By July I was eager to start marathon training for the fall, and played around with Chicago, TCM, and BBM. In the end BBM seemed most romantic - to sleep in my own bed, to train on the course, to feel more connected with the RD and the community - these, I knew, would complement the path and override the glares - the fact that there wouldn't be a bountiful group of like-paced racers, the demoralizing aspect of passing the finish at mi 22, the potential of a train crossing.
I did workouts on the back half, including a 12 mi simulation at MP with Ber & Maxx. Did long runs that ended at weddings where we danced into the night. The work was fun, I drank a lot of wine, and I recovered well...so I'd consider the experience damn near perfect, save for a bachelorette trip for one of my best friends and like 16 other women that instigated the most fertile of all myrtles/hyper periods with vomiting leading into BBM...still, it was a kickass summer of training, all female gore aside.
Saturday night LB came up from Seattle for a sleepover. Red ordered us pizzas stacked high in toppings, paired with wine. It was odd to be at home before a marathon, to harbor that race anxiety, and sit still. Thank god for sleep, because I felt useless.
In the morning, with oatmeal, nut butter & bananas in a bowl, and a big mug of coffee, dear LB comes out in a homemade t-shirt, cotton drawn in markered encouragement. We drove the dark drive to Lummi High, where we warmed up with friends and BDP teammates set to pace the first half of the marathon. I lucked out with the insane generosity of Maxx and David, who paced me (it would be David's first - he fell in love). After a warm-up all of us toed the line, a drone humming above the inflatable arch, and the gun sounded. For the first 10-13 miles a group of us led the race. The pace felt effortless, fueled by adrenaline. Maxx was incredibly in-tune, all it took was a look between us, and with a self-awareness that seems to be lacking in most people these days, he easily read the situation and made my experience much more efficient by grabbing hydration and anything else I needed. David was a metronome. I'd worried the slightest that he wouldn't know what it took to maintain pace for a distance he'd never run, but I was deeply mistaken. I have never felt more at matched speed with anyone I've ever trained or raced with.
A short while later our group dwindled, separating from the front and back. We stayed on pace through the middle miles. Perhaps the most difficult aspect of having chosen BBM, was knowing exactly where I was 100% of the time. Though a benefit to some, I think I do best with less information. Near mi 18 we popped out on Marine, and I got to see my mother and grandparents. The miles thereafter held surges on into Squalicum Creek Park, which brings you to mi 20, the mentally deceptive Roeder, and the course's more "major" climbs and finish line pass-by.
We whispered our OTQ intentions to the railway prior to the race, and though they can't release their schedule or alter their timeline, we felt good about their awareness and hoped it was enough of a wink to the Universe. Another surge, my last, along south bay, I put my head down and passed the tracks sans delay. The wind on the bridge leading to Taylor Dock's death march zapped what little spright I had left, and on the N. State rollers heading back to downtown I decided that I would enjoy the finish over dragging myself desperately towards that OTQ. I had been off the mark for a few miles, and when I let go and let be, I really let go of the pace. Weaving between 1/2 marathon finishers, my jaw jutting, and Maxx & Amber yelling at everyone equally exhausted to step aside, we made our way to the finish line, with Amber slapping my ass, and I yelling at her to lay off.
In the end I ran 2:46:35, over a minute off my PR from 2015, but a new course record for BBM by over 5 minutes (previously held by Kate Bradshaw in 2:51:45). I was 1st woman/4th overall.
Welcomed by my family, Red, teammates and friends, a much needed hug from Rad Bones, and an interview with the Herald's Michelle Nolan, who has been around since I was in high school, it wasn't long before I hit my limit. Crouching, color-drained, pallid and heaving above the farmer's market where I had sold hot dogs soaked in cheap beer for a good many years...I puked in all trash cans, all portos, and almost between my own legs, as I was gutted from the other end...Somehow I got on stage, blue-lipped, to receive an award, before asking if I could leave, because I literally couldn't even.
Back at home I went straight for the shower and laid down beneath the stream; LB gave my fingers a tug goodbye and left me to my stripped misery. It turns out I'm not good for taking pain meds as a preventative. That which I took before the marathon shut down my gut and I couldn't absorb any fuel during the race. Once I stopped running, a backlog of suppression erupted in a shit & puke geyser. It was pretty miserable for 24+ hours.
I was and am truly grateful to have had the opportunity to race in my hometown, on the streets I've trained on, every day, for years. To have gone to talks at Fairhaven Runners, who've I've been buying from since I was in high school cross country, to talk alongside friends, teammates, and the BBM RD about the race and my goal to qualify for the Olympic Trials, all the support that came out in various medias, all the cookies and muffins and homemade breads it took Nikki to make for my relentless hunger, all team runs and workouts, all the cooking Red did for me, because he's an incredible cook, and I have a 17 y/o boy's hunger, all the wine he provided (because we all know I drink more wine than water), all the 5-minute massages his poor man hands had to endure, but most of all, all the nights he gave me space to soak in my training and how often he had to hear, "Nah, not tonight, I'm too tired," when we're not even married yet. What I am most proud of, aside from the work it took, is that I balanced it with a full, full life, full in numerous bachelorettes, weddings, birthdays, including my own 3-part birthday bonanza, traveling, and planning a wedding. I am most proud of a life balanced in giving no fucks and giving all the fucks.
We whispered our OTQ intentions to the railway prior to the race, and though they can't release their schedule or alter their timeline, we felt good about their awareness and hoped it was enough of a wink to the Universe. Another surge, my last, along south bay, I put my head down and passed the tracks sans delay. The wind on the bridge leading to Taylor Dock's death march zapped what little spright I had left, and on the N. State rollers heading back to downtown I decided that I would enjoy the finish over dragging myself desperately towards that OTQ. I had been off the mark for a few miles, and when I let go and let be, I really let go of the pace. Weaving between 1/2 marathon finishers, my jaw jutting, and Maxx & Amber yelling at everyone equally exhausted to step aside, we made our way to the finish line, with Amber slapping my ass, and I yelling at her to lay off.
In the end I ran 2:46:35, over a minute off my PR from 2015, but a new course record for BBM by over 5 minutes (previously held by Kate Bradshaw in 2:51:45). I was 1st woman/4th overall.
Welcomed by my family, Red, teammates and friends, a much needed hug from Rad Bones, and an interview with the Herald's Michelle Nolan, who has been around since I was in high school, it wasn't long before I hit my limit. Crouching, color-drained, pallid and heaving above the farmer's market where I had sold hot dogs soaked in cheap beer for a good many years...I puked in all trash cans, all portos, and almost between my own legs, as I was gutted from the other end...Somehow I got on stage, blue-lipped, to receive an award, before asking if I could leave, because I literally couldn't even.
Back at home I went straight for the shower and laid down beneath the stream; LB gave my fingers a tug goodbye and left me to my stripped misery. It turns out I'm not good for taking pain meds as a preventative. That which I took before the marathon shut down my gut and I couldn't absorb any fuel during the race. Once I stopped running, a backlog of suppression erupted in a shit & puke geyser. It was pretty miserable for 24+ hours.
I was and am truly grateful to have had the opportunity to race in my hometown, on the streets I've trained on, every day, for years. To have gone to talks at Fairhaven Runners, who've I've been buying from since I was in high school cross country, to talk alongside friends, teammates, and the BBM RD about the race and my goal to qualify for the Olympic Trials, all the support that came out in various medias, all the cookies and muffins and homemade breads it took Nikki to make for my relentless hunger, all team runs and workouts, all the cooking Red did for me, because he's an incredible cook, and I have a 17 y/o boy's hunger, all the wine he provided (because we all know I drink more wine than water), all the 5-minute massages his poor man hands had to endure, but most of all, all the nights he gave me space to soak in my training and how often he had to hear, "Nah, not tonight, I'm too tired," when we're not even married yet. What I am most proud of, aside from the work it took, is that I balanced it with a full, full life, full in numerous bachelorettes, weddings, birthdays, including my own 3-part birthday bonanza, traveling, and planning a wedding. I am most proud of a life balanced in giving no fucks and giving all the fucks.
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