2011 Myrtle Beach Marathon: The Recap

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Sole Sisters the day before the raceAnother marathon on the books.

Here's the short version: Hot. Flat. New PR!

Here's the long version: 

This was my first marathon without Blair. Instead, I traveled with my Sole Sisters--six "hot fast women" (painted on our car)---to Myrtle Beach. I was worried about not having Blair waiting for me at the finish line. I'm typically in intense pain for the first 40 minutes after a race and Blair all but carries me around. Surprisingly, I finished in good form. I kept moving after I crossed the finish line and while I was stiff, I was walking around after the race with little difficulty.

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Myrtle Beach Marathon - I Can Hear the Clock Ticking

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Today is Monday. This Saturday, I will join close to 7,000 runners at the start of the Myrtle Beach Marathon. The marathon and half-marathon both begin at 6:30 am. I was not happy about freezing my butt off at the early start, but the forecast is for lows in the 40s and highs in the 60s, so now I'm quite happy. I've been training in snow and ice. A too hot day will destroy me. Let's get in there and get this thing run before the sun really comes up. 
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Body Falling Apart? Must Be Time to Race

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I'm exactly three weeks out from my marathon. This Sunday is the last (thank you, God) 20-mile run and then we're in a taper. 

Having gone through 13 weeks of training at this point, you would think I'd be in top form. Not at all. Instead, my body is falling apart on me, one piece at a time. 

There's a constant twinge behind my left knee and in the front where the thigh joins the pelvis. My glute muscles are one massive block of tightened coils that refuse to release. My right forearm aches and Thursday morning I pulled a muscle in my lower back. 

Far from being disturbing, all of this indicates that I'm ready to run my race. 

This is my pattern. A few weeks out from a marathon, my poor overworked body puts its foot down and says, "Enough." Everything starts hurting. I start to question if I'm in any shape to run 26.2 miles. 

Now it's just a matter of simple negotiation. I start pleading with my body--begging--to hang on just three more weeks. Just three simple little weeks. Then you can go to pot, with my blessings. In the grand scheme of life, what is three little 'ol weeks?

My body will toy with me, feeling better one day, then the pulled muscle (I expect) will come screaming back the week before the race. That's okay. I'm not freaking out. I know that for whatever reason, this is what my body does. It's a bit of revenge for 16 weeks of speed work and tempo runs. 

I'm doing my part with ass peas and heating pads and I've made an appointment on Monday with my chiropractor to take a look at my back, even though it is feeling much better. 

Three weeks. Hold it together, girl. Just three more weeks.