taking a run down marathon lane – #2.

As I mentioned the other day, I’m looking ahead to my goal of completing 50 marathons by the age of 50, making my plan, giving myself pep talks, and air high-fiving myself at the end of my training runs.

I thought it would be a good idea to analyze my special brand of crazy take a look at how I got here.

So here’s a little story about

MY SECOND MARATHON:

June 6, 2004
Rock n’ Roll Marathon
San Diego, California

I ran this marathon with a colleague/friend of mine and her mom (it was the first marathon for both of them). Since all 3 of us were running, we don’t have any photo proof of us ACTUALLY running the race, and also, I never buy the race pictures that are taken because 100% of the time my beet-red face looks like it is about to self-combust, or I am about to die, or both.

For the sake of argument, let’s just say this is me, crossing the finish line in first place:

Alright, it’s not REALLY me, but I like to pretend in my head that there’s a ribbon I’m triumphantly breaking through, to the sound of a cheering audience. But, this photo is partially accurate, because my hair ALWAYS look that good after running 26.2 miles.*

*Disclaimer: totally false.

OK, let’s move on. Here’s a shot of San Diego, looking pretty much nothing like it did on the course. If your curious minds want a really thorough and entertaining account of the actual course and event, head over to this great blog.

That gal is one of my very favorites on the interweb, and while I may or may not border on slightly stalkerish when it comes to being a follower, it was a total coincidence that we both posted on the same marathon on the same day.*

*Disclaimer: Skinny Runner, if you’re reading this, I promise that you will not find any boiled rabbits on your doorstep.

For the most part, the run itself was just “meh”. Not earth-shattering, or particularly interesting. BUT, it was a great feeling as always to FINISH and to not be a “newbie”. It was nice to know what to expect. Like when the chaffing would start, and which toes are blister-prone. That sort of thing.

Also, nailing an exact-to-the-second finish time is the stuff of dreams for a Type-A personality with a healthy dose of neuroses.

I’d say the most challenging part of the experience was enduring the massage I’d booked for the next day. Not because I was sore (I was) but because this lily-white Pacific Northwesterner overlooked the SPF and was lobster-baked after exactly 4:30:00 hours in the Southern Cali sun.

In summary, I managed to cross “Drink a margarita, poolside” off my to-do list today.

What are you up to? I’d love to hear from you!