A Run to Remember
By: Erin E. Wood, Ph.D
My running friends started training for the 2020 Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon in January 2020. At this time I was a 4th year graduate student, deep in the weeds of my dissertation. I told my friends I would run with them on the weekends, but I would eventually need to start running shorter distances than the group when the time commitment became too great. But, somehow, I never did. By March, I was completing 18- and 20-mile runs. My friends looked at me and said "you're running in the marathon" and I knew they were right.
On March 4, 2020 I signed up for the OKC Marathon, but in less than 10 days, the world shut down due to COVID-19.
By the time April came around it was clear that we were going to need more than two weeks of sheltering in place. Like many races, the OKC Marathon delayed their official race to October hoping that things would go back to "normal" by then. However, come October when COVID had only gone from bad to worse we were given the opportunity to 1) run "virtually" in October 2) defer to 2021 3) defer to 2022.
Seeing that my friends and I had ran a self-supported marathon around Stillwater (lovingly called the coRUNa Virus Marathon) the weekend the OKC Marathon was originally scheduled, I was not keen on running that distance again. Realistically, I knew that deferring was the best option. I proceeded to opt for the 2022 race because I figured by that year COVID would be waning, I would no longer be living in Stillwater and this could be an excuse to come see my friends, and with two more years of training I would be able to run this marathon faster and stronger than my virtual run.
But, like many well thought out plans, that isn't what happened.
While I was running a lot when I lived in Stillwater, my running progress practically came to a standstill once I moved to San Antonio. I was too busy. It was too hot. Running just wasn't fun.
Flash forward to 2022. Thus far, Larin and I had signed up for the Mid South Double (March), Gravel Worlds Double (August), and the OKC Marathon (April). I had started training in by doing my long runs on the weekend, but I still wasn't able to find a way to motivate myself to run on the weekdays. I was constantly injuring myself due to overuse. By the time the Mid South 50k rolled around the farthest I had made it in my training runs was to mile 18 and was having consistent hip and knee pain anytime I ran further than five miles. In March, I ended up having to DNF the Mid South 50k at mile 16 because my hip hurt so bad. I vowed that I would use the month and a half between Mid South and OKC to train.
Once again, L I E S.
Come the Saturday before the run I was pacing back-and-forth in the hotel room. Both because I was nervous about the run, AND because we were in the middle of a tornado warning with the major storm cell only 2-miles away. Trying not to think about our impending doom, I was deciding if I should drop down to the half because I knew I could complete a half - even if I ended up walking all of it - but I didn't know whether I could complete a full. I didn't know if it was better to risk the medal and the finishers shirt (the only real reason an individual pays $150+ to run) to attempt to do something I wasn't prepared for, potentially injuring myself in the process, or if I should play it safe and drop down. As the rain came down and the tornado sirens howled we decided that I would start the run intending to do the marathon, but if I felt any pain or discomfort prior to the split that I would follow the half-marathon route and end my run at 13.1 instead of trudging through another 13.1 miles to make it to 26.2.
As we lined up in the corral on Sunday there was a buzz of nervous excitement. For many of us, this was one of our first "big races" since COVID-19. It felt so amazing, yet terrifying, to be surrounded by so many people. Larin and I found our friends Peter and Fernanda and got ready for the start. After a 168-second silence to honor those who were killed in the Oklahoma City Bombing in 1995, we were off!
Pre-run Jitters
Out of all the runs that I have participated in the OKC Marathon is by far my favorite. Because it is tied to the OKC Bombing, a great tragedy that shook this community to its core, thousands of community members come out to line the streets, host block parties, and cheer on runners. There are thousands of people on the side of the road cheering us on as we wind through the city. With each step, I feel my confidence growing.
Prior to the run Sunday, not only did I not know if I could finish the full 26.2 miles, but I also had no idea what my pace would be. To finish the OKC Marathon within the cutoff you had to run a 15:00 mile. While this would have been something that I would have had zero doubts about a year ago, it was something that I had great concerns about now. With over 1,500 feet of elevation gain on any given 10+ mile run in San Antonio my training runs were largely completed at a 15:30ish pace. I would often find myself walking up the hills and when checking social media and texting friends because I got bored. I had no idea how this training would translate into a relatively flat course when there are people all around to motivate me to keep going. Come Sunday, I was pleasantly surprised. For the first seven miles of the marathon, I felt great. My pace was averaging around 11:55 and my muscles felt loose.
I was going to do the damn thing.
First 7 Miles!
NOTE: This is a slideshow, please swipe to see more pictures!!
Now, one thing that all of my friends who have run the OKC Marathon (or really any marathon, for what it's worth) tried to warn me about was the stark difference in run-vibes at the split. In the first seven miles of the run when the marathon and half-marathon were together the run was a non-stop party. However, as soon as I ran through the arch and turned right to continue on the marathon route it was almost like I was transported into another world. Instead of running down the streets of Oklahoma City with crowds of onlookers cheering us on and loud music being pumped out across the road I was now running in almost complete and utter silence. If it had not been for Larin and Peter I would have been alone. All of the confidence and momentum I had built in the first seven miles of the race felt like they had dissolved instantaneously, I could almost literally feel the wind coming out of my sails.
I started to feel some discomfort in my calves at mile 10. I had to walk for the first time as we trekked north on Classen head-first into the wind. As we finished our time on Classen (well.... this section of Classen) the 5h45m pacers came up from behind us. They told us they were doing a run-for-two-minutes-walk-for-two-minutes routine and we decided to follow them. While I was able to powerwalk at their pace, if not a little faster than their pace, their running pace was still considerably faster than mine. After 4-5 miles of following the bright yellow pacer flags, they were gone.
While the pacers were no longer in sight we were still making good progress and we had "banked" time as Larin would call it. After a near disaster while trying to find a port-a-potty, we cruised into mile 20. We were now in Nichols Hills and I was easily distracted by houses larger than my apartment building. However, while I felt like I was now in a real-life HGTV episode, I could not help but realize that I was fading.
I had packed food and water in my hip pack, but I hadn't really been refueling since we split from the half-marathon and my tank was officially on "E." As Larin is doing the math to see how much time we had "banked" to make sure that we finished before the 7h cutoff, I started to panic that I was now going too slow to finish within the time frame (NOTE: the OKC Marathon says that the cut-off is after 6h30m. However, this cut-off starts after the last person crosses the start. So, while we started at 7:35, we had as much time to finish as the person who crossed the start line at 8:00). While I had been keeping a steady 11:55 pace for the first 7-10 miles, my pace was now turning into more of a walk than a run with many of my miles averaging somewhere in the high 15s or low 16s.
What if I did all this and missed the cutoff by only a few minutes? What if I didn't get my medal, the really only thing I cared about?
So, I did the only thing a logical person would do when they are depleted of calories and faced with potential disappointment. I cried.
And I cried.
And I cried some more.
Now, I didn't want to cry. I realized logically we still had time banked. While I might not finish within my designated 6h30m time I would finish within seven hours. However, my body was so exhausted that I couldn't help it. Fortunately, Larin and Peter were both power-walking in front of me so they didn't see the start of my crying, but when Larin turned around to check on me she witnessed a full five-alarm Erin meltdown-- the type of meltdown typically only reserved for my mom. Then, in my embarrassment, I then started to cry even harder. Larin then came back to me and we powerwalked and talked about our game-plan to make sure we finished and even received a pep-talk from a nice woman (I think her name was Gretchen, but I can't entirely remember). I then tried to get back to running, but at this point my run was more of a shuffle than a dedicated "run."
Realizing that the reason I was fading was because my tank was on "E" I was now stuffing my face with all the pretzels and Powerade provided by course support. Larin ran up ahead to tell Peter to run ahead and finish and that we would meet him and Fernanda at the finish. Calculating in her head, Larin said we needed to average around a 16:38 to finish within the "official" cut-off but that we needed to stay below an 18:00 to make it within the real cut-off. Realizing I was now able to powerwalk faster than I could run I decided to "strut my stuff" and powerwalk the rest of the way. Which, would have been fine, but do you realize how mortifying it is to be one of the only people out on the course and w a l k i n g down that last stretch of Classen? No thank you. Never again.
As we got off Classen near mile 24 and entered Mesta Park, I knew that we weren't going to make it by the official cut-off. I was now barely able to take a step without feeling like I was going to throw up (and I almost puked on a volunteer when she offered me a hot-dog). Then, in true comedic fashion, it started raining.
Hard.
Mesta Park in the Rain
Soaking wet, we were now in sight of the finish. Powerwalking through downtown the police and volunteers are still out, but no one else is around. With many of the runners finished many families had already gone home. I began to worry once again that I finished this run for nothing. What if I got to the finish and the "party" had all gone? What if I got to the end and they said my run wasn't good enough? What if I got to the finish and they said "sorry, your chip time is over 6h30m, try again next year"
Fortunately, these were all "what ifs" and not reality.
As we entered the finishers chute, we hear the announcer yelling the names of the few runners ahead of us on the loud speaker. But, as I hear the names of those who came before me ringing out, they are almost silenced by the somber realization that the hundreds of faces looking at me are not those of onlookers, but they are the pictures of the faces of the 168 victims of the 1995 bombing who I was running to remember. There are images of people who look like my parents, my friends, and my friends kids. Never to grow old, looking at me.
It is in this moment that I realize how selfish and self-centered I had been to have my goal for this race to be to finish just so I could receive a medal and a t-shirt -- something that I could probably get from a sports-store if I really wanted it. Instead, I was out here to honor these people. The people who could have so easily been me or someone I knew. The people who would never get the chance to run in the race made in their honor.
With the finish line only 0.2 miles away, Larin and I start to run, and, for the third time of the day, I was crying. However, this time it was not due to disappointment or embarrassment, but instead it was due to the intense pride I felt for myself for finishing the run. After practically no training, I had finished a marathon, and I had done so with one of my best friends by my side and with the faces of all the victims of the 1995 bombing looking down on me. While there were so many times in which I felt like I wanted to quit, I didn't. I finished. I was now a "real" marathon runner.
F I N I S H E D
So, all-in-all, here are my takeaways:
First, if you're going to sign up for a marathon you have to train for it. While I have certainly pivoted more towards cycling since my move to San Antonio, I definitely still feel confident in my ability to run a half-marathon without training. However, running 26.2 miles without training is a completely different game. I am fortunate that in total I ran the marathon in 6:30:00.34 of running time and 6:39:32 of total time (actually 10 minutes faster running time and almost 40 minutes faster elapsed time than when my friends and I did the self-supported marathon in 2020 when I actually trained!!!). However, I realize that this run could have been so much easier and so much more fun if I had done a bit more training. As I sit here, legs and back still sore, I realize that my recovery probably would've been faster, too. Going forward, I think I am going to prioritize shorter, more frequent runs over longer, once-a-week runs.
Second, don't forget to stretch and put on chafe-cream. Up until now, I have been fortunate that I have not had too much damage to my body without stretching. However, as I am recovering from this run, I am realizing that stretching now needs to become a consistent part of my running routine. If I had done a better job stretching before the run I most likely would not have had the calf-cramps so early on in the run, nor would they still be so tight five days post-race. In line with that, I also suggest chafe-cream. Fortunately while I did not stretch like I should have stretched like I should have prior to the run, I did put on chafe-cream. However, I missed a few spots. So, just to make sure we are on the same page about the potential areas in which an individual might experience chafing, I suggest putting chafe-cream in the following locations:
Between thighs
Arm pits
Where your shirt hits your arm
Where your hydration pack sits (this was a new one for me)
Under the band of your sports bra, if you wear one.
BETWEEN YOUR BUTT CHEEKS
Third, make sure that you are drinking plenty of water. Due to the Boston Marathon Bombing, many marathons do not allow the use of hydration vests on course as a safety precaution. If you're like me and a hydration-vest is your running comfort-blanket I would suggest trying to find an alternate hydration pack that you can see yourself drinking from during the race. For me, I wore an Osprey hip pack. However, this was the first time I had ever ran with it and I quickly found out that I wasn't drinking out of it as much as I should have been. In prep for future races, I will be looking at other options in which I can carry water on my person and not have it drive me crazy (I can't stand handhelds because they make me feel off balance, and most fanny packs are a firm "no"), but also have it to where I am more likely to drink water.
Lastly, find a friend to run with. Even if you don't say anything to each other the whole race, running with someone is a lot more enjoyable than running in solitude. For me, having someone to run with made all the difference. And, therefore I will end this post on this note:
Larin, I would not have been able to finish this marathon without you. I am so happy that I have you to run with when things are easy and walk with when things are hard-- both in marathons and in life. You are one of my best friends and I would be hard-pressed to find someone I'd rather have witness me hysterically crying at mile 20. Thank you for pushing me to greatness, but also allowing me grace when I fall short.
All photos in today’s blog were taken by Larin Davis and Erin Wood.
.jpg)
Comments