Colfax Marathon Race Recap

This post has been a long time coming. And I don't mean that it's 5 days after the race.

See how excited I am to have a bib?
I clearly have no idea what I'm in for. 

When I started running a year ago, I always had a marathon in the back of my mind. I figured I'd get there eventually, and when I decided to run one, it would be this magical experience where everything would fall into place and I would cross the finish line, sweaty, and proud.

In so many ways, this WAS that race. And, yet, it wasn't. I crossed the finish line more than 6 hours after I started, limping, unable to bend my left leg and beyond emotional.
Race day was gorgeous. I arrived at city park at 4:30am, easily found a parking spot and hung out in the car. I was nervous, but not in any way I had felt before. Even though I knew I was about to run 26.2 miles, it was still completely intangible. I had trained up to 20, but it still felt fake. I couldn't fathom or think about what this was REALLY going to be like. I hung out with Jason (who is a great person to help keep me distracted), stretched, bitched about being chilly, stripped down to my race outfit, and entered the corral. I stood there, taking deep breathes, and did my best to NOT think about what was in front of me. Well, not think about how hard it would be. Instead, I let myself get excited. This was really happening. The day was finally here!

Just a little bit nervous! 

They started all of us around 6:00am. I waved good bye to Jason, started my Garmin, pumped up the music and we were off. The half marathoners, full relayers and full marathoners all started the race together, so it was a good little group headed into the sun. At the one mile marker, we split off and started on the epic journey!

Yeah, you don't really get a normal pic from me,
especially when I'm nervous/scared

The first 6 miles felt pretty good. I was clipping along at a comfortable pace which was faster than I had planned, but it's where I felt good. My legs, lungs and heart were all on board and ready to party. The best part of the half of the race for me was running through the fire house. Fire men and women lined the sides and cheered us on. A Colorado flag hung from the entrance and I touched it on my way in. I had the hugest smile on my face and it's the first time tears pricked my eyes.

This was really happening! I was so happy and felt so lucky to be running this race and being supported by all these amazing people! I exited the fire house knowing that this was already one of the best days of my life. We ran by Elitches (a 6 flags park) and towards Mile High. As we got closer to mile high (around mile 6) my left hip started to act up. I've had issues with my IT band and have been going to PT for the past few months to work on it. Once I started to feel the pain, I knew I was in trouble. I ran through the pain, stretched when I could and did my best to keep the pain out of my head. I ran through the stadium, taking in the sites and praying that things would start to loosen up or, at the very least, not get worse.

The pain wasn't too bad yet.
Oh, naive innocent Heather. You just wait. 

Sadly, that prayer wasn't answered. The pain made it's way from my hip down to my knee over the next 4 miles. The stiffness settled in to the point where I could no longer bend my left leg at all. It was right around here that the 5:00 pace group passed me. 5:00 had been my goal throughout training and seeing them pass me was a HUGE blow to my ego, and my heart. I fell into a hobbling rhythm where I would try and throw my leg around and hobble on the right. It worked pretty well, and I kept trucking along. I did my best to keep a positive attitude, have a smile on my face, and thank volunteers as they cheered us on. Having a shitty mind set wasn't going to help me finish, so I pushed negative thoughts out of my mind.

At the 13.1 mark, I didn't know how I would finish. If it hurt this bad now, how on earth would I be able to finish? 2 miles later, there was a God send. We were running through the West Colfax Neighborhood, and they had really gone all out. There were people at every drive way, messages in chalk lining the course, a cowbell inspired man cheering and then, like a beacon in the dark, a couple handing our oranges! I didn't realize that a single slice of orange could be so life altering. That juicy goodness brought me back from the brink and kept me going. Thank you West Colfax. You were a true game changer.

We left West Colfax and got back onto Colfax. I said hello to Casa Bonita again (Colorado mainstay) and kept going. My pace had slowed considerably and I was being passed more and more. During this time, it was my fellow runner's that kept me going. People would pass me, say theyd been trying to catch me for miles and cheer me on as they passed. One man stopped, gave me a hug with tears in his eyes and said, "I've been there and I'm so sorry for you. But you WILL finish this race and you'll have earned it. You'll cry when you see the finishers shoot and you'll know you earned every single step. God bless you." OK, so more tears from me. More and more people told me similar stories as they passed, each one telling me that they were proud of me, that they couldn't do it if they were me, and promised me that I would finish. The brutal miles were made a little bit easier knowing that strangers, people that have done this before, believed I would finish.

Knowing I had these people at the finish line made it a little bit easier

The race took us back the same way we had come and I knew that I had my sisters and Jason waiting at mile 20. For the first time in the race, I cried because I was sad. I was embarrassed that the race was taking me so long, that my family was waiting for me for much longer than they had anticipated, that people would assume they had missed seeing me because there was no way I could be this slow. Mildly irrational, but I'd been running for 4 hours at this point and was at a total low.
A sweet woman about my age started to run with me and we chatted. She said she would drag me to the finish if she had to. She didn't believe that I had worked this hard for this long to NOT finish.

I rounded the corner and started the run down to the stadium. I was keeping my eyes peeled for my cheering section and once I saw them... you guessed it, tears, both happy and sad ones. They cheered like I was in first place, waved their signs and told me how much they loved me and how proud they were of me. Jason looked at me and knew was in trouble. Seeing them was amazing and hard at the same time. The humiliation of my speed seemed to sink in and I told them I was sorry for being so slow. I told them I was sorry and that I thought I was going to come in last.

This is the stadium during the first lap. The second
time around (mile 20) was not NEARLY as composed. 

"Heath, you aren't last. They're cutting people slower than you." This harmless phrase, meant to cheer me up, put the fear of God into me. I was 21 miles in and terrified I was going to be pulled from the race. Not allowed or able to finish the race I'd trained 4 months (more like a year) for. Forced into taking a bus to the finish line I had dreamt of crossing, seeing it, but not actually crossing it. I would be devastated. I'd worked too hard, put in too much time, dreamt for too long to NOT finish. I started to hyperventilate, fear gripping my chest and making it hard to breathe. Not finishing wasn't an option for me. I turned up my music, put my head down, and sped up as much as I could little bit (which is an interesting sight when you can't bend one of your legs). I wasn't going to allow them the opportunity to pull me from this race. 

At a low point, I told myself I couldn't waste such a
fun running outfit on a DNF (I was desperate at this point). 

They told me to shut up (gotta love family) and told me to keep running. My sister's had their boyfriends/fiances with them and they were cheering just as loud. It's just what I needed. I waved good bye, and continued to run. They told me they would see me at Champa, which was about 3 miles away.

I entered the stadium with an unspoken fear in my chest. I was sure that they were going to pull everyone at the end of the stadium and tell them they couldn't finish. I don't know why I had it in my head but I thought they would want to let us end on a high note and then just call it there. Thankfully, I was wrong. Not so thankfully, a cop on a motorcycle began to follow directly behind me, not saying a word. Are you kidding me? Lets give the girl who is anxious, close to exhaustion and tired another reason to freak the ef out! I would look at him, he'd stop, then speed up in front of me, wait for me to pass him and repeat the process. Every time I would catch up, I would expect to hear those NASTY words.

About 4 blocks from Champa, I saw my own personal cheering section again. They were running towards me and told me they were pulling everyone from the race that wasn't to Champa in the next 3 minutes. WHAT?! Is there a reason the cop chose not to tell me this. I'm aware you don't exactly like following behind the girl in hot pink all day, but a little bit of a heads up would have been appreciated! AHHH. So, I did what I could. With everyone by my side, I ran as best I could and I made the cut off. That meant I was safe! I was going to get to finish!

I felt 50 pounds lighter. This wasn't all going to be for nothing. They would give me the chance to prove I deserved this, that I earned my finish. I walked with everyone for a little bit. Whit asked what she could do. I looked her in the face, a small smile on my face, and told her figure out how to make a marathon 24 miles instead of 26.2. "Well, at least you still have your sense of humor," she told me.

The girls peeled off and Jason stayed with me. We chatted, he continued to tell me he was proud of me, and just stuck by my side. It was hard, it hurt but I was going to finish! My friend Amber came out and walked with me for a while with her sweet pup. At this point, it all just hurt. I wanted to badly to be done, to see my parents and to put on flip flops (seriously, it's all I wanted). Well, that and a Coke. Haha

The last miles were completed with hobbled, shuffled steps. They were ugly steps, but I was finishing this. About a mile and a half from the finish, a woman got off "THE BUS". You know the one. it's the one they pick up people who can't finish and take them to the finish line. It's the bus I'd avoided seeing for the better part of the race. "Heather, do you want to get on the bus and have a ride to the finish", asked a sweet woman in a volunteer shirt. My heart dropped. I thought I was in the clear. What's happening? I looked at hear, terror evident on my face and in my voice and asked if I could finish. "Of course sweetheart, we just don't want you to blow out your knee", sympathy clear in her voice. "I've made it this far, I want to finish on my own, please." She nodded, wished me luck, and climbed back on the bus.

Crossing the finish line. 

This part of the course was by the capital area, and people that had already finished lined the streets in the restaurants, beers and food in hand. When they would see me pass, they would clap, cheer me on, and tell me that I could do this. I kept going, telling myself I was so much closer than I was at the start, or even 20 minutes ago. I had this. I could do this. (I need to work on more original mantras).

Entering city park, I knew I was close. The course markers had been taken down so it was just a guessing game at this point. We listed for the music and tried to follow the online map to get me to the finishers shoot. As we got closer, I saw it. There it was. I had made it! Jason told me he'd see me at the finish, and I was on my own. I saw my Dad, waving a sign saying GO HEATHER and somehow found it in me to run the rest of the way. I wanted to finish this race with them being proud of me. It wasn't pretty, but I managed. As I made that final run, I heard them saying my name over the speaker system, telling me and everyone else I was going to finish my first ever Marathon. I crossed the finish line with a time of 6:22.

I earned that medal!

I wanted nothing  more than to sink onto the ground and not move. But I made my way to the sweet woman giving out medals. She placed it around my neck, told me I was a marathoner and handed me a water. I staggered over to my mom, a woman who completed her first marathon after she'd had 4 kids and was in her late 40s, my dad and Jason. I hugged them all (trying not to throw up on them), cried and took pictures. And then, I got to cheer in one last person. A woman who was behind me (the only one behind me) came down the finisher's shoot, running. I cheered louder for her and cried, knowing that this was so special for her and, in that moment, realizing what I had just done. I walked over to her after the finish, hugged her and told her she was incredible and a true inspiration.

With friends that support me like this, how could I NOT finish?

I got myself to the start line. I trained for the race and prepared myself as best I could. But it's everyone else that got me to the finish. It's my sisters (and man friends) and Jason, who cheered me on and told me I could do it when I was at my lowest. It's the amazing family with oranges at mile 15. It was the other runners who told me they knew I could do it. And it's all the people that cheered me on remotely.
It's my friend that waited 3 hours after she had finished the half to see me finish and was more scared for my race than she was for hers. It's all my friends in Chicago who got up extra early to be sure they could wish me luck before the 6am start. I know people say it all the time, but I WOULD NOT have been able to finish without all this support and love. Everything went wrong, and yet I had people who are proud of me and believed in me, especially when I didn't believe in myself.

So, my thoughts? This wasn't the race I wanted. It hurt for nearly the entire race. I don't feel proud of my time or my placing (2nd to last baby!). I wanted so much more from this race and it just didn't happen. But you know what, I gained so much. I pushed through more than I thought I could, physically and emotionally. I busted my ass for the entire 26.2 miles and didn't ever give up. I kept a smile on my face for most of the race, This was the hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life, but it was also one of the most rewarding. As much as it hurt, as much as it wasn't what I wanted, I loved every step of it. I love running and a hard race isn't going to change that. I'm proud of what I did and can't wait to test my limits and run another one (after some serious rest, of course). 

So excited and GLAD to be done. And I am glad my outfit held up :)

It's my friend that waited 3 hours after she had finished the half to see me finish and was more scared for my race than she was for hers. It's all my friends in Chicago who got up extra early to be sure they could wish me luck before the 6am start. I know people say it all the time, but I WOULD NOT have been able to finish without all this support and love. Everything went wrong, and yet I had people who are proud of me and believed in me, especially when I didn't believe in myself.