Well folks, we finally did it! Both my big brother and I successfully completed the 2009 Disney Marathon, but I have to say that it was neither very fun nor very pretty. Who knew that running 26.2 miles could hurt so bad?? Wait, YOU did? Well, why didn’t you say something! Just kidding, just kidding. Here’s a run down of the days events supplemented with photos from my friend’s camera phone.
So, our day started at 3:20am. We had to be down at the Epcot parking lot by 4am to get our bags checked in and to make our way down to the starting line, which was about a one mile walk from the parking lot. When we got there, my first impression was one of disbelief that so many people had signed up for this thing. It’s amazing what a swarm of 20,000 people looks like. People were sitting, standing and pacing everywhere you looked and they were dressed from the normal (like us) to the extreme (think Disney characters on crack). To accommodate all of the people, there were hundreds of port-o-pottys lined up every couple hundred feet. It was all very strange.
After we got to our assigned corral (you were put in one based on estimated completion time), we had about a one hour wait until the start time. So, we had a seat to rest our legs. The time went by pretty quickly and before we knew it, they were getting us ready for the start. The energy there was amazing. You could almost feel the buzz coming off of everyone. I know for my brother and I, this journey started last March and we couldn’t believe that it was finally race day.
Here we are waiting for the start of the race.
The official started the countdown and with a burst of fireworks, the race began. There was a huge surge forward from the crowd as everyone was ready to start running and then we were off. My brother took off ahead after about a half mile since his average speed is much faster than mine. The first couple of miles were a blur as we expended a bunch of energy maneuvering around slower people. It was such a contrast to my training runs where it was just me and the open road. This was like an obstacle course. By the end of the race, the GPS watch registered that we ran more than 27 miles and most of that excess was from all of the back and forth we did trying to get around people. I must say, the walkers that were in the middle of the road were very annoying. Running rules should follow road rules – slower traffic keep to the right.
My friend and training partner, Kasey, suggested that we hit up a port-o-potty around mile 2 before we entered Epcot. Remember, we had been sitting around for an hour and, at this point, we had been awake for 3 hours, so nature called pretty early into the run. This was my first source of frustration. We had to wait in line for 5+ minutes to use the bathroom. That adds up considering that we needed to relieve ourselves 4 times during the race (that’s 20 minutes just standing around!) Some women were not so patient and were literally peeing on the side of the road. While I’m not the most inhibited person in the world, squatting in the bushes in front of 22,000 strangers just didn’t seem like a viable option for me. Call me crazy.
After our bathroom break, we quickly rejoined the race and headed into Epcot. This part of the race, the part in the actual theme parks, was total mayhem. The running path narrowed down dramatically and there was just a backlog of people trying to navigate the twists and turns. Epcot was a complete blur to me. Also, it was really hard to hold back our pace. There was so much adrenaline and anticipation, that I think we went out faster than we should have. Before we knew it, we had exited Epcot and were out on the road that lead to the Magic Kingdom. We were on this stretch of highway for about 4 miles or so and then we were gearing up to enter the Magic Kingdom.
At this point (mile 10 or so) we felt great. It really felt like we were just out for a walk in the park. I was aware of my ankles, but they weren’t hurting yet. Running through Magic Kingdom was nice. There was a huge crowd of people on Main Street cheering us on and it seemed pretty surreal as we wound our way through the park and then through Cinderella’s castle.
(Courtesy of Kasey's husband)
(Still feeling good at mile 12)
Before we knew it, we were back out onto the highway and were headed to Animal Kingdom. As we passed the halfway point, we were still feeling okay, but the sun was coming up and it was getting pretty warm out there. We had completed most of our training during the pre-dawn hours and didn’t anticipate how overheated we would feel in 70 degree weather. As we neared Animal Kingdom (around mile 16), my ankles started to hurt and I got a little bit panicky. We still had 10 miles to go and I’d had enough experience to know that once the pain started, it only got worse…much worse. But, we were in it for the long haul, so I pushed the pain to the back of my mind and we kept on going at our steady pace.
Animal Kingdom was different from Magic Kingdom because there were far fewer spectators there. We still had the narrowing roads, but the runners had thinned out a bit by this point so there wasn’t as much frantic weaving going on. I also noticed an increasing number of people had switched from running to walking. This is where the going got tough for most of the runners, us included.
We headed out of the Animal Kingdom at mile 17 for the long, desolate stretch to Hollywood Studios (formerly MGM). This stretch of the run was about 5 miles long and was done entirely on black asphalt. It was nearing 80 degrees and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It was dang hot. I switched from water to PowerAde as I saw runners falling out of the race left and right. They were laid out on the curb with medics on bikes tending to them. It was a small reality check of how grueling this distance really was. This was also the point where I started to lather myself with BioFreeze at the medical tents. (BioFreeze is a numbing agent that takes the edge off of the pain.)
(That's BioFreeze in the cup)
I have to admit, this is where it became a game of mind over matter. It was hot, my ankles were throbbing and I remember thinking, “why did I ever think this was a good idea?” The desire to just stop was pretty strong, but I kept picturing the finish line and my medal around my neck and having to answer to all of my supportive family and friends. Most of all, I kept thinking about Carol and the millions of others who had battled and lost their fight to cancer. Well, let’s just say that quitting wasn’t an option. My focus turned to trying to block out the pain and as weird as this sounds now, my mantra during that stretch was, “pain cannot kill you.” At this point, I was just desperate to get to the 20 mile marker and once we passed it, some of my concern faded away because even if I had crawled the last 6 miles, I still would have made it.
It’s funny how our goals change so quickly. During the first handful of miles, we were optimistically aiming for a 5-hour completion time. Kasey had even printed out a nice armband that showed what our splits needed to be to achieve that goal. I literally tore the armband off and threw it away at mile 15 once it became clear that we weren’t going to reach it. By mile 20, we just wanted to finish. That was it. Just finish the race. We were no longer competing against 22,000 other people, we were only competing against our aches and pains and we would be damned if they got the best of us.
(Tower of Terror)
By the time we entered Hollywood Studios, the pain was almost unbearable. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I was fighting tears. Each step sent a jolt of pain up my leg. It felt like someone was stabbing me with an ice pick. We started taking walk breaks every half mile or so, but pretty soon, walking hurt as badly as running did. This was not good. My brain was almost numb with the pain and my poor friend Kasey (who was battling her own aches) could tell how much each step was costing me. She was a great motivator and it was so nice to have someone there who had literally run hundreds of miles with me already. We were going to cross that finish line together no matter the cost.
For the final stretch, we left Hollywood Studios and ran through the Boardwalk hotel before re-entering Epcot. The last couple of miles are a blur to me, but I think that’s because my brain was trying to block everything out. It was all I could do to keep moving and this was pretty shocking. This hadn’t happened to me at all during my training runs, but I had never run the full 26 miles before. I had read a quote that said, “the first half of the race is the first 20 miles and the second half of the race is the last 6.” I could not have said it better myself. It’s amazing what a toll the last 6 miles takes on your body. I could tell that mine was very close to just shutting down. I had lost the blood flow to my hands and my temperature kept shifting from hot to cold. It was very disconcerting. The only thing I can relate it to was natural childbirth. Each step was like a bad contraction and while I knew the end was somewhere down the road, I couldn’t figure out how I was going to hold on long enough to get there.
By the time we got to Epcot, we had about 1.5 miles to go. I didn’t mention this before, but our race bibs had our names on them. It was quite the boost every time a spectator or Disney employee would call out, “Keep it up Cynthia! You’re doing great!” This personalization was really helpful during this last stretch. I’m sure that I had a grimace of pain on my face (Kasey kept looking over at me with concern) and it was nice of the folks in the final stretch to offer whatever encouragement they could.
We started a pattern where we running 100 yards and then walking 50 yards in an attempt to get to the finish line faster. In the beginning of the race, we were forcing ourselves to take walk breaks when we didn’t need them. At this point in the race, we were picking out landmarks that we could see. “Let’s run to the next bend in the road.” “Let’s start walking at the third light post.” We could no longer think of the next mile. The idea that we had more than one left was just overwhelming so we took it a handful of steps at a time. When we had a half mile to go, we just started running with everything we had left (which, sadly, wasn’t much). The desire to cross the finish line was overwhelming. By the time I saw it, I had tunnel vision. My brain computed that there were bleachers with cheering people, but I didn’t see them. All I saw was the huge “FINISH” sign…and then we crossed it.
(This was just after the finish line and I have no recollection of taking this picture)
As I stumbled to a stop, all I felt was overwhelming relief. My poor, ragged feet were screaming at me and I had a hard time following the instructions of the staff. “Please come over here so that we can remove your time chip.” “Please come this way to get your medal.” I literally shuffled from station to station just willing myself to continue moving forward.
Now that I’m one day out, I can say with absolute certainty that the hour immediately following the race was the most painful. It was all I could do to remain standing. It hasn’t really sunk in yet that we actually finished the race. I think I’m still too caught up in the emotional aftermath that follows a big event. This was a monumental feat for me. I mean, I started out not being able to run more than 2 miles before I was flat on my back with pain and exhaustion. By the way, my brother totally killed the marathon in a mind-blowing 4:03. To say that I’m proud of him would be a gross understatement.
This has been a crazy journey and at the present moment, I’m not sad that it’s over. It will be nice to run for the fun of it without worrying about staying free of injury or illness. That’s not to say that I plan on getting sick or hurt anytime soon, but I had an overwhelming fear that something would happen to prevent me from finishing the race and that I would let down the dozens of people who contributed more than $1600 to the Livestrong Foundation. It was a bittersweet finish that Carol did not make it to see the race, but I know she was watching and I didn't want to let her down. Thank you for all of your support and for sticking around to read about this crazy ride. While I wait for the last of the pain to wear off (so over the next decade or so) I’m sure I’ll find something else to focus on. My friend Karen is trying to get me to do the half Ironman and while it’s too soon for me to commit to anything, I’ll probably consider it.
