I DID IT!!!

For those of you who are ever on Facebook (or at least, who have been in the past week or so), you already know this, but for any of you who haven't heard, I ran a marathon this last Saturday.

The St. George Marathon, to be exact.

And here, in the words of Paul Harvey, is the rest of the story:

Steve, the kids, my sister Molly, and I drove up to St. George on Friday.  We left early Friday morning, but due to a GPS that didn't know the quickest way to St. George from our little town and some craaaazy detours, we didn't get to St. George until about 5:00--just in time to meet up with my awesome brother, Jayze, who was running the marathon with me, and his beautiful wife, Sarah (can you tell they both read my blog?).  We picked up our runner's packets at the insanely crowded expo, after which we needed to carb up, so where else do you go in order to carb load, but to Olive Garden?

Apparently, a few of the other 7,000 runners in this race had similar ideas, because there was an hour-long wait.

Steve got creative and took the boys to Target, and they returned:

with mustaches.  Because why not, really?

So we all participated in the fun.  Except Sarah.  Jayze was using her mustache as a unibrow.

We ate until we thought we could eat no more, and then we ate some more (at least, Jayze and I did.  The others were more than content to keep the rest of their amazing food in take-home boxes).  I waddled back out to the car, cradling my swollen stomach, and then we headed back to the hotel.

That night was probably one of the longest nights of my life--if you're ever looking for a restful experience, know that it will probably not be found in sharing a Super-8 motel room with your three young children, your teenage sister, and your husband who has hours of studying yet to do on the night before you run your first marathon. After 2 1/2 hours of me singing every song that I thought could possibly pass as a lullaby, approximately 18 tantrums (only two of which were thrown by me, for the record), and 5 hours after trying to get the kids to go to sleep, my alarm went off at the insane hour of 3:00 (2:00 AZ time) in order for my brother and I to get dropped off at the bus loading zone.

 Because there are so many runners in this race, they ask you to get dropped off in town, after which they bus everyone up to the starting line. Steve and Sarah took pictures (they were so supportive and uncomplaining about the insanely early hours--what amazing spouses we have!), and then headed back to the hotels, and Jayze and I clambered aboard the school bus.

 When we got to the starting line (which was up on the mountain), I was shocked to find that it was freezing.  Literally.  A girl standing near our bonfire looked up the temperature on her phone--25 degrees.  Not to mention the bitingly cold wind.
Thankfully, the officials in charge handed out emergency blankets as we came off of the buses, and although the bonfires started to die before the race was supposed to start, a few of us went out in the woods and scavenged enough wood to keep the fires burning long enough that we wouldn't freeze.
Like the rookie that I was, the only things I had brought to keep myself warm were a pair of gloves and a light runner's jacket--I didn't even bring warm-up sweats to wear over my shorts (for the record, I'm not a total idiot--I had looked up the weather forecast, and it had shown a low of 47 degrees.  I call shenanigans). So, for me to say that this was one of the coldest experiences I have ever had in my life would not be an exaggeration in the least.  On the plus side, I was so worried about freezing to death that I didn't have enough time or energy to even think about being nervous for the race coming up--which was actually a huge blessing, because nerves usually tend to be a pretty major issue for me.
The time finally came, we all lined up, and then we were off.  Jayze and I decided to stay together for the first little while, and it was actually really fun to talk to him--we talked, laughed, and stayed together till mile 13, which is when Jayze decided to see if he could break his PR from his previous marathon and finish under 4:25.
My goal was to finish under 5 hours total, so I kept up with my current, slow-but-steady pace, which actually worked quite well for me.
One of the things that I didn't expect was the massive amounts of support from people.  There were posters on every mile post along the road (some of my favorites included: "Chuck Norris never ran a marathon," "Don't poop your pants!" "Toenails are overrated," "Worst Parade Ever," and "Run faster!  I just farted!"), and even towards the beginning of the run, people were out on the side of the road, bundled up against the cold and cheering us on.  Towards the end, it was as though I was in a parade--so many people out cheering with music and posters and balloons.  It was definitely an uplifting experience.
My family came to watch us at mile 17, and my dad snapped a picture of me as I came in for high fives--

Another thing that surprised me about this marathon was that not a lot of these marathon runners had "perfect" bodies.  I kind of went in assuming that I would be surrounded by these tan, toned people who would make me look like the pasty mom-of-three that I was--but I saw several people (many whom had run previous marathons) who were even a little bit chubby!  It was actually very inspiring to me to see that all of us with these imperfect bodies still had enough strength to accomplish something so incredible.
The actual run was really quite great.  Yes, it was hard, yes, it was painful, and yes, I still can hardly walk without limping--but if all of my training runs had water stops and food and people cheering me on every other mile, I probably would have enjoyed training a whole lot more.

 My goal, as I said, was to finish in under 5 hours, and as I neared the finish line, I saw the pacer (a person who has run so many marathons that she knows exactly how fast to run it in order to finish it in a certain time) for the 4:45 marathon time.  I was pretty thrilled to know that I was about 15 minutes ahead of my goal, and within the last 200 yards or so, I decided to try to sprint past her.  This is a picture of me "sprinting" at the end:

Yeah.  I was pretty tired by that point.  But I ended up passing her--and my official race time?  4:45:01.
For the record, Jayze beat his goal time, as well--4:13:47.
Something I didn't expect to happen, though--as I crossed the finish line and got my medal, I started bawling.  Like a big, sweaty baby.
I cried for probably about 5 minutes, wandering around on my own in the runner's finishing area, and then, when I finally noticed Steve calling my name from across the barrier, I went to him, hugged him, and cried for about 15 more minutes.
Apparently, total physical exhaustion makes me emotional.  Didn't know that.

 The rest of the trip is a blur--much much thanks goes out to my fabulously supportive husband and family for taking care of the kids for me (I wasn't walking or moving very well by that point), and Sunday's trip home went much more quickly, thanks to driving directions from my dad, but before we left, I did think to snap a picture of myself with my medal and hard-earned T-shirt:

 And, yes, I did wear that shirt for three days straight.  Don't judge.