The number 401 has equal importance to Canada as it does to the USA. In fact, Wikipedia lists “Highway 401” before “401 K” in the “401 disambiguation” search (the real 401 being the year). One of my favourite Jeopardy moments was when a contestant’s final score was $401 and Alex Trebek commented about the Canadian highway.
Doomsday was today. Remember? Oi.
I had been avoiding blogging about the marathon 1) in fear that no one would care 2) out of embarrassment. I pulled another muscle (running friends: I KNOW!). E thinks it’s a natural reaction schemed by my body in defense of training. Some random part of my leg or foot that I’ve never hurt before will suddenly throw in the towel and go on strike.
But not this week or last week. 4 Sundays ago. I pulled my left hip adductor yet didn’t realize until a few days later (oh the stealth).
Anyway I was pretty sure one week ago that I wouldn’t be able to run. In fact, having to run 3-4 paces to catch a bus was painful. The pounding would go straight through my ground beef muscle and aggravate the tendon at my hip. I tossed around the idea of seeing a doctor, but found out that because my insurance termination with Blue Cross and my flight home are three days apart, I’m out of the whole “free health” deal. Awesome!
But I really wanted to run. And because of this desire, I fell into a deep depression. Sleepless nights, bad dreams, fear of gaining 60 pounds, the usual. H and I had both signed up and she was noticing major improvements in her training so she carried the excitement and enthusiasm for the both of us – right to the start line! Ground beef or no ground beef, I was running this thing!
Oh the pain.
I was on the road for a pretty decent 3h:50min finish until around mile 15 when I had to actually stop running and use the port-o-potty! A move I’ve never understood in races. Such a time waster. But I’d eaten something very, very wrong which rendered my pre-race Saturday a Pepto-Bismol night (running friends: I KNOW!). To add to the upset stomach/pronounced limp, I was thirsty. Like, homeless man leather-face parched.
Not once did I hear my Venga Bus. The live music was established at only 2-3 stages along the entire course and the bands were all wannabe Maroon Fives. Granted, it’s probably pretty difficult to set up a music station on the beach? At mile 25, there was a lone guitar warrior (who must’ve been over 60) blasting out a solemn, greatly embellished version of Hotel California. Motivational!
I was doing the required math and figured I’d be able to finish in under 4 hours but by the last mile, and in combination with Hotel California, it was just not happening. So I settled for a 4:01 which I am soooo proud of!
What kept my smile was the shocking number of doppelgangers. At mile 3 was an Ivy C-L who stayed in my vicinity throughout & finished just after me. There was a Colin B, a Rob W, an Angie F, a Michelle S. Too many Fabio F’s to count. An Ian R and an Ian W. They were all around me and I loved it! The short stint around the Cal State U of Long Beach was amazing: their uni has a giant blue pyramid!
Now, I’m in my jammies. It’s 5pm in California and Thanksgiving in Canada. I can’t move. My adductor at this point has transubstantiated from ground beef into tough week-old Genoa salami. I wanted so badly to go to the store with E to find this but after taking 2 minutes to get out of my chair, we both figured it’s best that I remain seated/blogging. Expect lots of blogging.
Oh! I can’t wait to get all my anguish-faced marathon photos emailed to me! That’s a fun blog to watch for.
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