Will Power and Pain Tolerance: Cape Cod Marathon

            “I did it!”

            That was the first thing that popped into my head as I crossed the finish line of my first marathon.  I had just run 26.2 miles and lived to tell about it.  My time?  Well, that’s sort of secondary at this point to the overall accomplishment.  I look back to March of 2011, at who I was, at how I felt about myself, and cannot believe what I just did today.  Back then?  Sure, I went to the gym, a lot, usually 5 days a week.  Still, the results never came, I was around 185 lbs and that held steady.  My cardio?  45 minutes on an elliptical machine, maybe some stair climbing.  I had resigned myself to the fact that I was going to look that way forever, and probably get worse as I inched closer toward 40.

            Flash forward to October 28, 2012 and I have just finished my first marathon.  As I write this my legs are elevated, calves firmly planted on a heating pad gratefully supplied by my good friend Deanna.  I have ice packs on both knees and have more pains than I have ice and heat to be honest.  Saying all of that, I would do it all again if I knew this would be the result.  This day was a life changer.  It was validation.  It was proof to myself that hard work pays off.  If you set your mind to it nothing is impossible.  There is nothing I feel I cannot do.

            I trained literally by the book for my first marathon.  I had all of my gear setup the night before. I carbo loaded, I electrolyte loaded.  I was pretty much as prepared as I could be.  Still, sometimes it is only a momentary lapse of judgment that can make all the difference, and it did. 

            I started slowly, knowing it was a ‘marathon, not a sprint.’  I felt as though I was running exactly the way I wanted to.  Sometimes during races you can get caught up in the adrenaline, or get caught up in others running faster and naturally wanting to keep pace.  I did not succumb to any of that, I kept telling myself that it was just me and the road. 

Coming up on Mile 12, the beginning of 12 miles of hills that are a part of the Cape Cod Marathon, I felt my right shoe come untied.  Only thinking of retying it I stopped and bent down.  That is when I felt a pain like someone had ‘unzipped’ my left hamstring.  Oh yeah, I screamed and cursed, partially at the pain, partially at my own carelessness, and also at the fact that I still had 14 miles to go.  I knew that I only had moments to decide my next course of action so I stood up and started to gingerly walk.  I walked a few hundred feet and it felt like the hamstring had loosened back up.  I resumed running but paid close attention to that injury.

            I probably zoned out and didn’t realize that I was compensating for that hamstring which is only natural.  Then a familiar foe made its return: calf cramps.  These usually hit when I am dehydrated but I had made a point to stop at every water station.  Doesn’t matter how they happened, the fact is it was a bad set of cramps feeling like I had snakes crawling under my skin.  To make matters worse these first began to occur at Mile 15, I had 11 more to go.  

           Calf cramps had ended my day at the Smuttynose Brewery Half Marathon in New Hampshire in January.  They had also occurred during the Hyannis Half but only in the last few hundred yards so I was able to sort of hop to the finish.  This was 11 miles I was going to have to navigate with a pulled hamstring and two cramped calves.

            Finishing time took a back seat to finishing at all.  I walked for a while and then tried to run.  The cramps came back and I found myself using my water bottle to roll out the muscles, or at times jam the plastic carrying ring into the cramps.  This would allow me to run a few hundred more feet before the process had to be repeated.  I managed to make it to Mile 18 using this arduous method of pain relief. 

            At this point I realized that it was going to come down to will power and pain tolerance.  I was desperate to finish and achieve my goal.  Thus began experimenting with ways of running to avoid the pain in my hamstring and calves.  I tried running on my heels first.  One trip down a good-sized hill and I felt the pain in the IT Bands on both knees and decided that was not going to work.  I began walking up the hills and then running down them using the widest stride possible to get there quicker.  This succeeded somewhat but also caused pain in my feet and knees.

            When it seemed like I had no hope of finishing I got a shot of motivation.  My friend Emily was running her first marathon also and she sent me a text telling me she had just finished.  I was almost to Mile 20 and she was done.  We had agreed almost a year earlier to run our first marathons together.  She had worked so hard and done so well that the least I could do was gut it out and cross that finish line.  I told her I was hurting but would not quit.  That meant dealing with some pretty intense pain.  As she had done all through my running life Emily encouraged me.  The weather was cool and the clouds rolled in with wind and mist ahead of Hurricane Sandy.      

            I was coming up on Mile 23 close to Nobska Lighthouse when my phone went off; it was my mother.  I had thought she would not be able to make it for the race but she texted me that she was just ahead at Mile 24.  Despite the incredible pain rushing through my legs I gathered myself and managed to run faster than I had all race to make sure she did not have to wait for me much longer.

            I turned a corner and there she was.  I waved and smiled like I was in a parade, doing my best to mask my pain.  She told me she was so proud, and also told me not to stop since I only had 2 miles to go.  After that I was so close that there was no chance I would not make it to the finish line.

            In the home stretch I forced a smile for the cameras and passed Emily and her mother who had stepped out into the cool mist to cheer me on.  I crossed the finish line and immediately looked for a spot to collapse.  I lay face down in the grass knowing that I had just given absolutely everything I had.  Normally I’d be less than thrilled with my time but knowing the pain my legs had been in for about half of the 26.2 miles I was satisfied. 

            After only 18 months I had gone from never running to completing a marathon, injured at that.  I had done it.  I could barely walk on the way back to the car, and I will probably not be able to run for a few weeks, but I’d do it all again knowing this.  Once I had crossed that finish line I knew that nothing would be the same for me.  It was not just running a marathon, it was what it meant for me personally.  Never again will I think I cannot do something, all I have to do is look at my medal, bib number, and shirt.  I will remember that through the pain I did something that few people have the will or desire to do.  I will remember that and I will know I can accomplish anything I set my mind to.  I will remember that I did it.  I am a marathon runner.  

The starting line of the Cape Cod Marathon.

About 15 miles in, looking like I am killing it, but calf cramps had just set in.

Approaching the finish line, celebrating my survival.

Anytime I feel I can't do something all I'll have to do is look at this photo.