Breaking Through the (self-made) Wall

"What's your plan?," he asked her on the phone less than 12 hours before the race time.  "I don't know," she whined.  She hadn't given it much thought and she really wasn't feelin' it.  "I guess, maybe... 3:45?, she replied.  "I think you can absolutely run a 3:45, but you need to commit," he stated, "You can't decide at mile 10, you can't wait until it gets tough to decide.  You have to commit from the start to run that pace." 

She fell into a restless sleep that night with his words running through her head.  She knew the course.  She knew how hard a 3:45 would be.  She had been lacking faith in herself for weeks now, for no real reason other than her usual confidence was flailing.   Why now?  She had asked herself over and over again.  She had overcome low self esteem once before.  Why did it choose now to rear its ugly head? 

Race morning dawned at the ungodly hour of 3 am.  Two family members were walking the 10.6 miler and needed to catch their shuttle to the start line at 4:30 am.  After getting everyone ready and boarded onto the shuttle she reclined her seat in the car and set her alarm to sleep for another hour.  When her alarm sounded again at 5:30 am, she knew it was time to start her pre-race preparations. 

By the time 6:45 rolled around she was ready to run though not necessarily in the correct frame of mind.  After standing around without warm-up gear for 30 minutes, she was freezing.  Her hip had been locked up since the moment she got out of bed.  And once the gun sounded, and everyone took off down the road, she tripped on a traffic cone within the first 2 miles and figured it was a bad omen for the day.  With the relentless hills from the start, she didn't bother looking at her watch until 3 miles in.  When she finally did, she realized she had been running at an 8 minute pace.

Hmmmm, she thought, maybe this day isn't going so bad after all.  She decided to see how long she could hold 8's. As the miles ticked by, she took stock of how she was feeling.  Near mile 7 she saw her mom and sister heading down the highway from the opposite direction, heading toward Carmel and the finish line.  They were laughing and having a good time and for a brief moment she thought about turning around and finishing the 10.6 mile walk with them.  Instead she tossed them her gloves and kept running hard.  

There was not a second of flat ground on the course.  It was long, hard, steep hills.  One after another.  She took a gel at mile 10 feeling fatigue creeping in and hoping to boost her energy a little bit.  She kept pushing hard on every uphill, and allowing gravity to do its job on the downhills.  Soon, the 3:30 pace group was around her and seemed to stay with her for several miles.  She played all the mental games with herself.  Thought of every way to stop running, and came up with every excuse why it would be ok.  This is not an A race.  I've got Coeur d'Alene training to continue this week.  I can use my arrhythmia as an excuse.  This is supposed to be a family bonding week, maybe I'll just run it in with WM when I see him come by in his 21 miler.  But she kept running.  She kept pushing through every hill.  

She rationalized that if she could hold 8's through mile 16, she could easily accomplish her goal of 3:45 even if she slowed by a minute per mile in the last 10.  When the 3:30 pace group finally began to put some distance on her after mile 16, she looked inside and saw what she was capable of.  Not just a 3:45, but a new marathon PR.  For the first time, she could see that it was possible.  She did not let up.  She continued to run hard and focused on the road ahead of her.  She never once saw the scenery that the course if famous for.  There were no waves crashing.  There were no photos taken.  There were no smiles.  Singular, intense, focus.  

With 10k to go, she knew the rest of the course.  She knew how many hills she had yet to climb.  She knew how hard she needed to run in order to finish within PR range.  Every breath was focused on the goal.  Every foot strike.  Every heart beat.  One goal.  One combined effort.  She saw others walking.  She saw them stopping to take in the famous fresh-picked strawberries.  She could not stop.  She could not afford to look up, or enjoy the view.  

She ran the loop through the Point Lobos State Reserve, knowing she had 2 big hills left.  With each foot fall she planned how much effort she would exert to make it up the hill with time to spare.  At this point, there was nothing left to give.  No additional effort.  It was all up to gravity on the downhill.  Cresting the last hill, she looked at her watch.  She could hear the finish line in the distance.  It felt like a million years before the banner finally came into view.   The crowd was cheering her on.  Shouting her name, printed on the front of her race bib.  She pushed, the final sprint to make it in under the 38 minute mark.  It was done.  Her final time:  3:37:46.  A new marathon PR.    An honest Boston Qualifying time, on the hardest course she had ever run.  She wished he were there to celebrate with her.  

She hobbled through the food tent and found her family happily chatting and laughing in the shade of the tent.  They were happy for her, but they could never fully appreciate everything she had been through like he could.  The lack of faith in herself.  The doubts.  The uncertainty that she would ever be able to qualify again.  She needed this.  And someone bigger than herself knew that, and gave her the wings to fly.  The courage to get on the start line.  The ability to block the pain.  The energy to do that which she had though was impossible.  But for 26.2 miles, she had only herself standing in her way of achieving her greatest accomplishment.  

The Big Sur International Marathon will forever be the "most scenic" marathon in the world.  It will also be the toughest proving ground, a place where she can revisit in her mind to know what she is made of.  Iron will.  Courage.   Strength.  And a heart of steel.