

We did it! Jane met her goal of finishing in under five hours (4:57:46) and I met mine of finishing, period (5:48:28). I ran the practice one in about 5:30 a month ago, but I totally peaked then and yesterday -- at the risk of exagerating and being overly dramatic, which you know is so unlike me -- was a nightmare of agony and misery.
My right knee and foot (which I somehow injured a month ago during the practice marathon) started hurting at about the 10th mile, so the next 16 were just a very long and NOT fun slog of steadily worsening pain, lots and lots of pain. Several people had suggested I put my name on my shirt, and although I feared hearing strangers shouting my name would be annoying, it actually provided a huge boost. The only problem was I couldn't tell when people I do know were cheering me on from the sidelines, so I missed waving to several, including my wonderful cousin Brenda who waited for ages on an overpass with a neon pink sign, and also almost everyone at the end.
Denise came down for the weekend from RI and was a huge help. She made me a delicious fish dinner Saturday night, got up at 5:30 in the morning and drove us to the metro, and helped me get ready. She also told me of a study she'd just read about in which people who counted the things they were grateful for each day were healthier, happier, more althruistic, and had much better relationships. So all through the endless miserable miles, I said to myself, "I'm grateful for the beautiful, cool weather; I'm grateful I had the time to train for this; I'm grateful for all my friends and family who've supported me; I'm grateful I could afford good shoes and the chiropractor and health insurance for my orthotics;" etc. But honestly, underneath all that gratefulness was a steady and much more sincere mantra of "this f&%^ing sucks, this f^%&ing sucks, this f%&^ing sucks..."
My daughter Maddie and nephew Byron jumped in and ran the last mile with me, which was great. I had to run up the final hill and through the shoot alone, and crossing under the big balloon-arch finish line was definitely up there among the greatest moments of my life. When a heartbreakingly young and handsome marine draped the medal around my neck, and another one wrapped me in the blue and silver foil blanket, and another one handed me a can of pinapple-orange juice, I just broke down and sobbed. So queer.
The medal is HUGE and heavy and pretty darn tacky but I don't care -- I wore it all day and then hung it up in my kitchen window. At long last I can check this one off the list -- yeah baby! I can safely say that I will never, ever, EVER do this again, and as I sit here nursing all my aching muscles and joints, you can take that to the bank and cash it.
All my love and thanks to Jane for training with me these past many months -- now that I've done it, I can't believe I asked her to do such a ridiculously time consuming and difficult thing AGAIN. You're amazing, Jane! Thanks to Jadie for the photos, to Pancho and Denise for carrying all our stuff and getting everyone there (among many other nice things), and to Ginny and Andrew, Lynne, Jadie and Leslie, Byron, Maddie, Nancy and Tom, Brenda, and Evelyn and Stephen for coming out to cheer me on, and to Martine and Bruce for offering to have a party and for joining us (Mel too) at Iota after. I promise to stop talking about this now, and to finally stop celebrating my birthday, I swear!
And then to top it all off, the Red Sox won the World Series -- again. Unbelievable!!!