I've already been up for 15 minutes - I can't sleep anymore. It's not that I'm even that nervous, my body just won't let me sleep. I got up and tip toed around Jeff, asleep in the other bed, and put on my gear. I even put on my sunscreen and Vaseline and began drinking water to hydrate for the day.
I spent quite a while out on the balcony, watching golf carts full of Marathon volunteers zip around the street below and even did some yoga to help relax. The biggest challenge of the morning so far has been, since we are up so early, there is no breakfast service. Jeff and I thought ahead and bought some cereal and milk last night (that's my standard breakfast prior to a run), but we didn't think about how we would eat it.
So, I've been attempting to eat Raisin Bran in a hotel water glass, using the paper lid as my spoon. I'm worried I may not have the amount of food in my system that I should - but what else can I do?
Last night, before bed, I started my glucose sensor to wear today so I wouldn't have to carry my glucometer. It's been having a minor freakout since I woke up but seems to be doing alright. The lights are on in the room now, so Jeff must be waking up. We are due to meet the team downstairs in half an hour.
I can't believe it's almost here.
Sunday, December 13th, 4:30am Honolulu Time:
We've finally arrived at the starting carrells - err, well, the washrooms really.
We walked for at least twenty minutes, and the sea of people washing out of the hotels and into the street towards Ala Moana Blvd was unbelievable. Again, hearing that approximately 30,000 people are participating is completely different than seeing them all, along with their cheering squads, heading for the starting line.
Along the way, my sensor decided it didn't want to work anymore. Yeah, talk about bad timing.
Since we were already on our way to the starting line, I didn't have my glucometer with me, or the chance to go back and get it. So, I will be running the entire race without a method of knowing what my sugar is doing, except my common sense and general physical feeling (which isn't always accurate when your legs feel like jelly because of running for so long).
Jeff offered to turn back and get the glucometer, and since he's basically carrying his entire life in a backpack, he probably could have carried it for me. I was just too afraid of losing him in the crowd, and now that we are here, I'm semi-glad I made that choice. He never would have found me.
And yes, his whole life. Jeff has decided that eating is very important to him, so has packed several bagels and other snacks in his bag. I'm just hoping that the other Team D participants don't think he's carrying this backpack for me!
So, we arrived at the starting carrells which are basically big banners hanging from lampposts indicating your estimated finish time. Our trainer suggested starting in a group faster than you anticipate finishing in, as many of the runners overestimate their abilities and will supposedly pull back before we reach Diamond Head or the 10k marker. Normally, it is suggested to start in a carrel slower (so the adrenaline doesn't cause you to run fast and burn out) but this crowd is so large, that would involve a lot of dodging eventually, and by moving ahead, one hopes to decrease that.
People are literally shoulder to shoulder with each other, covering the entirety of this 3-lane road and spilling over the curbs. Luckily for my crowd-anxiety, we weren't going to stand there long, because we were headed for the washrooms! We've been standing here already for about 15 minutes and we still have around 12 people ahead of us in line.
Myself and a few of the Team D teammates are getting a little anxious that we won't be through the line in time for the fireworks display. They keep making announcements for it - I don't know! I'm just glad that I don't pee much when I'm running because I won't have to fight these line-ups during the race!
Sunday, December 13th, 7:30am Honolulu Time:
We're on our way up Diamond Head Crater - the start was unbelievable. I had to hold my hand over my chest several times because I was so overwhelmed by what was happening. Everything I had done over the past 6 months was coming to a pinnacle, the race was about to begin.
The fireworks display was unlike any I had ever seen before. The colours were gorgeous, the size gigantic, and the various styles of fireworks were inspiring.
The adrenaline was buzzing through the air as everyone knew the end of the fireworks marked the start of this huge undertaking. In front of Jeff and I in our starting carrell was an elderly couple, probably in their mid-70's, tightly holding one another's hands in preparation for the first few steps.
As the fireworks ended, the crowd slowly started moving forward. I mean slowly. Based on where we were in the carrells, we probably had at least 10-15,000 people to get through the starting line ahead of us. All the same, that initial movement got my heart racing. Twenty minutes later, we were finally crossing the starting line. The crowd started to pick up speed as we crossed the mats, and a relentless ringing noise filled the air as hundreds of timing chips crossed the starting line in unison.
The first little while was simple, the crowd was so thick that I could only run at a fraction of my normal pace, which permitted me to run for a longer time period. The frustrating part was that people who were just walking would be in the middle of the crowd and we had to keep dodging around them. I'm sure, by the end of this, we will have done several miles beyond the requirement just trying to get around the walkers and people stopping to take photographs.
There were a lot of photos to take initially though - great Christmas lights and sights around Honolulu. And it was nice and cool and an easy start overall - aside from the cramp that refused to go away. I kept stretching it out, but nothing seemed to help. I promised Jeff once the sun came up I would pull off to the side and stretch since I would probably be ready for a break once it got a little warmer, but I'm actually feeling good now.
We just passed the 10km mark, slightly ahead of my anticipated time, and are working our way up the biggest incline of the race. We have a good bit of motivation under us, as we just saw the men's Elite runners, including Patrick Ivuti, the expected winner and record breaker, coming back down the route towards the finish line. All the runners pulled over to the side of the course to cheer him on, and watch his graceful stride - so cool!
Unfortunately, since the route is doubling back on itself right now, the track is pretty narrow, so it's getting crowded again and is pretty slow going. Soon though, we'll have a downhill and hopefully we will break away from some of the slower movers.
Sunday, December 13th, 1:30pm Honolulu Time:
I can hardly believe it - we are in the final mile. We are heading down the hill where, at sunrise, we had seen the Elite runners going by. We are here. We are actually finishing this.
This really is a big deal, not only for all the reasons you know that it is - but just before the mile 14 marker (just past half-way), we were getting ready to start another run interval. As my right foot landed on the asphalt, it was like a nail was being driven into the inside of my heel. The pain dropped me where I stood.
It was mid-morning and getting very hot, so I tried not to cry as I pulled off my shoe. I had to see what was going on with my foot. I figured, if it was a blister, I might be able to pop it with one of the pins from our bib numbers, and that would kill the pain. If it was anything else, I needed to know for my own diabetic health.
Well, it was a blister, but it was calloused over to the point that popping it was impossible. Nerves must have been exposed or something because even a light brush with my fingertip sent pain coursing through my entire body. Jeff suggested I try putting my shoe back on, that perhaps the pressure would help with the pain. I couldn't get my heel in the shoe.
The blisters had been building since around 10km, and we had stopped at several aid stations for moleskin, antiseptic, anything. All they could offer me was Vaseline for the friction. I wanted to shake someone and say "the friction has already gotten me!"
So, when this calloused blister or whatever it was, wouldn't let me put my shoe back on, I knew it was over. Jeff agreed to wait until an official came along so that I could get shuttled back to the starting line. There was still half a marathon to complete - if I couldn't put my foot in my shoe without screaming in pain, how could I walk even one more mile.
Sitting there, feeling sorry for myself, being utterly incapable of stopping the tears from flowing down my face, a feeling came over me.
I have been preparing 6 long, grueling months for this day. Hundreds of people have contributed their time and money to help us reach our goal, but many people back home are still doubting my ability to really accomplish this feat. How can I legitimize coming all this way, going through all that trouble, to go home and tell them I only made it half way.
I put the tips of my toes into my running shoe, rested my heel on the back of my shoe and literally tip toed an entire mile to an aid station. For anyone who can't comprehend that distance, the average person walks at 3 mph, or more simply, can walk a mile in about 20 minutes. Tip-toeing I imagine would be about half an hour. :)
Finally, this aid station was truly able to help me out. They sat me down, took off both shoes, wiped Vaseline over the entire heel, taped a large bandage over both heels and wrapped it in medical tape to secure it.
Unfortunately, by the time we got moving again, the tip toeing, and the sitting, had both caused my legs to severely cramp up. We agreed that if I planned on finishing this marathon, I was going to have to walk.
Even this became a challenge as my step technique impacted the pain in my feet from blisters or the pain in my leg muscles from the cramping. The last 4 or 5 miles now, we have stopped at least once per mile to sit on a bench, where Jeff, the hero that he is, has massaged my legs before we keep going.
Equally, these pauses have helped us have some really neat experiences! We met a man who is in his 80s, running in full coveralls and a straw hat, who had run in the Honolulu marathon ever since he was 18. We also saw a near accident on the highway as we crawled along on the curb, and several people trying to overcome their own marathon day challenges.
After several litres of water, one bathroom stop (a huge challenge when there is no toilet paper left, some 20,000 runners have already gone through them, and you have no working leg muscles to SQUAT over the toilet!), at least 10 cold wet sponges from aid stations, and countless (lying) volunteers shouting "you're almost there!" - we're actually almost there!
Within the next half hour, we will be crossing the finish line.
Within the next half hour, I will have done EXACTLY what I said I would do.
As we crossed mile 25, Jeff offered me another high five, as he has every mile and kilometer marker we've passed. I've begged him to let me run the last mile, but rightfully so, he doesn't want me collapsing so close to the end. So, since he spends so much time doing what I ask/tell him to, it's only fair that right now, I do what he tells me to.
And even if we're walking, we just passed a guy running backwards. At least we beat him. :)
I still can't believe that we're in the last mile.
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