#5. “You might as well have a good time.”
After I began asking myself what my active beliefs were, I realized I had a belief that I shouldn’t be walking, shouldn’t be in that pace group, shouldn’t be “this terrible,” and what the hell was that doing for me? Absolutely nothing.
The PR had gone out the window in mile 10. I had sworn it might happen because I cried “start line tears,” which happens every time I set a new personal record. Turns out, the start line tears were deeper than just a fast finish time. These “start line tears” were about personal growth, depth, love, and connection. In the moments of introspection, I thought about how if it was to be this way, I “might as well have a good time.” (That comes from a CSN song on their album “Daylight Again.”) I started high-fiving people. Smiling at all the kids. I began taking photos, and videos. I realized that I “go dark” in so many of my races, and never see the sights and sounds. I’m typically so focused on my inner world, I don’t get to see anything. At turtle pace/low effort, I could really take it in. For example, I had to get a pic of this dude.
I stopped and helped a runner who fell in mile 24ish. He thanked me a few times, but then a few paces later, turned around for a final expression of gratitude. I put my hands on my heart and smiled, a brief moment of connection, and I watched him speed ahead. I hope he felt my love.
At mile 25, Mario was waiting. Mario… yes, the one I was having some trouble with that I wrote about. We have had many beautiful days together since and moved through our difficult experience to a much better, more elevated place. Mario and I have a deep love for one another. You have to when you know someone and continue to love them for a third of your life. I didn’t expect him on the course, so I was surprised when I heard him yelling “YOU GOT THISSSS! YOU GOT THIS!” I kissed him, and he said in my ear “You’re gonna do it.” I cried. By that point, the walking had ended, as did the IT band pain, and the cramps. I was able to keep in consistent motion, even if slow. That was nice. I just kept smiling, cheesing at every photographer. This is me in mile 26, turtle pace (you can see it on my watch,) but the happiest I’ve ever been in the last mile of a 26.2
It says 26.37 because due to my inefficient running (staying to the outside because of the walk breaks, the port-a-potty break, stopping to massage my IT band on the side, etc), I ended up running 26.47.
Fun fact: Marathon courses are measured by the shortest distance a runner can complete the course. Efficient runners run as close to that as possible. In Chicago, they have “the blue line,” that they paint on the street, an exact 26.2. Any extra distance (running too much on the outside, passing people, etc) all adds distance. Regardless of how much distance you run, you only get credit for 26.2.
Sometimes, the experience doesn’t go the way you planned in your mind. What else is here for you in the experience?
This was my second-slowest marathon, but… it was a good time. My quads hurt like a motherf##ker from that concrete, and what a good time. In the most elementary delivery, a good time is had only in your mind. It has nothing to do with external circumstances because one can perceive them in a multitude of ways.
“First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is.”
What is the experience? For me, this one was:
Smiles
Laughs
Connection
Acceptance
Gratitude
Love.
Stay beautiful.
