{This is a guest post, written by my best friend, and rock, Jaime. This is a lengthy post but it's a doozy; Jaim left no detail out and paints a beautiful picture of her 3rd marathon. Enjoy!}
There are a lot of different moments in time from which
I could start this post.
I could write about the day I decided to run the Carmel
Marathon. Or the day I convinced Bri to run alongside me. Or the low point in
training when I literally fell in a heap of tears to Meggie and Christi and
told them that I just couldn't do it. My runs were awful. I had negative
thoughts. I had aches and pains. And I only had 12 weeks to get in prime shape
for this race. I'll never forget Christi hugging me, and telling me that we
were talking about three months of training, not three weeks. With three weeks
to go and all of that happening, she'd be worried. With three months? Well, she
pretty much guaranteed that I could make this my best race yet. I had no idea
at the time just how right she would be...
And as if on cue, my training did turn around. I made
some adjustments, and I threw out the plan that I had printed out and pinned on
my wall at work. I hit reset and started again. And surprisingly, it worked. I
felt better on my runs leading up to the race than I had ever felt before. I
was ready.
Unfortunately, my nerves kicked into high gear a lot
earlier than I was prepared for. Typically I wake up on Monday of race week and
the butterflies are starting to lightly flutter. But these nerves were in full
effect a good 10 days pre-race. I was flat out panicked. And those race demons
weren't just talking to me, they were screaming.
I did everything I could think of to calm down, and
nothing seemed to work. I physically worried myself sick. And when the
heartbreaking email came through from Bri, explaining that due to her injury
she felt it was best to pull out of the race, I wanted to curl up in the fetal
position and make it all go away. Bri, Meghan and I were supposed to be running
this race together. Bri and I had spent countless hours over the last few
months texting back and forth about our running, cross training, etc. Taking
her out of the equation was almost too much for me to handle.
I pride myself on being the kind of person who drops
everything to help a close friend. I overheard a friend years ago in a
conversation saying that if you asked her to fly to the moon and back she'd
tell you she needed to get her nails done first. She then said if you asked me
the same thing, I'd ask you what time we were leaving.
But I couldn't fix this. Bri was out. Plain and simple.
I needed to be there for her. I needed to do anything I could to support her,
and ensure her that this was nothing more than a blip in her running journey
that would force her to take a step back, re-evaluate and come back stronger than
ever.
But inside? Oh nelly. Inside I was falling apart. I did
everything I could to convince myself that this slight change of plans wouldn't
get me down. But it did. Fast and furiously I started to unravel and question
everything.
So when I received an email from Christi stating that
she couldn't let the race demons get me down and that she was willing to
upgrade from the half to the full, just to ensure I had someone with me the
entire time while I crushed my goal, I sat at my computer and I shook. Tears
started streaming. My hands couldn't type. I literally sat, and I stared at the
computer screen and just kept asking myself how in the world I became so
blessed to have met these women. These people who don't bat an eye and pick up
for each other in times of need.
Fast forward a few days and I found myself standing at
the start line with my girls. I will never forget seeing Kel standing on the
curb waving me on, telling me it was time to head to the corrals. I took off in
a slow trot heading toward her and briefly looked to my right. And there she
was…our Boppy Fairy, Bri. Yelling at us that she’d be out there, to go on for
it, and that she loved us. I stopped in my tracks, turned and ran back. I
grabbed her in a hug, kissed her cheek and told her I loved her. I don’t care
that she wasn’t physically there every step of the way with me for the race.
She was there in one way or another. She was there in spirit. And sometimes
that is all you need to keep you going.
The nervous chatter started as soon as we got to our
starting point, and Kel asked someone to take our picture. Not going to
lie…it’s pretty damn cute.
Right after we took the picture, Kel decided she was
heading up toward the front of the pack. Girl was going on for it. I was so
proud of her. It isn’t easy to run any distance by yourself. Believe me. Try
sitting in your own head with very few distractions for anywhere from 2-4
hours. Yeah, good luck with that.
And then, before I knew it, Christi, Meghan and I were
off and running. And I remember thinking, just like I do in literally every
race I run, that I couldn’t believe I was there. I couldn’t believe it was
finally the day to do this. I couldn’t believe I still had 26 miles to go…
We used the first couple of miles to get accustomed to
our race plans. We’d strategized earlier in the week about where we would stop
for fluid and fuel, which helped us break the race into multiple segments
rather than one long stretch. We knew that all we needed to focus on at this
moment in time was getting to the water stop somewhere near mile 4.
Just as we settled into our pace, and our nerves started
to dissipate and our focus set in, I looked up and saw her coming. I’d
recognize that little thing running anywhere. The half marathon runners had a
turning point just up the road from where we were that brought them back toward
us before they turned off again. I started to tear up (races are an emotional
time for me, get over it) and then thought “No, don’t cry. You can’t cry. Cheer
for her like your life depends on it.” And with that I yelled out as loudly as
possible “KELLY MCCULLOCH!” Game on. Christi is screaming “Go on for it!” and
Meghan is hooping and hollering all while Kel is pumping her arm in the air
right up until she gets right in front of me, and then she throws out her hand
for a high five. Sure, we looked a little crazy. Some may feel as though we
caused a scene. Ask me if I care. These are my girls, and I will do anything to
pump them up.
We finally saw that coveted first water stop up ahead
and I looked down at my watch to make sure we were still on pace to walk
through it. I started to ask Christi and Meghan what their Garmin’s showed for
pace, but just as I looked up I saw it and I stopped talking. My car. Parked on
a side street not 20 yards in front of me. And there was a man standing
outside, jumping up and down and clapping his hands. And I lost it.
My dad. My boys. My babies were watching me run. And
they were proud.
I yelled to the girls that the boys were up ahead and we
all started waving frantically, and blowing kisses. And those sweet little
smiles looked out at me from behind the windshield in the front seat of my car
and they waved and blew kisses right back. I live for moments like that.
And to be honest, those moments just kept coming, one
right after another throughout the entire race.
Right after we saw my dad and the boys, we looked up
ahead and saw our sweet little Boppy Fairy coming toward us. I wanted to yell
“Bri! No! Do not run!” But then I heard Christi say “Is she skipping?” and
looked closer. Yep, no need to tell girl not to run. She was a-skippin’ down
the street! Aaannnddd…she’s back J
There was a flurry of activity as she asked us how we
felt, where our heads were at, and if we needed anything. She shot a few
pictures and just as we started to say goodbye as we turned a corner we were
hit with another surprise. Meghan’s parents.
I have never met Mr. and Mrs. Freeman but I can tell you
this…I love them. Any parents who will come out to cheer on their child, AND
make a sign that says “It’s Meghan Freeman Time” to boot, are pretty good
people in my book.
Next up was Meghan’s boyfriend, Jake. Oh Jake, how we
love you so. In fact, I’d like to petition that he win an award for best
Perfect Stranger cheerleader. EVER. That man has met us on the Monon Trail to
deliver fuel belts. He’s sat with us at carb loading dinners to pre-race
strategize. He wears compression socks while he stands on the side of the road
just so we know that he is with us 100%. I’m pretty sure if we asked him to don
a Perfect Strangers running tank he’d do that, too. And his voice? Oh, his
voice. No joke you can hear it booming from miles away. Most times when you
think you see a familiar face on the side of the road, you squint your eyes and
look ahead and ask “Is that so and so?” Not with Jake. The minute you think you
see him he yells. And then you know it couldn’t be anyone else.
Somewhere around mile 8 we saw my sweet husband Jeremy
with his friend, John (who also happens to be a good friend of Christi’s).
Right after seeing them the race route headed into River Road Park. It was
actually really nice to head off the beaten path for a bit, but it wasn’t long
before we dumped right back out onto the main roads again. The good news is
that Jeremy and John were there to greet us again, and as we passed John made
sure to let us know that the Kenyans were not far ahead. He claimed to have
seen them just seconds ago and if we tried really hard we could more than
likely catch up with them.
Ahhh…laughter truly is the best medicine. Even for pain.
Here’s the thing…when you run a race in your hometown,
people can come out in droves to cheer you on. And it is fan-freaking-tastic. I
swear every time we looked up there was someone there rooting for us. Right
after we saw John and Jeremy the second time, we saw my sweet little boys and
dad again. And this time I ran ahead of the girls so I could deliver proper
snuggles of thanks.
And it was finally almost time for that second fuel stop.
Whew! Mile 9. We needed it. We were starting to feel the pace we’d been keeping
because it was a pretty fast clip. And we were cold. And the wind was darn near
unbearable. It was definitely time for a reset. (I am pretty sure we saw Jake
and his friend, Chris, at this point, too. But my memory of this portion of the
race is a bit fuzzy.)
I warned the girls that our biggest hill was quickly
approaching. We needed to take in our gels and water, and some deep breaths,
and then get ready to conquer. I’d told them that just at the crest of the hill
my girlfriend, Annie, had posted signs that she’d made for me. I knew if I got
to the point where I could see the signs that it would give me the spring in my
step that I needed to make it all the way to the top. So off I went. And of
course I asked Christi to run ahead and snap a picture for me J
It was around this time that I realized just how many
military personnel had been positioned on the course. I don’t think I had taken
proper account of them before, and as we ran toward the man standing in the
center of the street at attention it hit me. We can do this. It’s nothing in
comparison to what he or his friends and comrades may have been through. We can
handle 26.2 miles. We said thank you as we passed and all shared a moment of
silence as we realized our aches and pains were nothing in comparison to what
so many others have had to experience.
And then (as if on cue because we definitely needed a
laugh) we saw Jake again. But this time was different. He wasn’t just standing
and cheering. Jake was actually stretching. And as we passed he yelled out
something about how he was starting to feel the effects of all this chasing.
And the three of us lost it. I busted out in laughter and yelled “Oh, I’m
sorry. Have YOU had a rough go of it, today? You’ve had a lot going on there,
buddy?”
The next few miles were nothing but pure will and
determination. We all knew we wanted to see the 13.1 mile marker at no more
than 2:00. We each had our own goals for the race, but we knew if we picked up
the pace in the first half then we would be able to recover and take a bit
longer in the second half. We saw Meghan’s parents again, and then my
girlfriend, Sam, and her family.
And before I knew it we were there. We were at Hawthorne
Drive, looking at Kel’s house with Mike and the girls in the driveway. And that
beautiful sign that read 13.1.
Mike had promised the night before at dinner that he
would be blaring music from the house and he did not disappoint. Sadly, I have
no idea what he was playing. I just remember seeing them all snuggled up in
their lawn chairs. The girls were waving so proudly and blew us kisses as we
ran past. And then, just when I thought we were out of ear shot I hear “Bye
Gigi”.
Ugh.
I couldn’t love those two little girls more if I tried.
Thank God for the Larabar that Annie had attached to the
sign she made me. I’d saved it in case of emergency and right around this point
we hit an emergency. I was starving. Luckily we saw Jake again (I’m telling
you…best cheerleader ever) and he was able to open our gel packets and the
Larabar as our hands were literally frozen. I ripped that bad boy in half and
gave one half to Christi and threw the other half down the hatch. We had
another 13.1 to go and we needed as much fuel as we could get.
Game. On.
Meghan started to hang back a bit at this point so as to
save as much energy as possible for her second half, so I knew it was just
Christi and I against the world (aka my goal). My public goal for this race was
to run it in 4:30 or less. My super secret goal that only Christi knew was that
I wanted to run it in 4:25 or less. Unfortunately the wind was picking up, and
the hills were getting worse. The pains were starting to creep up on me. I
honestly didn’t know if I could do it.
Right around mile 15 we saw my friend Christina and I
collapsed into her arms in a heap of tears. I thought I had missed her, and I
needed to see her. She was fantastic. She told me how proud she was of me. She
told me that I looked great. She told me to keep going. So I did…
We turned onto the Hagan Burke Trail and somehow ended
up behind the boy who Christi endearingly named “Shake Rattle and Roll”. I
swear to you this guy must have had an entire can of jelly beans in his pocket.
And they shook as loudly as they could with every step he took. Want to know
what the world’s most annoying sound is when you are halfway through a marathon
and in pain?
Jelly beans in a can being shaken over, and over, and
over.
One woman standing on the side of the trail watched him
run past and the look on her face was priceless. And then she turned to Christi
and I as we passed. “I bet you just love him.” Oh let me count the ways…
Thankfully we knew we had an upcoming cheerleading
section of Kelly and Bri. Christi had received word via text that Kelly was
done with her race and they were on their bikes and ready to meet us at mile
17. We were so incredibly happy to see them. We needed a distraction and for
people to just talk to us for a few minutes. I don’t know that we would have
made it through that hill without them peddling alongside of us. We talked to
Kel about her race and she’d killed it at 2:00. That is a fantastic time for a
half marathon in Carmel on this route. Folks, there are some serious hills to
contend with in this race. Sister rocked it.
Bri and Kel left us (just as I told them their chipper
attitude was annoying me – love you ladies!) and we were off again. Headed to
the next reset spot. Mile 18. And that’s when it started to get really tough.
We did and said everything we could to keep each other
going. And surprisingly our watches still showed us running a consistent
9:30-9:50 pace. We kept saying we needed to slow down and conserve but we just
kept pushing ourselves. I honestly don’t remember miles 18-21. I don’t remember
one thing about them, except for the fact that they hurt. It was somewhere
around the end of that fog that I recall heading into the trails at the Monon
Center.
Mile 21. I remember seeing the sign and thinking “5.2
miles. You can do that in your sleep. Go.”
Unfortunately mile 21-22 was a bit of a mind trick for
both Christi and me. The trails loop around the land at the Monon Center, so
there were runners ahead of us and behind us going in every which direction.
Any distance runner will tell you that there is almost nothing worse than
heading into a difficult portion of a race and being able to see other runner’s
right next to you who have already finished that portion and are heading out of
the loop. Prime example? The Indianapolis Motor Speedway portion of the Mini
Marathon. As you enter the track, there are people right next to you running
out of it. Mind games.
We finally made it through the maze with a few choice
words for the race route, and I could faintly see the sign for mile 22 up
ahead. Just as I start to turn to Christi to pump her up again, she squints
ahead and says “Is that my Mom?”
Nothing like an unexpected Mama sighting to bring a girl
to tears. Hell I barely know Christi’s mom and I cried.
We ran up on her and she cheered and yelled for Christi
with all her might. She also kept crying out “I can’t get my camera to work!”
We both needed that laugh :) I told her that Christi was amazing, and that she
was doing a phenomenal job and on we went. And just before we were out of
earshot she yelled “Go, Christi, go! Disney 2013!”
Huh?
“My mom wants to go to Disney in January. She wants me
to go, too, and run the marathon.”
I won’t lie. It sounds enticing.
And then we were finally upon that coveted water stop at
mile 22. Finally time to stop and walk so we could down our last gels and some
water, and hit that beloved reset button.
Finally time to see our girls again.
Bri and Kel were up ahead, screaming and yelling and
using those plastic hand clappers that I hate at home when my boys make too
much noise with them but L.O.V.E during a race. They gave us that much needed
motivation to put some spring back in our step and just go on for it. For the
love of all things holy, we just needed to get this race over with.
Just as we headed out of the trails, I remember feeling
strong again. I remember thinking “You are doing it. You are going to finish
your 3rd marathon. Be proud.” It was at that point that I said aloud
“I would like to thank the fine folks at CrossFit for the help they’ve provided
me in making my legs stronger to get through this race!”
And with that, Christi caught the giggles.
“Jaime! We’ve got 3 miles to go and you’re giving your
acceptance speech?!”
Oh we laughed and laughed over that one… There is
something to be said about gut wrenching laughter on a run. It’s HARD to laugh
(or cry) and run at the same time. For reals. Try it and get back to me. It
knocks the wind out of you, and you cannot breathe. But for whatever reason
that makes you laugh harder. Kind of like when you are growing up and something
strikes you as funny in elementary school class. You get that glare from the
teacher and you pray she doesn’t call you out in front of everyone. But you are
doing everything in your power to stop laughing and you just can’t do it. But
as much as it hurts sometimes, I love to have a good laugh on a run. It reminds
me that what we’re all really children at heart, out there playing around and
having a good time. It reminds me that we should never take ourselves too
seriously.
We decided to take one more reset somewhere between
miles 23 and 24. They were handing out water and oranges, so I grabbed one of
each and kept walking. Christi was right next to me, and then she wasn’t. I
heard her say “Wait? What’s in there?” as she turned back and grabbed a small
cup off of a table. I’m trying to drink my water and shove this orange down my
throat, and I look over to see Christi smiling and waving a small chocolate
wafer at me.
“Want some?” she said, with a newfound sparkle in her
eyes. Like that chocolate wafer was the ticket to eternal happiness. I stuck
with the orange, she downed the wafer and off we went.
My head was once again starting to play games with me,
and I kept checking my Garmin to make sure we were on pace. But I honestly
couldn’t even do the simplest of math any longer. I saw the mile marker for 24,
and I read the clock, but it didn’t resonate right away. And then Christi said
it…
“Jaime, do you see that clock?”
“Yes.”
“Are you reading what it says?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what it means?”
Tears.
“That we’re going to beat my goal?”
“Girl, you are going to crush your goal.”
My dad and the boys were at their final cheering place
just before we hit mile 25. I needed them. I needed to see those sweet faces
one last time before we turned the corner and picked it up.
Christi talked me through every last bit of that race.
We turned onto Main Street, and she explained that we had two more right turns
until the finish line. We had two more hills. We had a lot of life left in us.
We didn’t need to start sprinting, so as to conserve that very last bit for the
very end. But we were going to do it. I was going to PR. And being the angel
that she is, Christi just kept repeating over and over “Jaime, I am so proud of
you. Do you know that? I am so, so proud of you.”
We made that first turn, and I heard someone yell my
name. I looked up and saw my friend, Annie, hanging out of her car window
screaming as loud as she could. I smiled and waved and kept on going.
And then we were there. That final turn. We’d crested
our final hill. Just as we started to turn Christi pointed out two runners
ahead of us and mentioned that we were definitely going to beat the two of them
today. And we did. We passed them with ease.
And then I heard them.
I swear to you it was as if the entire volume was turned
down on the earth except for Kelly’s and Bri’s voices. I looked ahead to try
and find them, and I finally saw them standing on the side of the road jumping
up and down and screaming.
I burst into tears and just kept telling myself to pick
up the pace. Just keep running. And just as I passed her, I remember Kelly
looking me right in the eye, locking right into my soul and yelling “You nailed
it!” over and over and over.
And it hit me. I nailed it. I did it. WE did it.
We crossed the finish line in 4:22:57.
Running a marathon is by far one of the toughest, yet
most gratifying, experiences of your entire life. I don’t care if you can do it
in 2 hours or 6 hours. You are doing it. And that, my friends, is what matters.
You are out there, pushing yourself beyond all comprehension, proving to
yourself that you are strong and confident and ABLE. You have trained for months
on end. You have subjected yourself to tip toeing around the house at 4:45AM so
as not to wake your family before you head out for a quick 2+ hour training
run. You have run in extreme heat, or extreme cold. You’ve taken ice baths.
You’ve drank sports drink after sports drink, and consumed gel after gel.
You are an athlete. And you are able.
Oh, and speaking of athletes? Yeah, Meghan pulled out a
nice PR by 20 minutes. Did you read that right? TWENTY MINUTES. You go on for
it, girl. You came up here and put the own on Carmel that day.
There are a million people that I could thank right now,
but this isn’t an acceptance speech. It’s simply a story about a couple of
girls who ran a race. But the thing is these aren’t just any girls. These are
my Perfect Strangers. It wasn’t our first race together and it won’t be our
last.
So if you see any of us out there training, go
ahead…give us a high five. Yell out our coined phrase of “Go on for it!”
And know that no matter what, we are trying our best.
There are bad days, and there are good days, but we are out there and we are
trying. It’s what we do.
There simply isn’t any other option.
xo~
J
{I'd be remiss if I didn't add how proud I was of all the girls on Saturday. But when Jaime passed me coming down the finishing chute, I lost it. I screamed at the top of my lungs "You effing nailed it!" over and over, as Jaime said. But what she didn't know is that even though there was a smile on my face, there were tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat. I was just so dang proud of her. Something about witnessing my best friend accomplish her goal that just made my heart want to leap out of my chest. I beamed for her. With her. So proud.}
