Running Farther Than Ever Before

Eight months in the making. Man, I could have practically had a baby in the length of time I trained for the Seattle half-marathon I ran last weekend. While I have no idea what labor is like, I imagine some of the pain I experienced during the run is somewhat akin to beginning contractions. In fact, the whole eight-month process was pretty painful. The day before the race I met a friend for tea at Victrola, a hip Seattle coffee shop on 15th. While waiting for my friend to arrive I eavesdropped on the surrounding tables (a typical past time of mine that I blame on my reporter-roots . One woman said to another as she packed up her stuff, “Have a fun time with the race tomorrow!” And the woman responded, “Yeah, right! It won’t be fun!” So, if it sucks so much, why run a half-marathon? It’s all about the journey.

Julie and Robyn during Oct. trip to Seattle for training run and some fun

Nine months ago I got an email from my friend Robyn in Boston about running the half-marathon once she had moved to Seattle. Par for the course, I figured why not? That’s something I’ve never done. Of late, I’m becoming very aware of my addiction for trying new things. Jury’s still out on that one. It turns out training was a series of firsts – every time I ran a mile farther, training in the pouring rain, many injuries and committing to one of my most demanding goals yet. The proactivity was worth it – I ended up getting injured twice (once throwing out my back and once from Hood-to-Coast) which stalled training for weeks along with my first bad cold a few weeks ago. Not to mention, the false alarm of having to call the whole thing off when I busted my tailbone at soccer last Wednesday.

Luckily, a few days of heavy ibuprofen intake and bottom icing meant that by Saturday evening I was able to go for a short run without much pain, but a lot of soreness. Perhaps it was just a preview. After a delicious carbo-loading dinner of chicken and pasta and bread and beer, I set out my running gear and breakfast like it was the first day of school. While I was beat, when I hit the futon as my beginner’s running book had predicted, I could not get to sleep for the life of me. We’re talking the excitement of expecting to wake up to a new dollhouse or iphone on Christmas morning. But, this was definitely different – more nerves than excitement. In fact, I don’t think I have ever been this nervous in my life – some kind of internal mixture of a flock of butterflies, a gerbil on a work-out wheel and a case of carbonated soda.

Mile 8 - still alive and waving (white shirt)

We got to sleep in until 6:15 am and it was a balmy Northwest temperature of 50 degrees. Perhaps things would work out well…The real excitement started when I, Robyn and our friend, E.B., got to the race course and were blocked from the start line by mobs of other runners. Apparently, this year had unprecedented, record-setting registration. After hurdling a barrier fence we crossed the start line and my friends were off (they’re actual marathoners) and I was left to my own devices. For the first half a mile I was disgruntled that I had followed the rules and not sneaked my ipod into the race like everyone else. So, instead of hanging out with Kanye West, I kept myself entertained by people watching and sight seeing. You know, just like riding the bus. Except you’re running. For 13.1 miles. Now, that’s true public transportation.

The first five to six miles were scenic (running through downtown, over the 1-90 bridge and under the tunnel to grandmother’s house we go) and I actually caught myself thinking, “Well, this isn’t so bad. It’s just like a long run.” And then came the first major hill of many to come. It’s probably a good thing I only learned a few weeks ago that Seattle is one of the harder courses or else perhaps I would not have made it my first. It was definitely a boost to have Robyn and E.B.’s men cheering along the race course. Interestingly, I noticed there was little bystander encouragement unless you were the cheerer’s “person.” So, I just pretended all the signs were for me. For as much as I’ve complained about my sister’s cowbell during Hood-to-Coast, it sure would’ve been nice to have her around now!

Barely standing at the Seattle Marathon finish line

Mile nine brought another new experience: my first GU (liquid energy bar). Not sure if it worked, but I needed something as miles nine to eleven through the woodsy park were deceivingly serene and hilly and totally brutal. All I could think was, “this is BS,” especially with the high-schoolers behind me narrating all the upcoming hills. Awesome. At least I could look forward to my own family cheerleaders coming up near my brother’s house at mile eleven. I smiled and waved at them, all the while my body felt like a car that was blowing bolts and falling apart one piece at a time. I’ll be honest, the last two miles were not pretty. With pain shooting through my knees and historic IT injuries I ran, walked a little and then sprinted into the finish line (on principle). Two hours and twenty-three minutes and I was a finisher.

Was it worth it? Well, I could have sat on the couch in sweatpants watching a movie in the same amount of time that I had just run 13 miles. But watching a movie is being a spectator to adventure. Over the last eight months and two hours and twenty-three minutes I had been living adventure. What an amazing lesson in being present. Eight months of build up, time and commitment only for the goal to be attained before brunch. Because I had worked so hard to get to that start (and finish) line I was careful to follow my friend’s advice during the race: “Have fun and enjoy the moment.” Throughout the race I looked around thinking, how often do I get to run down the middle of a downtown Seattle street or through an arboretum full of Fall foliage or through a freeway tunnel? Hell yeah, a little pain was worth all these magical moments.

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