The "All By Myself" Marathon

Well folks, I ran my 7th marathon ever today, it's been three years since my last marathon and this one was different from any other marathon I have ever run before. How so? I ran it alone, and it was unofficial...no race chip, no water stations, no running bibs, and sadly no medal. So why did I do this? I guess it was a test. When I arrived in California 4 months ago I found a culture of running shared amongst my co-workers, which was great. And several of them were training for a marathon so I hopped on the bandwagon and started training along with them. Sadly the marathon they were training for is this up coming weekend, and being a new kid on the block working weekends I couldn't really request the time off to join them. But training was fun. My days off did not overlap well with the others, so I was surprised that I stuck with the training and peeked at 22 miles a couple weeks ago, again all by myself. So this week I really had no reason to try to run the full 26.2. However, several of the actual marathoners asked me if I would run it on my own. I said no, and then naturally started thinking about it more, and decided this morning to give it a go. I mapped out a route the night before, brought my water bottle strapped to by back, and took off at 9:15am. It started out as an easy jog around some San Jose neighborhoods so that I would end up on the Los Gatos Creek Trail after already logging 5 miles, and that part went fine. I continued along the trail for the length of it, not having any issues, aside from almost faceplanting while I tripped as I was looking at Great Blue Heron around mile 11, things went fine. And then the usual marathon wall was struck around mile 15. I was definitely feeling it in my hips at that point. But I struggled along. I did walk a bit from then til the end, basically whenever I stopped at a water fountain to refill my water bottle I would walk about 0.2 miles until my stomach stopped sloshing from the water and would pick it up again. I had a near bathroom crisis around mile 19, which has happened before to me during marathons, though normally relieved via the desperate search for a porta-potty and hoping to find one with some toilet paper remaining. Well thank the gods I had good karma and shortly after my GI tract started getting all willy-nilly I saw a Campbell public restroom along the trail, and by gosh it had toilet paper. Five minutes later I hit the trail again, feeling a couple pounds lighter and seeming to have found a second wind. For a good 3-4 miles I felt great again, helped along by some great tunes and thinking I didn't have the far to make it. The true testament to my jedi mind strength came at mile 24- I got to the end of the Los Gatos Creek Trail by my house again and could easily turn left to head home in 0.5 miles, but I forced my willpower to keep me moving straight and add another 2 mile loop before returning home and finishing the miles I had intended. Those last two miles, like many marathons before, were brutal. My hips hurt. My feet hurt. And I had no one to cheer me on this time. But I continued on and finished. I did it. 26.3 actually. And super proud of it. Of course, I then climbed the stairs to my apartment and collapsed, and was too tired to push the dog away from me as he indulged in licking all salty goodness that had accumulated on my face off. I was thinking about what to call this "race" and thought the "All By MYself" Marathon summed it up, though when I thought of that phrase I pictured the opening scene of Bridget Jones' Diary as she drinks a bottle of wine and sings that song embracing her spinster-hood status. I then thought it would be worthwhile drinking my own bottle of wine when I got home, but gladly my dumb blonde brain had enough cells remaining in it to realize wine+26.3 miles= instantaneous vomiting. No PRs here, but I will say the phrase that came to mind again and again was "That'll do pig, that'll do."