MCM Recap: A Love Story

Marine Corps Marathon, you rocked my moisture wicking socks.   Like any love story, we had our ups and down, not every moment was a joyous celebration of running. There were points that I regretted you, hated you with every fiber of my being; on the other hand, you probably thought I was a whiny little bitch. Okay, fair enough. And while I'm sure we could have down a few things better (ahem..having non-caffeinated gels), I wouldn't change the experience for the world.

However, all good things eventually come to an end, and it's time to move on. MCM, we had it good, and maybe one day we'll meet again.  But for now, I'm focusing my attentions on your shorter friend - the half-marathon. Don't worry, there will always be a special place in my heart for you, Marine Corps Marathon.  After all, you were my first.

Welcome to the 35th Marine Corps Marathon. Y'all ready for this?

 

Wait for it. This photo is all kinds of sad panda.  After hustling to check our baggage (and accidentally forgetting my Clif Bloks - more on that later), Kim, Dan, and I milled about miserably in the start corrals for 30 minutes or so before the start of the race. Our faces clearly encapsulate the mixture of terror, nerves, and hypothermia we were feeling at the time.

And we're off. The race began on Route 150 outside the Pentagon. Runners stream down the highway, looping through  Rosslyn then heading into Arlington to jump on the Spout Run Parkway and backtrack to the Rosslyn Key Bridge. Phew. That's a lot of twists and turns for the first four miles. The weather was perfect - in the 50s, crisp, autumnal - and the lack of humidity was literally a breath of fresh air after months of training in swamp-like conditions. These first few miles flew and before we knew it we were crossing the bridge into...

I <3 Georgetown. One of the best things about the Marine Corps Marathon? The fact that the course takes runners by my hallowed university. We hit M Street around Mile 8 and were immediately met with a wall of sound, MCM's equivalent of the raucous 1st Avenue corridor at the New York Marathon. Drunk college students, ralliers, rich yuppies, and young families all cheered us on towards DC proper.

 Mile 10. First rendezvous with my lovely parents who ran their own spectator marathon that Sunday, sprinting from point to point to cheer Kim and I on and hand off Gatorade. Ten miles in with the major hills behind us (except for that sneaky bitch at the end...), we were feeling strong at this point, coasting along at a comfortable ~10:15 pace and enjoying the lovely view along the Potomac. At this point, our mindset was more WE CAN STILL  BEAT OPRAH rather than OMFG THERE ARE 16 MILES LEFT. Reality would check-in shortly...

Oh heyhey heart palpitations. Ha. Yeah well clearly I spoke too soon. About those Cliff Bloks I forgot. Total n00b mistake. One of the cardinal rules of marathoning is DO NOT TRY ANYTHING NEW ON RACE DAY. After numerous tests during long runs, I had found that Clif Bloks worked best for me, so I planned accordingly and brought two packets with me to eat during the race. This is all well and good if I hadn't been such a schmuck and left them in my bag.

FML.

Luckily (or so I thought at the time), around the half mark, Marines were passing out free Clif Shots, which Kim and I grabbed by the fistful. I proceeded to down 6 of these babies throughout the race. Poor call. These gels had caffeine in them, something my body was apparently poorly equipped to deal with despite years of training (yay college!). By mile 16, my heart was flip flopping in a concerning manner that was all too reminiscent of all-nighters fueled by NoDoz coffee cocktails. Not exactly ideal running conditions.

Beat the bridge. Despite a minor (okay, real talk, major) freak-out about my worrisome heart after mile 16, we soldier on. Miles 17 through 22 were a bit of a blur, although I do recall some particularly beautiful scenery as we ran past the Capitol and monuments. Kim went ahead right before the bridge as I needed a few minutes to get my heart under control. The 14th Street Bridge was slow going. By this point, many runners stopped to walk and stretch. My pace slowed a bit to reduce cardiovascular stress, but surprisingly my muscles weren't feeling too beat up. This would change in short order.

Mile 23. I REALLY WANTED TO DIE HERE.

Honestly, there are no redeeming qualities about the final 5 miles of the MCM. The 14th Street Bridge spits runners out into Crystal City (really? REALLY??) for the final 10K. There are no pretty buildings to distract on the out-and-back loop, which is only compounded by the constant mental refrain of "ohshitohshitohshit" at the prospect of the final uphill. Sounds like fun right? A healthy sense of masochism and Love Lockdown [LMFAO Remix] on repeat pretty much dragged me through these last couple miles.

FIN. After nearly five hours of running, Kim and I kicked the last 0.2 miles up the hill to the Iwo Jima Memorial, and crashed across the finish line. There is actually a video of my not-so-monumental finish if you're interested...check out the far left side around 11:35. Plodded through the post-race chaos to finally meet up with the gang who were kind enough to pose with our disgusting yet victorious! selves.

Our journey wasn't finished quite yet as we had to walk our carcasses three miles back to Pentagon City and my parent's car. Yay public transportation fail. While it may have been a slightly longer cool-down that we were looking for, you know what, Kim and I hobbled with pride.