Boston Marathon Part 2

Momenesia, as a mom of 4, I certainly understand momnesia. It is the feeling you get anywhere from 6 hours to 6 weeks post delivery. You suddenly forget the pain of labor and the discomfort of pregnancy and all you can remember is the beauty and the love of this adorable perfect creature that you created staring back at you and despite how many times you have sworn during pregnancy and perhaps screamed during labor pains, "I will never do this again, so don't even ask me" to your husband or partner you know that you might do it again. Because again, pain and discomfort is temporary, but the end result is permanent and worth all of the pain and the suffering in the world.

Why am I talking about childbirth and momnesisa in my marathon post? Because I have a new syndrome called Marathonesia. I suffer from it.

I have been a runner for 1 year of my 37 years now and of course I want my husband to cross that line and come run with me. He keeps protesting stating that he has no time, that he has a knee injury, blah, blah, blah, blah. Anyway, while we were discussing the merits of running the other night he told me that people either finish a marathon swearing they will never do it again or begging for more. I insisted that I would be begging for more.

Let me tell you that at heartbreak hill, I was screaming to myself, "I WILL NEVER DO THIS AGAIN!" It was so painful and long and disappointing. I was disappointed in myself that I could not run the whole way. I was disappointed in the marathon organizers that they had taken down all of the aid stations and tracking times and mileage signs earlier than they said that they would. I was angry that they let charity runners run and did not provide them with support. I was angry with the spectators that they only stayed to support and cheer runners than ran 12 minutes miles or less, there were more charity runners behind me lonely and alone doing this with no support and it made me mad and sad and frustrated.

I had been told, it will be incredible, the spectators get you through. The spectators were there in Hopkington and in Ashland, but once I got to Natick and I was still running about 1 14 mile pace there everyone had gone. Thank goodness for the Tufts gang that were there along with Nik and the kids to still cheer. The crews were cleaning up the water and aid stations, it was as if I did not matter, as if the money I had raised did not count because I was not fast enough. This was painful to experience and hurtful and I am sure some people might have dropped out of the race because of this. It was even difficult once I crossed into Wellesley to figure out which way the course went, but thankfully I followed the trash.

I had resigned myself that morning that I would not quit, I was going to do this. I got 52 texts of support and I had read every one of them and those words from friends and teammates and from facebook posts and the dream of seeing my kids at the finish would not let me quit, nothing mattered but finishing even if it was 10 at night even if I had to crawl. I WOULD NOT QUIT.

So, I kept going, alone and deep inside me, I keep thinking, I am never going to do this again. By the time I got to Boston College, I was severely dehydrated, I could feel the salt on my face, I had not gone to the bathroom or felt the need sine 8am and it was now 5pm or so, my phone was dead and there were no aid stations to be found. I suddenly thought that maybe I Should have brought money to buy water, and hoped that if I did collapse, some nice bystander would call 911 for me.

I found a bottle of water in the curb of a street and it was unopened, I normally would never do this, but when you are that thirsty, I had nothing to lose. I opened it and downed it. A few steps down the road there were cups of gatorade on the street left by some sympathetic water station. I sniffed to make sure no jokster BC students had spiked them and them downed a few. I finally began to perk up by Cleveland circle and then I met up with my friends and it all got a lot better from there.

What is the point of my rambling? MARATHONESIA. I was stunned when I finished and as soon as that medal was placed around my neck. Woosh, all of the pain, all of the suffering, all of the anger and the hurt feelings and the shame were replaced by bliss and pride and yearning. I was so thankful to my coach who waited for me and did not come looking for me, he had confidence that I would show.

I WANT TO DO MORE MARATHONS AND I WANT TO DO BETTER! I need to lose more weight, train harder, cross train more and improve my time. I will take 7 hours for my first one, but in two to three years Boston, I am coming back to get you and I plan on taking you in 5 hours and that is a promise. In the meantime I am going to start picking on some other marathons and races.

I experienced the "loserville" Boston marathon experience, I never got to hear the roar of the Wellesley College girls, I just ran over the confetti and signs on the course, I did not get to sample the fresh orange wedges handed out on the course, I just ran over the left overs. Next time I plan on being fast enough to experience it all!

I OFFICIALLY DIAGNOSE MYSELF WITH MARATHONESIA AND THERE IS NO CURE!