Here we are, six weeks later. I've had time to think about the marathon and process it all, but I think I'm still at it.
It was a lovely weekend. Clear and cool. I flew to MSP early Saturday morning, and Mike and Foster picked me up. We went to Swede Hollow Cafe to pick up breakfast, but when we got to the house they hadn't included his cinnamon roll--boo. Jess came home from hockey, Mike went to the Gopher game, we hung out. In the afternoon, we all went to the expo, which was ok, but not awesome. I was a little disappointed by the merchandise; there was next to nothing left. We considered dinner from Cosetta's, but all the pasta sauce had meat, so we just made pasta at the house.
Sunday, Jess' parents were sick, but she was able to find a babysitter to arrive at 6:30(!), as she and Mike were running the 10 mile. We took off for the Metrodome, she dropped us off and found parking in time to start on time. I had time to kill. After a bit, off to the start. It was cold enough (30s) that I'd decided to go with short tights, though I hadn't worn them since spring. I probably would've been ok with shorts. We took off through downtown Minneapolis and headed for the lakes. I notice an older black man on a corner playing a tuba around 2.5 and found out later that it was Alan Page. I liked a sign that said "St. Paul or bust". The lakes were lovely, but I felt crowded and spent a lot of the race looking at the people right in front of me. I saw Mike, Jess, and Foster along the river, around 18. I looked for them around John Marshall, but didn't remember exactly where it was and got there earlier than expected. I looked for Todd & Jill on their corner but got there early too and didn't see them. I high-fived Steve Stenzel, who was not dancing, and had his chicken head off at 25, but could not summon the energy to cross the street to high-five Al Franken at 25.5. I knew at the time I'd regret it. I finished in 4:21:00 officially, and was thrilled. I cried for a bit, picked up snacks and my shirt and headed to gear check. I had a finisher photo taken. After sitting for a bit, I gathered myself, and started staggering down University Ave. toward Mike's. He came and got me, and I cleaned up. He ran a fantastic 10, in part due to inaccurate time clocks along the way. I ate something (what? leftovers?) and we went to the North Face to spend our coupons. Then Jess and Foster ran for sushi and Mike and I picked up fish and chips in Terry's old neighborhood. I ate both! Monday morning Mike dropped me at the airport and homeward I flew.
Recovery has been unexpectedly slow. I had visions of a Halloween half, which turned into a Thanksgiving half, and now that's not happening either. My longest run since the race has been 6.5 miles. I've been running three days a week, usually 3-4 during the week and 5-6.5 on the weekends. My legs feel tired at the end of the longer runs. I'm trying to get back into my core routine. I have already decided that I did not do enough on the day of the race and the next few to facilitate recovery and will do better at that in the future.
What's up with that time? My goal was 4:30, or really 4:29 in order to beat Oprah. My strategy was to lock onto the 4:30 pacer and hang on for dear life. Any better would be gravy. As it happened, she went a little faster than the designated pace to build up a cushion before Summit Ave. (not what was advertised)! I decided not to look at my watch at all, and I only did once (at the 6 mile marker), to make sure it was running--I never heard the splits. By the time we were near Summit Ave., I decided to see if I could get away from the pacer. A lot of people were following her, and I wanted to get out of the crowd to get some space for myself. So I did. I felt like the hills were a drag, but manageable. I looked at my watch when I crossed the finish line and was really pleased. I knew before I got there that I would beat 4:30, because the pace group was still behind me and out of earshot, but I wasn't sure by how much.
So when you get a time that's beyond what you thought possible, what does it mean? That you could have done even better? That you've been slacking all along? I'm getting old enough for my best times to have been in the past. Immediately afterward, I thought that I'd probably never be able to do better, so there wouldn't need to be another marathon for me, unless I wanted to do a special one, like SF with Ashley. Of course, that has worn off, and I'm starting to think about next year. I've made no decisions yet.
