I did it. It wasn’t pretty, or even very pleasant, but I finished my second Buffalo Marathon yesterday with a respectable time and no trips in the ambulance - I consider that a success.
The week before the race I was right on track. My training had been going pretty well, I was getting plenty of sleep and just starting to ramp up my eating and fluids. I had a strategy that I hoped would allow me to beat my time from last year (4:16) and I felt confidence. That’s when I got the stomach bug. I knew it was floating around my classroom because both teachers I work with had both been out sick during the week but I thought I might be strong enough to fight it off. No such luck.
Going into Sunday’s race I hadn’t been able to eat much or keep much down and Gatorade was giving me sharp stomach cramps. Unfortunately, one of my greatest assets as a runner is my ability to eat while I run. My typically steel stomach usually is happy to accept Powerbars, energy Gu, fruit and Gatorade during a four hour run. This talent keeps my muscles happy and energized long after the starting line. But now I had a problem. Not only had I not been able to fuel up the days before the race but now I couldn’t risk eating during the race either. More than anything I wanted to finish, not end up double over in Delaware Park or camped out in a port-a-potty. So I kept my fingers crossed, sipped water and sucked on jellybeans as I plodded through each mile. Not surprisingly, before I got to the halfway mark I could feel my leg muscles protesting and my IT band tightening up on the edge of my knee. I poured some water over my head and just kept moving forward.
Then I turned on my secret weapon, The Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother by Amy Chua. The book had just been released as a audio book at the library and I snapped it up and put it on my ipod. Soon I was lost in Amy Chua’s interesting, honest story about parenting her Chinese American daughters. My legs moved on autopilot as I mulled over Amy’s choices for her kids and I thought about all the mistakes I have made as a mother and all the things I was going to do better if I survived the morning.
When I started running, a few years ago, I noticed that during my long practice runs it helped to have something consuming to listen to, it allowed my mind to leave my body for a while, to take a trip and forget about how I was feeling physically. So I started “saving” the books that I really wanted to read (or listen) to enjoy during a marathon. Strangely enough, the hours spent running became a treat instead of a punishment. When else do busy working mothers get to listen to great books without interruptions? Soon I had heard all the best sellers and improved my running times.
The miles ticked by as the story unfolded. Amy recounted her obsessive mothering and explained her daughter’s conflicted responses in stories that sounded eerily familiar to me. I laughed out loud as she explained her long term goals for the family dog. Before I knew it, I rounded the corner and saw mile marker 21. Only five more miles to go and I felt like I was running on burning toothpicks that were ready to give out with the next step. I put Amy on hold and went to Eminem for help. Thankfully a surge of adrenaline washed over me as he screamed for me to keep going “Till I Collapse”. I got tough, copped an attitude and sang along with him, ignoring the strange looks of the people on the street as I shuffled past mile marker 25.
During the last mile I turned off my ipod so I could soak up every sight and sound of the experience. Now I knew I would finish, I knew I had pushed myself beyond the limits of what I thought I could do and reached a new milestone. I never felt so great and so terrible at the same time as I ran toward the finish. The loudspeaker announced, “Here comes Brooke Harris with a big smile on her face” and I sprinted weakly to the line while the strangers in the crowd cheered wildly.
Pride and sweat poured off me as I limped back to the car and head home for a hot shower and a nap. Amy, Eminem and I had done it.
The week before the race I was right on track. My training had been going pretty well, I was getting plenty of sleep and just starting to ramp up my eating and fluids. I had a strategy that I hoped would allow me to beat my time from last year (4:16) and I felt confidence. That’s when I got the stomach bug. I knew it was floating around my classroom because both teachers I work with had both been out sick during the week but I thought I might be strong enough to fight it off. No such luck.
Going into Sunday’s race I hadn’t been able to eat much or keep much down and Gatorade was giving me sharp stomach cramps. Unfortunately, one of my greatest assets as a runner is my ability to eat while I run. My typically steel stomach usually is happy to accept Powerbars, energy Gu, fruit and Gatorade during a four hour run. This talent keeps my muscles happy and energized long after the starting line. But now I had a problem. Not only had I not been able to fuel up the days before the race but now I couldn’t risk eating during the race either. More than anything I wanted to finish, not end up double over in Delaware Park or camped out in a port-a-potty. So I kept my fingers crossed, sipped water and sucked on jellybeans as I plodded through each mile. Not surprisingly, before I got to the halfway mark I could feel my leg muscles protesting and my IT band tightening up on the edge of my knee. I poured some water over my head and just kept moving forward.
Then I turned on my secret weapon, The Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother by Amy Chua. The book had just been released as a audio book at the library and I snapped it up and put it on my ipod. Soon I was lost in Amy Chua’s interesting, honest story about parenting her Chinese American daughters. My legs moved on autopilot as I mulled over Amy’s choices for her kids and I thought about all the mistakes I have made as a mother and all the things I was going to do better if I survived the morning.
When I started running, a few years ago, I noticed that during my long practice runs it helped to have something consuming to listen to, it allowed my mind to leave my body for a while, to take a trip and forget about how I was feeling physically. So I started “saving” the books that I really wanted to read (or listen) to enjoy during a marathon. Strangely enough, the hours spent running became a treat instead of a punishment. When else do busy working mothers get to listen to great books without interruptions? Soon I had heard all the best sellers and improved my running times.
The miles ticked by as the story unfolded. Amy recounted her obsessive mothering and explained her daughter’s conflicted responses in stories that sounded eerily familiar to me. I laughed out loud as she explained her long term goals for the family dog. Before I knew it, I rounded the corner and saw mile marker 21. Only five more miles to go and I felt like I was running on burning toothpicks that were ready to give out with the next step. I put Amy on hold and went to Eminem for help. Thankfully a surge of adrenaline washed over me as he screamed for me to keep going “Till I Collapse”. I got tough, copped an attitude and sang along with him, ignoring the strange looks of the people on the street as I shuffled past mile marker 25.
During the last mile I turned off my ipod so I could soak up every sight and sound of the experience. Now I knew I would finish, I knew I had pushed myself beyond the limits of what I thought I could do and reached a new milestone. I never felt so great and so terrible at the same time as I ran toward the finish. The loudspeaker announced, “Here comes Brooke Harris with a big smile on her face” and I sprinted weakly to the line while the strangers in the crowd cheered wildly.
Pride and sweat poured off me as I limped back to the car and head home for a hot shower and a nap. Amy, Eminem and I had done it.
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