The Suffolk Marathon kicked my ass in ways I could not have imagined nor had experienced in past NYCs. Sadly, I did not have the race-day experience I wanted. It was never a question of IF I could complete it. It was not about the training the months beforehand - I put in the work. It wasn't about having the mental grit - I was determined.
How it started?
Sunshine, crisp autumn temperatures, ideal early start-time, nature and water views. Tom and I were ready to go in our matching Milltown shirts. He was ready to be my pacer - at a pace that was much slower than his own. We ran a solid 18 miles on target, averaging a 10:30 pace.
What happened?
Then things quite literally took a sharp turn. Without any warning signs or issues all year, I started to feel a twinge in my right side from my hip to my knee. My old IT band injury. It came of nowhere and become more persistent by the minute. The twinges became full spasms which I can only explain as contractions like childbirth. Warning signs from my body to stop that particular motion - running. Damage was happening. In between the spasms, the pain became unbearable. Stronger and stronger. When I shifted from full running mechanics to walking, the spasms stopped and the pain subdued.
From that point on, miles 18-26 were very touch and go, very stop and go, and very painful. In order to continue, I had to shift to the run + walk method. But even those intervals were getting shorter as I continued. Starting first as 2 minutes of running + 1 minute of walking...devolving into 1 minute of running 2 minutes of walking.
Admittedly, it was very embarrassing. Even with all the things that have gone wrong in NYC before, I never had to walk this much. I felt guilty about Tom trying his best to wrangle me. I felt bad when Milltown people tried to cheer. Somehow, I got through all 26.2 miles. But I finished in pain feeling defeated.
I DID set a new marathon PR of 4:51:32, which I attribute to banking all the extra buffer time during the solid 18 miles pre-injury. But I didn't feel great about it. I honestly didn't care. I would have rather had a positive experience that reflected my training, than chase a specific number.
Fast-forward to three weeks later. I found myself at the NYC Marathon experiencing an insane amount of FOMO for what should have been, could have been, I'm not even sure how to describe it. And that's not fair to others involved. I watched the emotional faces pass me spectating, the pain and determination, among those I knew that I was 'chasing', as well as strangers.
I watched my husband achieve so much - what seemed impossible a decade ago. Our ancestors wildest dreams. I watched him in glory as he surpassed his goal for the first 22 miles, and then I watched him suffer as it fell apart.
I watched my kids light up with pride for their father not accepting 'the norm', who dared to be great, even for just one day. And I felt my heart explode falling in love with him all over again as we celebrate our 13th wedding anniversary - always the week of the NYC marathon. Full circle.
