Amid crowds of hopeful runners dressed in Mickey ears and Tinkerbell wings, Laura and I set out in the pre-dawn blackness. The air was thick with excitement from all the bodies jostling for position. Adrenaline was coursing through our veins, as we blindly entered our first emotional phase of the race: euphoria. This phase is exemplified by cockiness and the phrase, "hey, no problem!" We maintained this air of false confidence all the way through the 6th mile ("if we keep this pace up, we'll finish in 4-and-a-half hours!") and well into the 12th. The sun was shining, we both felt good,untouchable even. Little did we know that we were getting ready to hit our first wall....funny how it happend at mile 13.
Ironically, things started to fall apart after our first food station. This is when we arrived at the next phase of the race: doubt. The first phase was so blissfully long, that we were lured into a false sense of security. Which is why the next one hit hard enough to make our back teeth rattle. Doubt crept in typified by the words: "what if I can't do it?" It was scary to let thoughts like this creep into my mind. I began to worry incessantly: did I train enough? what if I can't finish? what if my knee doesn't stop hurting? will I have to cross the finish line on a stretcher?
Doubt morphed seamlessly into the phase of crankiness. : "This sucks," was muttered from every pore. Why does the sun have to be so darn hot? My shorts are chafing. Whose idea was this anyway? The litany of inner complaints was nonstop all the way to Mile 25....Is my blister getting bigger? What's that smell? Why is that b*@#% not sweating? But right around the time I crossed a bridge into little France, I allowed my last smile to come out. I remember thinking, "at least I made it to Paris." We continued a slow jog past a perfect miniature of the Eiffel Tower into the last leg of the race.
The last 1.2 miles passed in a haze of pain. Enter the worst emotional phase of the race: despair. "Will this never end?" My thighs screamed and I felt like I was wearing concrete socks. A thin layer of salt had formed on every visible centimeter of my skin. From time to time I would turn my head to look at Laura, just to make sure she was still there. That was not the first time during the race that I felt reassured by her presence, lucky to have her by my side. We passed an Italian villa, a Mayan village, a gospel choir, a growing crowd of spectators on our way to the home stretch.
The final phase of the race, both literally and emotionally, began at Mile 26. Elation grew as we rounded the last corner...."Am I dreaming?" There were trees blocking my view, but I could hear the crowd ahead, the sound growing as we drew closer. Then everything started happening at once. Laura and I saw the Finish line at the same time: "I think I'm going to cry," she said. I could barely answer her for the lump in my throat. Tears pricked my eyes, the people in the stands screamed as they came to their feet. My heart leapt, knowing that I would always remember these moments. I looked up at the giant clock marking my time as I moved in slow motion across the Finish line.
Triumph: the one word to describe how I felt at the end of the 26.2 miles. I was so proud of me, of us. I was thankful my body allowed me to accomplish my goal. I was amazed my mind stayed along for the whole ride. And I was grateful. Thank you, Laura, for never straying from my side. It was an honor to run my first marathon with you. 8426 and 15122 made the 2007 Disney World Marathon look good!
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