My problem with writing this recap is beginning it. I have no idea how to begin, or where. I’ll start by saying this:
I am SO happy I got to spend the weekend of September 28 with my family. My nephew Harrison is 21 months old and he is just the best. The sweetest, funniest, brightest baby who repeated “Go Dori Go!” all weekend long. Spending time with him alone was worth every minute of this race.
The Days Before The Race
Andy and I flew out to Seattle on Thursday. On Friday, we all drove the 90 minutes to Bellingham, where we rented a cute house in the Fairhaven area. We spent Saturday apple-picking, visiting the big Saturday market, picking up my bib and shirt at the expo, and relaxing.
The night before the race I couldn’t sleep. According to my Jawbone app (Jawbone UP review), I got 3 non-consecutive hours. It was a rough night. I’m usually great at traveling west when it comes to sleep. I pass out early and wake up on East Coast time – which would be perfect for an early race start. But this weekend – I guess it was race stress? – I struggled with sleep both nights leading up to marathon day.
Even worse was the neck injury (that I mentioned in a post the day before the race) that came back that week. There were a few contributing reasons – a different computer setup and carrying a heavy laptop back and forth that week, anxiety, who knows – but 100% of my stress was about my neck. A few days before the race it hurt on my entire 5 mile run. The day before, it killed me on my 3 mile shakeout run (which happened to be on the marathon course and I had no idea).
My neck would be the THING, I was sure, that prevented me from achieving my goal of finishing in under 4:00.
Spoiler alert: My neck did not hurt once the ENTIRE race, and I also did not achieve my goal.
On race morning, Coach Abby texted me to assure me that my lack of sleep was not a big deal. That helped me feel better. Over the last few days, Abby was instrumental in helping me resolve my neck pain, giving me VERY specific Theracane work to do (that thing is a lifesaver, by the way). I could not have asked for a better, smarter, more responsive coach.
Once I was ready (aka completed the slathering of my toes with Vaseline while singing “She Don’t Use Jelly”), Andy and I got in our rental car and drove about 30 minutes to the race start at Lummi Nation School.
We said goodbye and I went in to the school gym, where everyone running the marathon got to wait before the start. There was free coffee and hot water. I decided to leave my throwaway hoodie in the car, so I sipped on hot water to warm up. I waited on the bathroom line and after, I climbed onto a bleacher when the Lummi Nation students began a cultural performance.
As I looked across the gym I spotted a woman in a Oiselle singlet. I was SO happy – I felt pretty alone in the gym, with plenty of time to kill. I’m not the kind of person who can just strike up a conversation with anyone. But someone in a Oiselle singlet like mine? That I could do! One of the reasons I joined the Oiselle Volée team was so I could find a community of runners wherever I was. Instant connection. And here it was, really happening.
I smiled and waved to her, and after she waved back I got up and walked over to her side of the bleachers. I learned her name is Erin and she’s part of the Oiselle Flock. She’s also a lot faster than me (she’s running Boston this spring!) so after spending the rest of the pre-race time chatting with her we split up before the start.
I joined the 4:00 pace team. According to the pre-race announcements, there were fewer than 500 of us running the marathon! I’d never been part of such a small marathon before, and it was pretty awesome being in a small start area without corrals. It felt more relaxed, more intimate – we were all starting this thing at the same time.
The Race: Miles 1-13
Once we got going, my group settled into a nice groove. Because I had someone else in charge of pacing, I didn’t feel compelled to look at my watch all the time. I felt freer and enjoyed those early miles more because of it.
The pace leader was chatting with everyone, and I know she was trying to be nice – but I do regret engaging in any conversation and using energy in that way. I just don’t want to seem like an asshole. But I need to get over that. I didn’t talk much, just answered some of her questions, but then another woamn tried talking to me too. I did NOT want to talk! After the second mile I decided I wouldn’t speak anymore, even if I came across like a dick.
I should mention that the scenery here was straight up FOG. I knew there was water to our right, and I could tell that it was probably gorgeous – but I also couldn’t really see it. And I couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of me. It didn’t negatively impact anything, but, I don’t know. I didn’t love it. I would have liked to see more.
There were a few spectators at times, which surprised our pacer. She hadn’t run a marathon before and had no idea people came out to watch them!
At mile 5 I ate my first Honey Stinger Chew. My general fueling plan was as follows: Starting around mile 5, eat one chew every two miles. Walk through every water station taking water and/or Hammer HEED drink.
After about 6 miles we weren’t on the water anymore, and there were no more spectacular views hiding behind the fog as we ran along a road. I still couldn’t see much around me, but I could tell it was a very bare part of the course. Andy and I planned to see each other at 9.5 based on what a race official told us at the expo, who had pointed to a big map and told Andy to park at the casino. But I realized around that time that the course did not go past that casino. I figured Andy would have realized it by then but I didn’t know if he’d find his way to the course to spectate and I made peace with the fact that I might not see him until 19.5 when he and my family would be waiting for me in a park.
But at mile 11, on the side of an empty road, I spotted a familiar silhouette emerge from the fog. Andy found me!
Not long after this, we finally turned and headed in a different direction. I was always either right next to the 4:00 pacer or a little behind her, listening to the conversations of people around me. And also to one girl’s phone that spoke her pace and time ALOUD every five minutes. Think about that for a second.
I honestly went into this race not knowing if I would reach my goal. It never felt like a sure thing, but it always seemed like a possibility. There were moments in the first part of this race where I went back and forth – “I don’t feel like I’ll do it today, why am I doing this, I never want to run a marathon again. I’m done” and “I think I might do it!!!”
I never felt OMG AMAZING, but I also didn’t feel bad. Nothing hurt. Nothing was too hard. But it also wasn’t too easy. I just had to hang on.
And even this early on, I thought “Why do I do this? This is not fun. Why do I think it is? I am never running a marathon again.”
Around mile 12, one woman complimented another’s butterfly tattoo, which transformed her entire back in gorgeous shades of purple. I listened to their conversations about that tattoo and other tattoos, which was a nice distraction that took up a few minutes. And then we came to a turn onto a long road where we would do an out-and-back before getting back onto the road we were originally on.
At the end of this out-and-back road, race officials recorded our bib numbers to make sure no one skipped the out-and-back. I liked that precaution. When we got back to the main road, the new pacer joined us and we all crossed over the first timing mat of the day, halfway point, at 2:00:58.
Right on track!
The Race: Miles 13-20
I felt good, running side-by-side with both pacers and listening to them discuss the day so far and their strategies. While they chatted, I felt a strange sensation on my left hand. I held it up in front of me and my entire pinky finger was swollen! I twisted my rings on my ring finger and they moved easily, so that finger wasn’t affected. But my pinky was HUGE, and really, my entire hand felt funny. It was like a radiating dull ache. Has this ever happened to anyone?
Anyway, at mile 14, the original pacer left and the new pacer was a machine! She runs 50- and 100-miler races, she ate a huge meal before her pacing started, and she was on top of calling out upcoming hills and strategies for the group. For example, she recommended running slightly ahead of her before water stations so we didn’t have to rush to catch up after. She also encouraged us to get back with her after hills separated us.
Speaking of the hills.
The motherfucking hills.
I don’t know when – I think around mile 15? – I realized that this course was very, very uphill. While there were rolling hills up until then, those were totally doable hills. Nothing crazy. And when I chose this race, it’s because they advertised it as a relatively un-hilly course given that it’s in the Pacific Northwest. I read about some “gentle inclines” and about how the only really bad hill was at the end, around mile 24.
That was not the case.
Those “gentle inclines?” Looked like this.
Lots of up without enough down to redeem it. I have no memory of that long downhill after the peak, I guess it because it was more gradual. But, look at all that up!
Anyway, not that there’s anything wrong with a hilly course. But, I wasn’t prepared for it here. I did long runs on hills, I did hill workouts, but I am already borderline able to run a sub-4 marathon. It could probably go either way on a flat course. I never would have chosen this race as my goal race if I realized just how intense the hills were.
And that’s what did me in.
Before I go on, let me say that this race was extremely well organized. The water station volunteers were helpful, cheerful, fun, supportive and motivating. So many volunteers cheered for us by pace group, and they seemed so genuinely impressed, even I felt like I was doing a really special thing! It’s easy to forget that in all the low parts.
Ben, the race director, had reached out to me personally a number of times in the months leading up to this race. He was always warm, helpful, welcoming and accommodating. This was a truly impressive event and I would recommend it to anyone, with the caveat that it is hilly!
The marathon was perfectly executed by the Ben and the staff – but this race was not the right course for me at this time.
At each hill, I would lose the pacer, and then I’d try my hardest to catch up with her again after. It got to the point where we’d come upon yet ANOTHER hill and I’d just look up and say, “Fuck.”
Yes, I broke my “no speaking” rule for “fuck.”
It just never ended. We’d get to the top of one hill, the road would flatten and there would be no down, and then there would be ANOTHER HILL. Always another hill.
My right hip flexor had started hurting sometime during the early teen miles. I didn’t think much of it because I tore my labrum there in 2010 and while it doesn’t usually bother me when I run, it’s also not that surprising. But then my left hip flexor started hurting too – and that was new.
The pain wasn’t too bad, but keeping my pace became a lot tougher. I’d lose the pacer, catch up with her. Lose her, fight really fucking hard to catch up with her.
At mile 17 we merged with the half marathon. I had looked forward to this, thinking having a bunch of new runners alongside us would give me new energy. But the opposite happened.
These half marathoners, just four miles in to their own race, were feeling GOOD. They were chatting. They were running fast. They were confused about the 4:00 pace sign because they didn’t know there was a marathon! They were having all these conversations and I had to listen to them, while feeling like I was giving everything and had no energy for their, well, energy.
It was a lot more crowded too, and harder to find my pacer.
And when I ate my Honey Stinger Chew (which I had stopped being excited for at mile 15, when I was due to finish my first of two bags of chews – a milestone I had been looking forward to), I had a hard time. It was not in any way appealing, and it took me a long time to chew it. I must have felt a little nauseous because it took everything I had to get it down, and I knew there would be no more chews after that.
Right about this time, I started to accept that my sub-4 likely wouldn’t happen. I was having such a hard time catching back up to the pacer after each hill, and I knew the real killer hill was at the end. I also knew that final hill spanned multiple miles. Even with that extra end-of-the-race motivation, I just wouldn’t have enough time to catch back up with her after that final hill. And there was no way I could have stuck with her on it. Out of the question.
But, a PR is a PR (current PR: 4:11) and being close to 4:00 means I COULD do 4:00 on a better course/a better day. So, I kept pushing to stick with her for as long as I could, hoping I’d find some miracle adrenaline once I got closer to the finish.
I can’t remember exactly when, but two different people at two different times cheered for my by calling out “Go Oiselle!” – I don’t know who they were, and I didn’t feel great when I encountered each, but I liked that bit of more personal cheering on. Another reason I’m so happy to be on this team.
Eventually, we wound up in a park. “I’m seeing my family in a park,” I thought. Then I looked out and there they were! I had no idea what mile we were at but it must have been 19.5. Because there were Andy, my brother Matthew, my sister in law Mallory, my nephew Harrison and their dog Santana all cheering me on! Harrison said “Go Dori Go!” which he had been practicing all weekend.
I was so happy that he got to see me running and understand what was happening (the last time he saw me run he had no clue). He had been waiting for me to come by! I gave the pup a quick high-five and went on my way.
I was right next to the 4:00 pacer when I saw them (you can see the edge of her pace sign in the photo below), and I knew they’d think I was right on track.
But I knew I wasn’t.
A minute later, we crossed the next timing mat, at 19.6 miles, at 3:01:56. Still right on pace.
This time I thought of Coach Abby getting the text messages with my updates, thinking I was doing a great job and expecting a 3:59 finish.
By the way, this is why I didn’t tell anyone about the tracking. It’s one thing having my coach and family knowing what is going on, but I didn’t want it to be a “thing” that everyone knows. I wanted to cross these timing mats without the pressure of wondering what people are thinking, and I wanted to announce my own finish time – whether or not I hit my goal. I wanted to own this story.
That said, I feel very touched that my group-text friends Ellen, Miranda and Danielle took it upon themselves to find the tracking. I didn’t know until after (thank G-d), but it was nice to know they cared that much.
The Race: Miles 20-26
Anyway, almost as soon as we crossed that mat, I started to lose the pacer up a hill. The last thing I heard her say was “There’s less than an hour of running left!” As she got farther and farther away, I knew that was it.
I wasn’t catching up to her this time. And I didn’t care.
I was doing my best but I couldn’t run any faster. In fact, I started going slower. And actually, I started feeling pain. And it was bad.
At EXACTLY the same time, both hip flexors started killing me. Sharp, intense, agonizing, did I say sharp? That’s what the pain was. I was around mile 21, and suddenly I couldn’t run. I had to walk.
I’d try to run, and cry out in pain each time I started up. The starting was the worst part because the pain was just so sharp. The running would become too hard, and I’d walk, to only a little relief. And then I’d try to run again, cry out in pain, and shuffle along until I had to walk again.
At this point, I wondered if I should quit the race. Not because I didn’t think I could finish, but because the pain was so intense I was worried I would cause a serious injury by continuing. I worried about fucking my body up for X amount of time and being out of commission for Refine Method and running AGAIN due to injury.
Should I stop and ask a spectator to borrow their phone to call Andy? I wouldn’t see my family again until right before the finish line and I didn’t have my phone on me. I could borrow a phone and have Andy come pick me up. I was in the middle of these thoughts when somehow, randomly, unplanned, at around mile 22 – I saw Andy up ahead!
WHAT ARE THE CHANCES?! He had no idea he was even walking near the race course, and the fact that I HAPPENED to be coming by at that exact second? And, if I was still running at marathon pace, I wouldn’t have. I would have been long gone!
Andy had his phone out, taking my photo, when I went right up to him, stopped, and said “I’m not good.” I told him about my hip pain, told him my goal was shot, and asked him if I should stop right there with him or if I should push through and finish.
He told me to finish.
Who am I kidding? I would have anyway.
We said goodbye and I headed off to one of the prettiest parts of the course. It was a real trail (meaning not concrete), along the waterfront, surrounded by trees, Unfortunately, I couldn’t appreciate it at all because of the pain. I was just on trying to run, then walking, then trying to run. I was focused on the pain.
Usually, in a marathon, I break the remaining miles up in my head into manageable sections. For example, “6 miles until 20 – that’s just my usual 4 miler and then 2 miles. 2 miles is easy! And then I’ll only have the last 6 to go!” At no point during this race did I play these games. I was too focused on getting up the hills, on sticking with the pacer. I didn’t have room in my brain for my usual brain tricks. I also think I knew things didn’t feel right before I knew that I knew things didn’t feel right.
After that pretty part of the course, we were suddenly in a spot I recognized. I ran my shakeout run there the day before! I had no idea it was part of the course, and it is a great running path – the South Bay Trail over Boulevard Park. I wished I could enjoy it more. I wished I felt as good as I did there the day before (even with my neck pain).
And that was another thing – my neck is ALWAYS the first thing to go when I start getting tired, but it didn’t hurt at all during this marathon. Even though it hurt the entire 3 miles the day before, especially bad on the uphills. But on marathon day, it was all about my hips – which never bothered me while training. Not once.
This part was really rough. I was on a beautiful waterfront path and I felt like death. I was walking, then I was shuffling. I was crying out in pain. I wasn’t even disappointed about my goal and my time because the pain overtook everything else. I didn’t care about my time. Could I have shuffled a little longer during the times I walked? Maybe, but why bother? I was in pain and I just wanted the pain to go away. Not that it even was.
These race photos were taken at around mile 23-24, during the worst part of my race. I managed to break into my shuffle for the photographer and even smile. You can’t tell, but I was crying out in pain right before and right after these shots were taken.
The beautiful bridge – which I ran on the day before and somehow didn’t recognize from the race photos I’d looked at – is stunning. And I didn’t care. Now, all I could think was “OMG I HAVE TO GO UP THAT STEEP RAMP TO GET OFF THIS.”
I walked up that ramp. I was not the only one. It took a really long time. It was brutal.
From there, we ran uphill on a road adjacent to the water. Well, other people ran. I continued my walk/cry/shuffle/repeat. A girl came up behind me and said something encouraging, and as I turned to look at her I recognized her from the 4:00 pace group! “Gave up on sub-4 too?” I asked. “Oh, this is my first marathon,” she said. “I didn’t know what I’d run so I decided to just stick with them to start and see what happens.” She sounded like she felt good, and she took off.
And still, the course went up.
The pacer had said that it went up in the last few miles, but then it also went down. Spoiler alert: It did not go down.
Mile 25 was straight uphill, the entire time. Imagine looking ahead and seeing a long stretch of road going straight up and up and up, and as far as you can see, there is no top.
That was mile 25.
I did my best here, finding solace in the fact that had my hips cooperated, there is no way I would have stuck with the pacer during all this. It was just too much. I didn’t train for hills like this. This course was just so much more challenging than I realized.
Sometime during mile 25, another girl came up to me and said “Stick with it, sister!” Or something like that. I looked next to me and it was the butterfly tattoo girl! ANOTHER person from my pace group who, despite all my walking, was still behind me.
I asked her what happened to her, and she said she lost the team at around mile 13 and her goal went from “sub-4″ to “survive.” But she seemed good! She had more energy than I did, and she became my anchor. I told her how happy I was to see her, and we picked it up as we neared the finish.
Someone told me there would be a false finish – you know, you hear the music, turn toward the finish, but then have to make another turn to go all around it before actually going to the finish line. Because of that I didn’t get too excited when I first saw the finish line – but that was wrong! We WERE heading toward the finish!
The girl (I looked her up and her name is Rachael – hi Rachael and THANK YOU!!!) changed everything for me. Her support and motivation enabled me to pick it up, and the two of us – two displaced sub-4 group members – found one final adrenaline push and crossed the finish side-by-side, looking strong.
She rescued me.
If not for her, I would have shuffled/walked through the end of that race, feeling defeated. I might have been in tears. But having her there with me, someone else in the same situation, it buoyed me.
Of course, seeing my family standing alongside the finish line cheering as I approached was a huge help too, and I am glad they didn’t have to see me at my worst. Thanks to Rachael.
I finished in 4:20:49.
After The Race
I am so glad Andy encouraged me to finish. As bad as those last miles were, I barely remember them now. I do, however, remember the finish line. I remember being SO HAPPY I made it that far, and feeling so grateful to Rachael.
And it’s not even my slowest time, so that’s something!
But of course, there was disappointment, which didn’t really hit until a couple weeks later. I felt frustrated by the course, my own lack of research, my trust in a description designed to make the race sound great (as it should!). I wished I chose an easier race and I also don’t wish that, because my time in Washington with my family was so unbelievably perfect.
And now, you know, I have to deal with my hips. Which luckily seems to just be constricted fascia (which means blood isn’t flowing well to the spot) and not a real injury. Caused by overuse, not being used to running marathon pace on so many hills. This was not my course, and it was not my day.
Splits – FYI, a 9:10 pace would have had me finish at 3:59
1 – 9:21.1
2 – 9:14.2
3 – 9:04.9
4 – 8:55.6
5 – 9:16.8
6 – 9:09.4
7 – 9:10.6
8 – 9:11.5
9 – 9:19.0
10 – 9:09.8
11 – 9:06.2
12 – 9:07.5
13 – 9:12.7
14 – 9:07.0
15 – 9:13.7
16 – 9:07.1
17 – 9:07.9
18 – 9:08.0
19 – 9:12.6
20 – 9:22.9
21 – 9:38.6
22 – 12:39
23 – 11:56
24 – 12:09
25 – 13:38
26 – 13:29
.37 – 10:08 pace
That paints a pretty clear picture of my day. And this is the data my trackers got:
Thank you to everyone who tweeted me during/after the race, offered support, simply cared.
And Coach Abby – I cannot say enough to thank you. You gave me guidance and advice, made me feel better about silly things I stressed about and see the significance of things I should had no clue about. You revised my plan when I couldn’t make it work with my new job. You made me see my ability and training in a much more logical, intelligent way. You were a coach and a therapist and a physical therapist and a friend. My failure to meet my goal had nothing at all to do with her coaching – I was better trained than I had ever been in my life. I recommend her to anyone who wants a highly personalized plan from a thoughtful, brilliant, talented, supportive, knowledgable coach.
As for what’s next for me?
I’ve been back to two Refine classes – and they were amazing. I love it there so much, and I am really happy to be doing exercises that are not running. I’m ready to feel strong again, and get in better overall shape. (When I wasn’t working I was able to train for the marathon and take Refine, but once I started my job in August I had to let Refine go while training).
I had signed up for a 10K on October 25 to try and PR, but I’d rather save my hips and keep taking it easy so I can be strong for the NYC Marathon on November 2. Which leads me to the next big thing – and I am SO EXCITED!!
NYCM. I’m not racing it. This is for fun, to enjoy an experience I didn’t get to the last time I ran across the Verrazano Bridge. I raised over $4,200 for American Cancer Society in memory of my Aunt Dale, and this event is so meaningful.
I don’t know what my next marathon will be, but all the thoughts of “NEVER AGAIN” have been forgotten. Of course. There is ALWAYS an again for me when it comes to the marathon. At least there will be until I reach this goal, which I KNOW I can do.
I can quit the marathon after that. Maybe.