The Big 3-0

Post Marathon. I'm 30! 

It's true. I am no longer a "young" lady and have officially entered just being a lady. I am now 30. It really hit me when I was talking to my mom about the Tetanus shot I had received recently and said that I wouldn't have to get another one for ten more years, or until I was forty. Forty!? It's only ten years away! *gasp* I'm THIRTY!

I hadn't planned on doing anything huge until around Christmas 2011. I was tossing around ideas with my personal trainer and my husband as to what to do for my thirtieth birthday. I wanted to do something that represented how hard I worked to get to where I am today. 58 pounds lighter than I was two years ago, fitter than I have ever been in my life, and excited about new possibilities.

I decided to run a FULL marathon.

Crazy, I know. I had run four 1/2 marathons in the past year so I was fairly confident in myself. If you would have told me three years ago that I would run a full marathon on my thirtieth birthday I would have laughed at you. Ridiculous! What planet are you from!? But, despite what I would have thought three years ago, I decided to find a run that was somewhere near my birthday.

After spending a little time online, I discovered that my favorite marathon series (Rock 'N' Roll Marathons and 1/2 Marathons) was holding a marathon, one of the ONLY Saturday marathons they offer, in Seattle ON my birthday. It was meant to be. Most marathons are on Sundays, so it was a miracle in itself that I would get to run one ON my birthday. Before I could change my mind, my husband signed me up as a surprise. I was in it now! No time to change my mind. It was on!

Anxiously I awaited February 17th, the first day of my training. I started out slow, running only a few miles, but throughout the training I had time trials, tempo runs, intervals and LSD's (Long Slow Distances) to run, slowly gaining strength. I cannot thank my husband and loved ones enough for the tolerance and support they had for my schedule and my needs. Everyone was supportive of my goal. Dates with my husband, outings with friends, and any other social obligations.  were planned around my runs. It was going to be a long 18 weeks.

I would be out running sometimes up to 4 or 5 hours on a Saturday or Sunday, often starting around 3:30 or 4:00 AM. I was tired, but supported and encouraged every step of the way. The hardest runs were the ones that were over 13 miles. Once my long slow distances were above that, I would get discouraged, emotional and my mind would get in the way of my body's capabilities. Another difficulty was the weather. As my training progressed into those longer runs, my dehydration issues kicked in even harder. We bought a Camelback backpack, gatorade powder, energy gels, protein bars, protein powders and more. I still suffered at times, but my training was able to progress.

Once I hit some longer runs I had a friend talk to me and ask if I wanted someone to meet me in the last 10 miles or so of my long runs to finish them out with me. She had done a marathon in the past and understood how much it became a mental game toward the end. She was a godsend. I am not kidding. Without her, and the three other friends who joined me on my few remaining, long, tiring runs, I would not have made it through nearly as successfully. They brought laughter, support and distraction from the aches, pains and mental breakdowns. I will forever be thankful to the four AMAZING ladies who helped me pull through the hardest training miles.

As the weeks progressed and the race was only a few weeks away, I hit some setbacks with an achy foot. The pain would not go away. One day my hubby took a look at the bottom of my shoes and was shocked at how worn out they were. We realized I had run over 500 miles on them since mid-March! It was only the end of May! Three months and over 500 miles. I am still not sure today, but I believe that my foot problems stemmed from those shoes. Evidence:

Left: 500 mile shoes  Right: New shoes

The new shoes were like night and day. I was amazed at how much cushion and support had broken down in my old ones. My training runs felt so much better. I had heard a million times not to get new shoes so close to the race, but I had to. I did it anyway and I do not regret it for one second. It made my last runs bearable and I didn't once get a blister or ache from any of it.

The day arrived. We were in Seattle and my parents, my hubby's parents, my husband and I were all making sure I was in bed on time, proper dinner in my belly and all of my clothes and supplies prepared the night before. I think I was asleep by 9:30. I woke up at 4:30, took a shower (I know, weird, right?) and put a Lidocaine patch on my foot for the awkward pain, got dressed and choked down half a bagel with peanut butter and a bottle of water. I was as ready as I was ever going to get. I had everyone ready and out the door at 6:45 so that we could be at the start line, (1/10 of a mile from the hotel) and the waiting began. 

My husband and I pre-race

My nerves were on high, but that is why it was so important I was there early because my nerves had settled by the time the gun fired. I was off. 43 minutes after the official first gun, my corral crossed the start line. I felt great, no foot pain, fresh legs, good mindset and support along the course. I had parents, in-laws and husband at mile 13.1, friends from the area at mile 17/18 and my family again at mile 23. The hardest moments? Miles 15-23, the best moments? Miles 6-10. The worst section? The hill at mile 5. The best part of the entire race? Crossing the finish line.

Mile 13.1 came and my mom and dad fueled me with orange slices and my entire family with cheers and support. Miles 17/18 my friends were there with signs and cheers, urging me to pick myself up and run again after a walking stint through a rather rough patch. They brought me out of my frustration to look like this: 

Between miles 16 and 17. Look at that smile! 

Mile 21 brought me out of a tunnel and into pouring rain, which lasted the rest of the run. Mile 23 hit and I was suffering. My husband ran up the hill at this point with me and encouraged me throughout the rest of the run, keeping me positive and uplifted. As I came around the final corner, I all but shouted at a poor lady "HOW MUCH FARTHER?" Her response was a quarter mile and you are done! I came around the corner, saw the horrible hill ahead of me at mile 26 (seriously!? Who plans these things?) and the finish line just beyond. The tears began. Crying ensued from that point on for about the next two hours. On the run up the hill I saw my husband running along the sidewalk. Thinking he wanted me to run it in, I sprinted (which means I ran a smidge faster than the previous shuffle-run) across the finish line. "Up next is Cory Flagg from Goodyear" the announcer proclaimed as I approached. Sobbing commenced. They handed me a foil blanket, which I wrapped around my quaking body. I was crying so hard I was hyperventilating and wheezing a little bit. I couldn't speak, and as I approached one of the ladies holding the medals, it took her a while to realize what I was doing. "Oh, you don't have a medal yet, do you?" All I could do was shake my head. She congratulated me and placed the medal around my neck. I headed to the exit to find Matt. I could barely speak as I hugged him. I was wet, cold, and could barely stand. I had to keep moving.

Done and barely standing. Proud and emotional moment!

We headed back to the hotel where I promptly took a hot shower. I was so cold that when the hot water hit me, it was cold by the time it hit my feet. Within an hour, I was dressed, warm, walking again and on my way to dinner with family and friends. 

I had done it. 

My once far-fetched dream was a reality. I was a marathon finisher. In a time of 5:54:05, I had run, walked, trotted, persevered, suffered, triumphed, inspired others, and finished a 26.2 mile marathon. 

Someone in my favorite running documentary "The Spirit of the Marathon" said, "Once you cross that finish line, your life has changed forever." Absolutely, without a doubt, 100% true.

I am in my prime. 30 feels good. Not just good, GREAT. Bring it, 30! 

Now, what am I going to do when I turn 40?