I encourage him to keep going...  

We run together for the remainder of the race. He wants to win a bet made between his buddies. He bet them he can finish under 4:45 and he doesn't think he can make it. I tell him he can do it. We work to get up that last cruel steep hill together with .7 to go and fight our way to the final downhill slope to the finish line. I tell him to go for it as soon as he makes the final turn and he finishes strong crushing his bet time by five minutes. Pay up guys...I wonder what he won? I too enjoy the downhill  and power my way to the final timing mat. 

As I sit under the finisher's tent, enjoying the delicious cookies and strawberries, he comes over and gives me a hug and thanks me for pushing him in the last two miles; it the icing on my marathon cake. After taking a minute to breathe I make the trek back up to the car and change out of my wet clothes. Parked two feet from the finishers' shoot, I am unable to wrangle out of my soaked sport bra without giving tired runners a shocking sight! Dry clothes with the exception of the bra with have to suffice. I walk back down in time to take a photo as my husband finishes and quickly check the results. Lo and behold, I win second in my age group. A nice lady comes up to me and offers to get my award so I can avoid the mud. She hands me a Christmas tree craved out of a tree stump. I shriek with glee...I had my eye on that prize, but wasn't sure it was possible. The race director, Ken, comes over and thanks us for choosing The New River as our 50th marathon. He and his team are so gracious and welcoming and honored we selected their race. The honor is entirely ours, we could not have asked for anything better. I get a picture with one of the guys who is out there all day directing cars and runners and helping push stuck cars out of the mud. You can't find a better example of the American spirit (kind, caring, genuine) than the people of Fleetwood, North Carolina. It restores my faith in humanity.

The drive to the airport is like our second marathon of the day. There isn't a second to spare. My husband changes in the car while I order some Chick Fil A. I am forced to speed all the way to the airport and we run (the 14 minute walk time) to the gate, boarding the plane just in the nick of time. United changed the flight time~two hours earlier than my original booking. I shouldn't have accepted the schedule change; in hindsight, but we really want to get home the same day! Thanks to every passenger who allowed us to cut in front of them in the security line...we make it home to sleep in our very own bed. We agreed to assume the persona of "Tigger and Pooh," the night before the race and no matter what happened~race cancellations, delays, missed flights, fatigue~there will be no negativity! We embrace the day with unbridled happiness and joy and it makes our last run "magical." Sometimes life is a fairy tale.

I am not sure if Kitty believes in fairy tales...she just doesn't care as long as the 50 states business is done and the focus is back on her comfort.