One might assume that after running sixty-one marathons the mystique would’ve worn off, every question would’ve been answered, and the page could finally be turned, but we all know what happens when one assumes anything… The marathon, 26.2 miles, is a short enough distance to run hard, and a long enough distance to be destroyed. I have learned a lot from the sixty-one marathons I have run over the past twenty-one years, some revelations were pleasant, many were not-so pleasant, but what I learned during my recent daunting date with it last Sunday is that I do not know it all, yet I am still curious to figure it out.

My **Biscay Coaching** **teammate, Briana Horgan, who traveled from Oahu to race CIM on Sunday.**

The conditions on race morning were carved out of a runner’s dream. The rain that pelted down all day prior (and while standing in line for forty-five minutes in front of the Capitol waiting to board the shuttle buses to the start in Folsom) had stopped, the air was cold and dry, but not frigid, rather it was the goldilocks temperature for a marathon runner.

The pre-race morning routine was tighter than usual due to our shuttle bus driver taking a wrong turn, (apparently), and the fact that I once again chose a very long line for the port-o-potty, (I never choose the quick line), so after peeling away four of my seven layers, I barely made it to my correct corral on time for the 7A start, but by 7:04ish, I was across the starting line, and the race was ON!

**Wet roads and a High-Pony, someone's excited to run.**

The training build leading up to this marathon was unlike any other I’ve done before. As I mentioned last week, the decision to run CIM two weeks after Ironman Arizona was a novel challenge, I had no idea how I would feel once the race arrived, so when Hillary assigned one marathon specific workout deep into Ironman training, (two completely different beasts), I was pleasantly surprised that I was able to click into my marathon pace 7:20-7:25ish min. mi. easily, when my Ironman marathon pace (what I had been running consistently) was 8:10-8:15ish min. mi. Thank you, muscle memory!!

Moreover, I never doubted that I would have plenty of fitness to deliver me from Folsom back to the Capitol (start and finish of the point-to-point race), but I cannot say that I felt 100% ready to run the marathon at my desired 7:20ish effort; my left hamstring was still too tight, and I just didn’t feel quite right.

**Stress testing my left hamstring after my treadmill shake out run on Saturday afternoon.**

Nevertheless, there was no way I was going to carefully saunter my way through the race.

Even if I didn’t feel 100% on race morning, I was fueled to run as quickly as possible because I had to be out my hotel room by 12P, my heart pumped ferociously from learning frustrating news the day before, and I simply wanted to run as fast as I could for as long as I could.

*Disclaimer* This is NOT the way I would recommend any of my athletes, and/or anyone, to run a marathon.

However, I had experience, a love/obsession with the distance, plus a “There is no tomorrow!” attitude because it was the last race of the year which meant I would have time to heal and recover the rest of December; I had already done so much this year, I just needed to run hard for three more hours.

Head’s up to anyone who runs CIM in the future, it is not a flat course.

It is full of legit rollers that are sneakier than advertised. The race starts downhill, but then pops up along mile two, and is consistently up and down the entire 26.2 miles. It’s beautiful, but not easy.

The first 10K felt good. I was clicking off 7:15, 7:06, 7:07, 7:20min., miles at a crusiey effort with minimal strain and maximum joy. The course was crowded, and I always find jockeying between people annoying, but then I settled into a decent crew around mile eight and hung with them until mile twelve. Then just before crossing under the half marathon arch, my left hamstring started to seize up.

My pace went from sub 7:25, to 7:35 at mile thirteen, then 7:41 at mile fourteen, but by mile fifteen, well, I don’t know what my pace was because I stopped looking at my watch. I had lost touch with my adopted speedy pace group and turned from the runner who passes to the runner who gets passed.

I never lost faith that I would finish, but longed for the lifetime when I had full range of motion in my left leg, and felt nagged by the thought that maybe racing a marathon two weeks after racing an Ironman wasn’t the best idea? My leg really hurt, but it was still attached, I was still moving forward, and I had plenty of energy, so I adjusted to a manageable stride, and kept running.

**"Supination-O-Rama!" AKA, that's not right.**

It was shaping up to be a truly gorgeous morning. And even though I was not feeling so hot, it was impossible to be upset. I was literally wading through uncharted waters, even after running a gazillion marathons, I had never run one like this, and I let that acceptance sink in, considering the ludicrous circumstances of this challenge, it was okay to not feel okay.

By mile twenty-two, I genuinely felt okay again, (just not below my waist), because I ran by an official race clock that displayed 2:50. Since I started a few minutes later than 7A, that meant I was on pace to finish under 3:30 hours. Really? I can’t say that I picked up my pace too much, because mile twenty-two was my slowest mile of the race, 9:24, but I did dip below 9:00 min. pace for the last three miles, which felt like flying!

Those final few miles of the course leading us down toward the finish line by the Capitol were strewn with brilliantly colored trees, loud cheering crowds, and the promise of an exclamation point to a very packed year of racing, training, and enduring every challenge in between right around the corner waiting for me at the finish line.

What a ridiculous thing to do so close to finishing an Ironman, running a 3:28:40 marathon!

What the??? I just finished my sixty-first marathon, and even though I was in agony for most of it, I never walked, I didn’t quit, and I ran it as hard as I possibly could with what I had on the day, honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been more proud of myself. I had this race in my sights the entire year, I knew it would be tough, I also knew that it would be justified to call the year after Ironman Arizona, end it on that high note, preserve my body, but that is what I signed up for; I wanted to start the year with a marathon, Surf City in February, and I wanted to finish the year with a marathon, CIM in December, and although it wasn’t pretty, no PR’s were set, I did what I set out to do, and that is more than enough.

The song and video choice this week is a new, bright tune that makes me smile, Sunroof by Nicky Youre.