The run - the whole truth and nothing but the truth, with some stuff left out.

Where do you start when you want to tell folks about one of the most amazing experiences you have ever had. It's like explaining how it feels when you hold your first child, there are no real words to express what goes on inside your head, in your heart, in your body. I'll try to lay out the events for you in the best way I can.

The night before we went out for the traditional carbo loading meal. It wasn't great, and it didn't stay in my stomach, but it was a good time anyway. We went to a super kid friendly place so Yacob could scream his little heart out and you could hardly hear it above the din. Doug and Sue were there and we talked politics and family and overall, it relaxed me a great deal. When I get stressed, I internalize a lot of it, but it comes out in angry burts, so of course the person nearest and dearest to me got the angry bursts. It shouldn't be like that and now that I'm aware, I decided I will talk about my anxieties instead of holding them in until I explode like a stupid volcano.

Once we got home and got the boys to bed, I worked on my shirt. Because of poor planning, I could only get my name on the front. I didn't leave enough time for the paint to dry to write anything about Annabel on the back, which is a shame. At least I should have pinned a picture of her to my back, like so many others did. It was really a sea of folks running in honor of someone else. I suppose that's one of the reasons why it's called 'The People's Marathon'.

I expected to have a tough time getting to bed, but I slept like a baby. Yas gave me his room so I could get a solid night's sleep and I got up at 3:15 a.m. since I thought for sure I had slept through! I went back to bed until 4, when I got a wake up call that I'd signed up for through Saturn. It said something like "Good Morning! It's RACE DAY. You've been training for this day for so many months, and now its here." It was actually quite nice.

I got up, turned on the coffee and just puttered around for a bit. Yas was my morning crew (Schlub, officially) and he got up too. We drank coffee, I took a shower and got dressed, grabbed a bagel and a few bottles of water and we drove over to the metro station. There were several folks on the 5:15 am train, but it wasn't overly crowded. We are out of the way, to some extent, so I can't imagine that a lot of people would stay in Dunn Loring. Everyone was quiet, very introspective. Oh, and it was COLD!! I had on sweats, a hat (with my visor over it) and gloves. I also had on a long sleeved shirt (the last of my maternity gear) over my running shirt. It was still cold.

Yas and I chatted for a while on the metro, got off at Rosslyn to change trains and the platform was packed. There were hundreds of people getting ready to run in this race, and you could feel the excitement and nervous energy all around. We got off the train at the Pentagon and still had about a mile walk until we got to the Runner's Village where they had a bag drop off, free coffee from the USO, and about a trillion pora-poties. It was at the Runner's Village where you have your first taste of Marine organization. Those of us with bags walked to the right, where about 50 marines looked inside the bags and got us through in 20 seconds. They were all friendly, fun, and sooo efficient. There was bad music playing over loudspeakers, people stretching, and just a general feeling of "something exciting is going to happen soon" all around us.

The bag drop off was another incredible experience. There were about 30 UPS trucks manned by Marines and UPS workers. Each runner was given a very large, clear goodie bag at the Expo and we had our bib numbers and truck number on a sticker on the bag. All you did was walk up to the truck, and give them your bag. No lines, no nothing. It took 2 seconds. Again, Marine precision and organization.

At 7:20, Yas and I made our way to the starting corrals. I wasn't sure where I'd fit, but I figured it would be safe to go with 5:30-6:00 hours. I stood around and folks were chatting with each other, it seems like a lot of people were running in teams or with partners and I was pretty much alone. But you know, not alone because there were 20,000 other people there. The cannon went off at 8:00 and we started moving almost immediately. I really wasn't even ready for it! We walked for a bit until we got to the starting mat and then I started a light jog - 4/1. I was committed to my training plan no matter what. On the other side there was a guy in a Teddy Ruckspin mascot uniform and another man wearing a suit juggling. There were men, women, old people (and I mean REALLY OLD) and younger folks too. There was one guy whose t-shirt said he ran in a marathon in every state in the U.S. and province in Canada. There is a group called the Marathon Maniacs, there were Teams in Training for every cause, people running for loved ones they'd lost in wars or to cancer. There were people (like me) running for those who were alive and were hoping for treatment, cures and research. All around you saw that even though these people were running to prove to themselves that they could do it, they were running FOR something.

The first 3 miles were easy and I think I could have gone faster, but this post isn't about hindsight, its about how I felt when I was there. I was afraid. I was afraid I wouldn't finish so I held back just a teeny tiny bit. At mile 3 I saw Doug and Sue and felt a huge surge of love and gratitude that they were there. We came around a bend and saw the river with the fog lifting off of it, it was beautiful.

I'm going to be completely honest here. I didn't see much of the course. I didn't know where I was half the time. I was following the crowds and my mind was blank and focused. I only know that I was counting down the miles - not to the end, but to the bridge. Here's what I remember from the actual run:

There were some hills, none of them seemed too horribly bad except one at mile 8 where we turned a bend and it went straight up. There were 2 points where you saw runners coming back the other way. This sucked because you didn't know at what point YOU would be the one coming back the other way and when you got the other way you realized just how slow you were and just how fast the others were if they were already that far ahead! The marines were incredible. They yelled and cheered and called my name at every water stop and along the way. The crowd was stupendous. People on their front porches, on their lawns, out on the mall and the Smithsonian - man, that was amazing. Zary! Zary! Looking good Zary! Great pace Zary!!!

The water stops were tough to navigate because they seemed so dangerous! If you look at the pictures you can see what I mean. What was even worse was the orange slice stop!! It was soo slippery!

Haines Point was as long and boring as I'd read about. It's pretty desolate with not a whole lot of spectators. There was a woman playing "Tequila" on the Tuba and I yelled out to her "YOu ARE AWESOME" and she laughed while playing. I high fived a whole bunch of people, gave out the peace sign, and had an amazingly, wonderful, fantastic time.

Okay, the bridge. I needed to beat the bridge. If you don't make it to the 14th Street bridge (mile 20) by 1:15 you get on the stragglers bus and you lose. You are done. So sad, too bad. I needed to make the bridge. I asked a marine if we were on pace to make it and he said "hell yeah". At that point I was doing 12:40 and was feeling great. I made it to the bridge at 12:25 and that's where it all fell apart. I think I just crapped out mentally. I thought okay, I can do the rest, no big deal. But, I also really started to hurt, my knees and hips were aching. I wasn't cramping yet, but I felt it coming. Someone described the bridge as a scene from a Zombie movie, and I couldn't agree more. More and more people were walking, some hobbling, a lof of folks were stopping to stretch overworked muscles. I decided to start chatting with folks and really slowed down a lot. The bridge was never ending. Right before the bridge there was a sign that said "THEY ARE ALL LIARS. YOU ARE NOT ALMOST THERE" It's so true. So what if I'd just run 20 miles, I still had 6.2 to go!!!!!

The last stretch is a blur. I ran, I drank powerade, I had some jelly beans and GU, I had a pretzel, I said neh to the beer given out by the hashers, I grooved to the Brazilian all girl drum band (they are freaking awesome) I had an entire fraternity yell out my name at mile 22 AND mile 23, I saw my family just before the finish and stopped and ran a few feet with my mom and gave my sons huge hugs and kisses, I beat Teddy Rukspin, I gave my last tylenol to a woman who said she was really aching, I met a guy who had really hurt his foot who was determined to go on, and a soldier named Wilson who was running in gear. I saw the folks with the yellow pom poms from my online Active community, I saw that I was gonna finish. I saw that I was gonna finish. I saw that I was gonna finish a freaking MARATHON!!!

At the finish I took off my hat and waved it in the air and let out a big OOHRAH! To the marines. I got a bottle of water from a soldier, got a medal put around my neck by another one, got a space blanket from a volunteer and then got my official finishers photo taken. I hobbled to grab a food bag and ate a banana quickly, and promptly felt like I was gonna toss it back up. I walked to pick up my bag which was as easy as dropping it off, and talked to a woman who'd run many other marathons about what to expect in the next few days. I then walked to the family link up and met everyone.

We hung around for a while but it hurt too much to do anything at the finish festival so we waited in line for about 20 minutes for the metro (which was a zoo!) Got home, ate some Chinese and slept most of the day. Once on Wooster Court (with my medal around my neck) I started singing "Take THAT Wooster Court, I finished a marathon and YOU didn't" Drue walked me to the back of the car and handed me an enevelope with a "26.2" magnet for my car!!! Whoohooo!! Now I don't need to brag cause my car can do it for me.

I think that those who say they could never do a marathon underestimate themselves. Unless you have a real physical limitation, there is NO ONE who can't complete a marathon. All it takes is the will and resolve to do it. Of course not very many people can get up one morning and run a mile if they've never done it before, but just like with everything else it takes patience and dedication, and a little bit of a mental problem.

As far as experiences, I think I've said it already. I would do it all over again tomorrow. Well, maybe not tomorrow, but I already am planning on doing it again in March!

xxoo