The Morning After the Race Before

I can honestly say that I did not get to drink a single beer last night. How disappointing is that? What kind of drunk runner am I? Where is that Kenyan in me? Tonight, I promise, there will be a showing of how we roll.
Why didn't I drink a beer? I was semi-comatose on our couch until nine. I couldn't really eat, so I couldn't really drink. I had the chills, and I was under a blanket. I think the word for it all is- glamorous.
Of course, when I went to bed, I could barely sleep, and at one point woke up completely drenched in sweat, to the point that my pillow and pretty much everything around me was soaking wet. Good times!

But on to the marathon.

We woke up relatively early because of the Japanese Grand Prix, and there are precious few opportunities for us Ferrari fans to cheer on Schumi anymore. We took it as a foreboding sign for the day when his engine blew up while he was comfortably leading with sixteen laps left, effectively ruining his chances for his last championship. Well I took it as a sign, Tessa was too distraught to take it as anything but the harsh, cruel bitch goddess that is reality.
Here are a couple of pics of me before the race. I particularly like the one of me looking over the balcony, peering into an uncertain future, but always pondering my position as the vanguard of so much silliness:


We got to the race a little early. After it occcured to us the night before that the free tickets for public transportaiton that we received would be useless since all of the trams and buses were shut down for the day, we hit upon the bright idea to take the train across town, which got us there with ample time. Which was good, because it took me forty five minutes to cross the starting line. God forbid we sat around for less than two hours :) I was in the very last starting group, and they were VERY diligent about keeping everything spaced out.
The course was beautiful, and the weather was unnaturally amazing. If anything, it was a little too warm for a noon start. I heard a lot of talk that it was 20 degrees in the sun, and there wasn't much shade. I think this contributed to some of my problmes later on in the race.
I intentionally took a slow pace, which might have caused more problems, because I think the shortened stride was impacting my calves harder, whicch really caused problems around mile 17. I sorted them out with some stretching, and got through the 20 mile barrier with relatively little problems. Then, around mile 22, I'm pretty sure I died six times and through some karmic mishap, was reincarnated into the very body I was trying to get out of. My calves were seizing up, and everytime I would stop to stretch them, the stretching would cause my knees to lock up, which made starting up again agony. I finally sat down on a small wall and just massaged the hell out of my legs. The next mile or so was really more of the same. I would stumble, lie down, and massage. I walked a lot, but it hurt more than running. I really wanted to quit. I was getting towards the end of my rope, when I finally found a stride that was tolerable. And I mean barely tolerable. It was the only way I could make my legs move forward without screaming. Which doesn't mean they didn't hurt like hell. They did.
But I ran the last 4.5 K without even pausing. I don't know anything about the crowd, I barely saw the cathedral. I could only look at the ground and block everything else out. Even when I crossed the last corner, I couldn't look at the finish line, because I was scared to get out of what little rhythm I established. Finally, when I got there, I'm pretty sure I started sobbing, but I had to catch myself, because the hysterics were getting in the way of my breathing. It wasn't from hurting, it was from relief, and more than a little pride.
I am, in many ways, more proud that I finished a bad race, than if I had cruised through it easily. A big part of training for, and doing this, was to prove to myself that I had the mental toughness to overcome obstacles, and the resolve to not give up. Maybe if conditions were better, maybe if I was better hydrated, I could have gotten closer to my first goal. Who cares. I knew when the wheels were falling off that time didn't matter anymore, and that's why I turned off my watch. But there were a lot of moments when things weren't going my way, and I finished anyway.
I don't think I could have done it without Tessa there though! She was amazing.
I can think of at least two imes when, seeing her unexpectedly, my energy levels soared and the subsequent few kilometers flew by. She was there to tell me it was okay if I walked the rest of the way, and she was the finish line waiting for me. This was team effort, and she rocked in so many ways. She actually had to show me on a map how she managed to get to so many different positions on the track in such short times, because I was growing increasingly suspicious of either witchcraft or quantum teleportation. Turns out, she's just smart about getting around town.
Anyway, there are too many impresions and litle things to tell right now, so I'll just post some more pics. Since it was in Cologne, you can bet there were some crazy people dressing up, and general fun had by all: