Anyway, if I do this right, you'll be all up in your feels by the time you get to the finish line. Kinda like I was. So grab a cup of coffee or a cup of tea, whatever floats your boat, and get comfy. I don't know how long this is going to take me, but I want to tell the whole story.
I think I'm going to do this blog thing monthly rather than weekly. I feel like I can pack more useful information into a single post, plus it takes too much time to write something worth reading every week. I would like to start adding in my meal prep recipes and workouts, along with the fun theme and song.
Also, I'm totally welcome to feedback. So if there is something you would like to know or would like me to cover, please feel free to email me. It's allisoncassatta@gmail.com. If you want to chat about weight loss, exercise, triathlons, and fabulously stupid things like marathon running, I'm game. I pretty much stay attached to my email so I promise you'll get a response.
Now for the fun stuff...
I will absolutely be the first person to say your race day experience is what your training makes it. If you slack off on your long runs, you'll pay for it come game day. If you don't log the miles, expect it to hurt. I'll also be the first to admit when I "dog it" as my friend Mike McCord would say. I totally dogged it this time around. I went out of 2019 marathon training, straight into Half Ironman training, straight into 2020 marathon training.
The burnout was real and abundant. I didn't get quite enough long runs in. One twenty miler instead of the two on most training Whatever, I did one and maintained better than a 12:35 pace. I was going to be okay. But then my hip would hurt after thirty minutes on the treadmill and I would swear I was doomed. So I had concerns. Big concerns. I told myself I wouldn't finish, while telling myself a 5:30 finish was totally doable. Insanity. I know. I had this conversation with myself. <insert a winky face here>
Mentally, I was a mess.
I practiced control with my pacing, ran the whole 3.1 miles with no walking and negative splits. Felt awesome coming across the finish. No pain. Stretched. Walked it off. Sat down for a bit. Boom. My hip started hurting... @#%$!!!
We went to dinner at this AMAZING little cafe called The Root. Took a Lyft there and walked back. Which was hella smart, because walking it off eased the pain. I woke up the next morning with zero aches, and in a pretty damn good place mentally.
While I was trying not to be all up in my head about my race, my poor friend Cheryl was all up in hers about her first Half Marathon. For those who don't know, that's thirteen-point-one miles, and a pretty daunting prospect if you've never done it before. She had concerns too. Big ones. I did my best to give her a good pep talk, promised she would be okay and she would finish. She was more than ready. It's sometimes easier to tell other people the things you should be telling yourself. We can be our own worst enemies.
She finished right around her goal time, said she felt pretty good the entire race, and isn't put off by the idea of doing another one. Go Cheryl!
Running... It can be a little addictive.
So here goes the big part. The part about extraordinary people doing super hard shit despite their challenges. It started from the moment I lined up in my coral and didn't stop until I crossed the finish line. Remember... what doesn't kill you makes you strong.
I found my pacer, and older gentleman with a welcoming smile and a big personality. He was eager to chat with everyone, and meet everyone who would be running (or attempting to run) this race with him. We had two first-timers and I was honestly excited about that. It can be pretty fun helping someone through their first 26.2. He proceeds to tell us that there may be cameras and news following him. He was doing his 512th full marathon... WITH STAGE FOUR PROSTATE CANCER! Whatttttt....????
I stood there, staring at this man who looked perfectly healthy, and I couldn't speak. Like. Maybe people do this all the time. Like you read stories on the internet of people who overcome massive adversity to conquer insane goals, but how often do you get to spend five and a half hours chatting with them and soaking up all that strength? Well, I didn't get that much time either because I couldn't keep up with him. I lost him around mile fifteen. He honestly made it look easy, like he wasn't struggling for a second. Wow. Just wow.
So I was holding a really good and steady pace for a while. At least half the race. I stayed about two minutes ahead of my pace band, like I wanted to. Fuel was on point. Stomach was good. Weather cooperated. Hip did too... until around mile nine.
The pain was sharp. Like a Charlie horse right in the glute or under the hip bone, or over, or in the front of my thigh. It felt like it was everywhere, to be honest. All over my right hip. I hissed and walked for a bit. Then tried to run for a bit. My brain went straight into surrender mode. Like Allison, don't be an idiot, you can't do this. Of course, my heart knew walking it off helped last night and would surely god help today. My heart is the more stubborn of the two vital organs at least ninety percent of the time, and even that little soldier was ready to raise the white flag. My chin started to quiver. I was going to cry. Stupid. Soggy. Losery. Crying. UGH!!!
No. No crying. Walk it off. Walk it off. It didn't even take half a mile and I was back on my intervals (run three minutes, walk one minute.) Life was good again. I slowed my pace just to be careful, but finishing seemed possible again. Then around mile fourteen-ish, the pain came back. AGAIN. Maybe even a little more relentless than before.
I decided then if I had to, I would walk the rest of the race because I'd gone too many miles not to get that ridiculously huge, ridiculously sparkly medal. My stubbornness can be infuriating and it can be life saving. Life is about balance.
So this guy in a Navy 10NM shirt looks back to me and says, "you okay?"
I was like "yeah, I'm good" in my totally defeated voice. Then I asked him if he was okay because he seemed to be limping just a little bit. That question sparked a conversation, that lead to one of my favorite and most memorable race experiences ever.
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| BJ, Mike, and Me around Mile 22-23 BJ, Me, and Mike at the Finish |
Mike and I met another gentleman whose name I didn't get. He was seventy-two years old and running his 16th full marathon. Read that one more time. 72 years old. 16th full marathon. Extraordinary, right? I told him I wanted to be like him when I grow up. He was a cool guy, said Little Rock Parks and Recreation sponsors his running group and they run different parks each weekend. I feel like this dude was special and probably has a fun little tribe. He kept losing his stuff. Lost his phone. Mike somehow managed to bend over, pick it up, and stand upright again. Props to that. Mike gave the man his phone back, and he proceeded to tell us how he'd lost his water bottle full of pickle juice. For those that don't know, it helps with muscle cramps. Mike then gave him his last little bottle of pickle juice. We still had like ten miles to go...
Around mile 20-21, we met BJ. Now, BJ had passed us a while back and was running pretty solid, but he hit that wall that most first-timers hit where another 10k feels freaking impossible. Mike, again, asked "are you okay?" BJ shook his head.
We found out that the decision to do the marathon was a spur of the moment thing for BJ. Now, you might say what kind of fool just decides to do a marathon without training? Well, BJ had made a joke about it in front of the wrong little ears, and there we were. He said his son looked up at him and said "I think you can do it, daddy," and that was all he wrote. BJ was a man who ran three miles a day on a treadmill before work and was now doing a full marathon. What the what?!?!
Just for the record, he's living proof that it can be done, but it's not gonna be easy.
We rounded the corner after the giant uphill at mile 25, with less than a mile to go and a spectator yelling "make those boys move, Allison!" Sorry, that was cute. I giggled a little. I looked back at them and told them both it was all downhill from there. Beautiful thing, that downhill, because god knows there was plenty going up on that course.
We got closer to the finish and this little human comes running out "Daddy! Daddy!" It was BJ's son. Mike told the kid to come run with us, to get on the course. I joked that he could have Daddy's big, sparkly medal.
The kid grabbed his father's hand and we all started running. Fast. Too fast. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Okay, slow down, y'all. BJ's legs went straight and he came to a dead stop. We weren't even a tenth of a mile from the finish. Mike and I both said, "keep moving! Keep moving." If BJ had stopped then, he might not have crossed the finish line. I grabbed his hand and off we went again.
Mike got his huge medal to hang next to his wife's 2019 medal.
I got my medal and another #finishingmove (that's a whole story. Adrenaline got the best of me.)
BJ's son was right. His daddy could do it and the kiddo got to be there for the hardest part of it.
We all hugged, and I think we all got a little choked up. I met BJ's goofy friends and one of them hugged me and thanked me for sticking with him. I also met his wife and son.
At the end of the day, we were three strangers selflessly helping each other do something big and all for different reasons. None of this killed us and it definitely made us stronger. For me, it helped my soul (not sole.) My give-up was strong that day and those dudes totally pulled me out of my head. If they needed my help or not, I needed theirs, and that was completely okay. When asked what the most rewarding thing about being part of the running community is, I think the story of my 2020 Little Rock marathon sums it up perfectly.
