Five Weeks (34 Days) To Go:
Don't expect a lot of pictures in this update, or a lot of updatey-things. But, I promise ALL the feels. So, here we go:
By The Numbers:
35: Days Until the WDW Marathon Expo
39: Days Until the WDW Marathon
114.1: Total Miles run by the four of us over the course of four days
#SquadGoals:
What's everyone up to this week?
These are going to be short, because ... really, at this point - you're at the right mileage or else you're just wishinghopingpraying to make it through.
So, here goes!
M: Up to 36 miles a week with a long run of 19 miles. CRUSHED it. On pace for a sub-4:45 marathon. Bought her Race Retreat as a Christmas gift so she has a place to stretch and get a massage, since she's going for time and will have to wait for us dummies going for "fun".
B: Prepping for a sub-2:00 half attempt at St. Jude this weekend in Memphis. If not, she's counting on
@FFigawi to get her there during Marathon Weekend.
Me: Fell short of my 10K PR by about 3 minutes over Thanksgiving, but feeling strong and great. 10-mile run two days after the 10K was a mess, but mostly thanks to SUPER windy weather. Still under 13:00/mile, so ... no complaints!
My Favorite Things
(One in an occasional series of my favorite things about WDW Marathon Weekend!)
5. "Go The Distance" - My WDW Marathon Story
The 2016 Walt Disney World Marathon was one of the best days of my life. I will never forget it. It's one of those experiences that I never thought I'd have, yet hope EVERYONE gets to experience in their life. I'll do my best to tell the story ... so, here goes:
"I have often dreamed of a far off place
Where a hero's welcome would be waiting for me"
That's me! About a year old - and my mom was really good at masking the cast by always making me wear tall, white socks.
The cast was because I was born with a clubfoot, and in 1981 the only true solution was casting. So, from birth, I got to wear a cool plaster cast to try to correct a birth defect.
SPOILER ALERT: It didn't work.
By the time I graduated high school, I'd had twelve different surgeries just for my foot. I'd had bone grafts and ligaments mined from other parts of my body to try and give me a shot at "being normal". I was finally given a heel from bone of a cadaver, I have an arch thanks to three fusions in my midfoot and quite a few pieces of hardware. I have an Achilles tendon that full stretches thanks to two Zorro-esque cuts in my existing tendon. But all that aside ...
I was told that being able to walk was awesome for me. Running? Nah. Probably not going to happen.
But here I was, 15 years past my last surgery and looking for something to help me get through a hard point in my life. You can read about it here:
12 Months of Medals.
ANYWAY. For 2016, I was planning on running the WDW Marathon as my first-ever Marathon, which I'd been told was crazy because of my foot and everything along with that ... but that didn't stop me from thinking about it, training - and ultimately running a Marathon.
"Where the crowds will cheer, when they see my face
And a voice keeps saying this is where I'm meant to be"
After running my first RunDisney races, I knew that if I was going to do a Marathon, it was going to be here.
**** FASTFORWARDTIMECHANGEAHHHHHHHHH ****
Beth, Sawyer and myself make our way to our corral for the Marathon. I was Corralled in L for the Marathon, so the girls opted to drop back and take on the Marathon from this spot.
The night before, we'd promised each other that we'd abide by the following MARATHON RULES:
- No Crying on Race Day
- Run When You Can
- Walk When You Must
- Mandatory Dance Break at ALL Bands
- Defeat the Yeti
- Nobody Gets on a Bus
So, a quick run-through of the rules and we were all set, on the same page ... and maybe ready to go? B was the only one completely calm at that point, but I was oddly calm ... no tears, no fear of tears.
For the Marathon, while you're in "corrals" they tend to send you off more in "waves" -- once your corral starts moving towards the start line, you need to get everything ready to go - make sure your watch is connected to GPS, etc., because you're basically doing a rolling walk to the start line and then it's off for the Marathon!
Between the three of us, we'd agreed on a conservative walk/run interval given the weather conditions at race start (um, yeah, 74 degrees and 100-percent humidity just after 6 a.m.), so we just made our way through with that - which actually enabled us to stay together and timed out correctly to by-pass large groups of people that had to walk together on our run intervals to get to clear space. At one point, B found an unopened package of Honey Stinger Chews on the ground right before the Magic Kingdom Parking gate, kicked it down the road and then realized "HEY! Those aren't open!". She grabbed them off the ground, stuffed them in her pocket and is now known as the "Marathon Ferret" - we had to stop her from picking up discarded Mermaid-patterned arm sleeves at the TTC.
We wound through the TTC, under the water bridge and then to backstage of Magic Kingdom. I'd told the girls beforehand that this was one of the spots that intervals were COMPLETELY out the window, and that we'd all catch up and all catch up with the intervals at some point. Why?
Because this was our first cheering section!!! My husband and my parents were spread out along Main Street and by the castle, wearing #TeamKeels shirts. The first person I saw right out of the gate was my husband - jumping up and down behind people, yelling "Go Keels! That's Keels! Team Keels! My Wife's a Badass!!!" and I guess I just kept running super hard, because next thing I remember, we're going through the castle and S is grabbing my arm and pointing out my parents right outside the castle! I waved at them and then we were on our way, winding back out of the Magic Kingdom and to infamous "Cone Alley".
"I'll be there someday, I can go the distance
I will find my way if I can be strong"
"Cone Alley" is a tight, tight stretch that runs from backstage of Magic Kingdom, and the between the Magnolia Golf Course and the Grand Floridian. This stretch is replicated during the WDW Half Marathon, but the positive of the half course is that once you hit the gas station, it's straight back to familiar territory at Epcot.
For me? I was about to hit uncharted territory. And instead of heading towards the Clif Gel spot at Mile 9, we took a turn and started to head towards Bear Island Road.
We were still making decent time, at the Marathon Ferret found it advantageous that she picked up those chews on the road as S ended up eating all of her grain bar (**insert head shake here**), so she was down a fuel source. But we settled in to a good routine, which ultimately was the girls would go out faster than me on the interval, and I would run to catch up/pass them and then we'd just keep doing that/trading off who was running with or chatting with someone else while the third did a run interval.
MY goal was to ride Expedition Everest, and that's how we structured the first-half of our marathon plan. So, we hit EE at 9:17 and I have my first panic attack. I WANTED to ride EE, but I was so afraid of being swept ... there was NO line. We could've done it. And ... we kept moving. The girls used a real bathroom, I refilled my bottles on my belt and their bottles, and then we were back off. 14 miles down, 12.2 to go ...
And then you hit the stretch of Osceola Parkway. At roughly Mile 15, it hit me - even though I'd done this distance in a training run before, I'd never done it in a race before ... and maybe it was me going in to race surrealism, but I kind of zoned out.
Until Mile 16. MILE 16 WAS THE WORST. I have no problem saying that. You climb the overpass, with nothing to look forward to. I was hungry, I was hot ... and all I could smell was McDonalds, and all I could see was trampled fries on the road. And I hated EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING AND EVERYBODY. This race was bull. This challenge was bull. This weather was bull. My friends were bull. WHY DIDN'T I JUST HAVE FRIES RIGHT THERE. I told the girls that I was going to take an extra walk minute at this point, because I needed a moment to collect my thoughts, and frankly, I was done.
Me: "My legs feel like lead and I really need to take an extra minute walk right here."
S: "They feel like lead, do they? Well, I bet they'll feel like lead where you're sitting on a bus - so, let's get this moving."
I put my headphones in, and we kept moving forward ...
"I know every mile would be worth my while
When I go the distance, I'll be right where I belong"
And then ... we're at Wide World of Sports, Mile 17. This was what I'd always know was my "telling point" - I'd prepared myself (positively) for the fact that, given where I started in the Marathon, that this would be where I knew where I stood. I know I could finish, but would I finish in the time?
We head into WWoS and all three of us head STRAIGHT to a bench and stretch. It felt AMAZING. That two minutes? Probably bought us 20 minutes.
I like WWoS. I like the snaking, the mix of running surfaces, even the bananas.
I'd researched this route extensively, and knew that this was going to be the telling point for me in this race, given where I was starting. We pop out of WWoS and hit the Mile 20 marker ... and the Mile 17 is empty. The race team is breaking down the water table right before the Mile 20 marker. The DJ is telling us to run as hard as we can if we want to finish.
I. Freak. Out.
I take off like a shot (frankly, like that's going to help in the grand scheme - but Marathon's do crazy things to you), and the B & S catch up to me and tell me to slow down, I still have a few miles to go.
So I walk, reset our intervals, and head back on.
And then a fleet of Florida State Troopers on motorcycles pull up next to us ... and I start to take off again. I run as fast as I can, as hard as I can.
Then, I hear the lead motorcycle call out to me on his microphone "Looking good, you've got balloons four miles behind you! Keep going!"
And I broke my rule - no crying on Race Day.
"And a thousand years would be worth the wait
It might take a lifetime but somehow I'll see it through"
I cried. Like, ugly cried.
S: "WHY ARE YOU CRYING??? KEEP GOING!"
B: "No! This is a good cry! We're going to finish! We're good!"
And then S started crying too.
We hugged, S may have shown her lady-parts to everybody when she ripped off the lace panties she'd been running in at the Med Tent, yelled at them, and then we all trudged on.
At this point, the surprise was out and I knew I would have
@FFigawi to see me at Beach Club. I also knew my husband and friends were outside of the Swolphin.
As we traversed DHS, at some point B & S got separated from me because of the crosswalk procedure. But I had a chance to hug and help another sad runner as she left her friends in the backstage area of DHS.
At this point, I popped my running up the best I could - people were watching and I was ruining their park day! I raced as hard as I could out of DHS, into the bus loop and then ...
"And I won't look back, I can go the distance
And I'll stay on track, no I won't accept defeat"
To the pathway to the Boardwalk. I knew there, at some point, I'd see my husband and my friends ... and hopefully a frosty beer.
And I wasn't wrong!
My friend Adam did a HUGE soccer-style chant about us killing the marathon while I chugged a beer. My husband hugged me, and then started crying (he's not very emotional), and then we were off!
And then not even a half-mile later, there he was ... the guy that got me in to all of this:
@FFigawi. He gave me a huge hug, told me I looked good and to remember that I had to go from UK to France, around the rest of the Showcase, down to the Choir and I was a Marathoner.
A MARATHONER.
"It's an uphill slope
But I won't lose hope, 'till I go the distance"
So, S & I take off (B had left earlier to get a Grey Goose slush for us to share for a short walk), and we meet up with her in France (Mile 25). We share the drink, finish off our water belt fluid, and then decide that we're going to go back to our intervals. So, we fire it up and ...
At the African Outpost, I feel a severe pop in my foot, right at my big toe. I pull up and immediately pull my shoe off and ask if my bones are popping out of my skin (I had a nightmare about that prior to race week - that my bones just up and left my body) - S took a look and said I maybe just had a blister (it was not a blister) and that I should put my shoes back on and we'd just walk until we saw the finish line and then we'd run. Also, that it wasn't a big deal (she's a liar).
So, we walk. My foot starts feeling better, so I say I can run, but the girls hold me back ...
We pass the Gospel Choir singing "Happy", and then we turn the corner and S tells me "If you can run, you should run" ... and I do.
And immediately to my left, I see my parents. My Mom is crying and mouthing that she loves me. My Dad? He's crying and filming everything on his iPad. I run as hard as I can, with everything left I have in me for those last .2 miles. To show everybody that I could do it.
To remind me that I could do it.
So my foot knows it could do it.
I'm a Marathoner
Best. Day. Ever.
Very true.
