A very long, soggy 26.2

On October 4th I ran the St. George Marathon with my dad and my sister.

Or perhaps I should say I ran the first two miles with them before they took off ahead of me...

At any rate, it was a good experience, though not one of my better memories. It was my second time running this marathon, so I was pretty sure I knew what to expect. We arrived at the starting line in a little place called Central around 4:45 a.m., anxiously anticipating the 26.2 miles of road that separated us from ice cream, finishers' medals, and leg massages. It was cold, and 6,500 runners huddled around fires to keep warm. I had heard reports that it was supposed to rain that day, but I'd been told that it wouldn't start raining until later in the afternoon.

That was false.

About 30-45 minutes before the race started, the rain started. It was just a drizzle, but it came down steadily. People started rushing to the aid station to get garbage bags to keep dry, but by the time my dad, my sister and I got there, they had run out. Almost everyone was dripping wet before the race even started. Nevertheless, we crossed the starting line in high spirits, cheering and pumping each other up for a good race.

We ran together for the first two miles or so before Lauren and my dad took off ahead of me and I lost them in the sea of garbage bags and short shorts. I had planned on this happening, so I settled into my marathon pace and kept going. I was fairly optimistic about my pace; perhaps the rain would keep things cool and then let up after the first five miles...

It became obvious to me that was not going to be the case by mile six or seven. I was freezing, and the rain was still going strong. I didn't realize until attempting to unwrap a Clif bar on the go that I had lost most of the motor skills in my hands. I could do little more than hold a section of a banana and rip off the peel with my teeth to eat it.

At the next aid station I grabbed a stick with a glob of vaseline on the end and smeared it over the backs of my hands to protect them from windburn. It helped, though I still couldn't use them for much more than holding a banana or a cup of gatorade.

Around mile 16 a sharp pain shot through the sole of my left foot and slowed me to a very painful walk. I started cursing myself for not buying new shoes before the race. I knew that these shoes were getting near the end of their life, and it didn't help that they were soaking wet and squished every time I landed on them. Ten more miles to go, I told myself.

That ten miles seemed like an eternity, especially since I was trying to do it with plantar fasciitis in one foot and a growing case of tendinitis in my right leg. You should've trained better, Kellie.

By mile 19, I was barely shuffling my feet to move forward. I might have started crying, but I couldn't distiguish the tears from the raindrops that kept sliding down my face. I entertained the thought of waving down the medical shuttle at the next aid station and riding the rest of the way down. But then I thought of all the people who knew I was running this race, and they all expected me to finish. I expected myself to finish, though I already knew I was not going to beat my finishing time from last year. For some reason, my pride wouldn't let me quit.

When I made it to the outskirts of the city with only three miles left to go, some sort of animalistic determination kicked in and, though I was limping, I ran. I'm sure I looked quite fearsome with my teeth clenched and my eyes fixed like lasers on the course ahead of me.

Coming down the chute to the finish line was amazing. It was still raining, but I knew I was almost there. I yelled and waved my hands in the air as I crossed the finish line. I walked over to a lady who was giving out the finishers' medals, and gave her a hug (even though I was soaking wet). It was a bittersweet experience, because I came in 13 minutes slower than my previous marathon time, but I had finished nonetheless. My dad and Lauren were there at the finish line waiting for me. None of us could walk very well, so we shuffled around the park to grab some food and pick up our clothing bags, shuffled out to where our car was parked, and drove home.

By the way, it was still raining.

I think I'll try to do it again next year.