Well, yesterday was a very big day around here. After months of training and preparation, the time had finally arrived to put all those miles and meters to the test. It was with a jubilant and beatific heart that I supported my husband as he ran in the OC Marathon.
As you can see, this was no local community event. Nearly 30,000 people, some journeying from as far as New York, turned out for the race.
With that said . . . I believe I have earned the right to brag just a smidge. Yes? For what kind of wife would I be, if I didn’t boast a little, right? And this being Michael’s first half-marathon, I am ridiculously proud of how well he did. Below are his stats. The goal was to come in under two hours, which he did! Yay, Michael!
Would it be terrible to say I am proud of me as well? This weekend marks my earliest wake-up call EVER, rousing at a dismal 4:15 in the morning. It’s a deplorable time of day, I assure you. There was no rising sun to greet me, no pastel-hued sky, streaked with oranges, pinks, and yellows, and there were no melodic birds to sing me a wake-up song. Mist, drear, grey, and dark — this is 4:15 a.m. I would not have had it any other way, however; for one being the very fact that, with any long-distance activity, where distance and stamina are imperative, one must “prepare” by partaking in something called “Carb-loading”. And, being the self-sacrificing wife I am, I supported my husband in this, too. Here is a peek at what we had for dinner the night prior.
Shrimp Bistro Pasta
Linda’s Fudge Cake
It was not easy, mind you, but I suffered through every bite.
After our bellys were full, it was time to tuck ourselves into bed for a good night’s sleep. Or try to sleep, anyway; we were all pretty jazzed. I’ll tell you, 4:15 came with all the splendor of a root canal. But alas, moaning and vacillating, I trudged my way toward the bathroom, dunked my head in the sink and assembled my bleary self in an impressive twenty minutes.
Below are a few pictures of the day.
And they’re off!
After dropping Michael and his sister off at 5:30, we headed straight to Kean’s for a cup of eyelid-prying coffee, not above pressing our enervated cheeks against the glass when they wouldn’t grant us entrance a minute before 6:00.
Coffee in hand, we quickly got back into the car and made our way to a look-out point where the runners would be passing by shortly. This is at mile 7.5. My stud is the strapping man in the yellow shirt, black shorts, with the black-pack strapped to his chest, desperately trying to break away from the bottlenecked herd! He even managed a small smile for me. Or is that a grimace? I can’t tell . . .
Run, my love, run!
run ~ A very short clip of Michael crossing the finishing line. I would like to apologize in advance for the obnoxious and obscene woman shouting in the background; she simply loves her husband very much.
He finished! Check out that medal!
So proud of you!
I cannot help but laugh as I look at this picture. Take a peek at my hand. Do I love my husband? Yes. Do I want to touch his disgustingly sweaty body at this point? Not so much.
Michael’s sister, Kristin, on the left, and his mother, Susan, sandwiched between her exorbitantly tall children.
Michael’s training buddy, Aaron, and his lovely wife — and my dear friend — Tiana!
Mother and son.
After the sudorific activities had come to close, and our marathoners had showered, it was time to EAT. (On his phone, Michael has an app that stats how many calories he burns on a run. On this run alone, he exceeded 1800!) Anyhow, we left the decision of where to eat up to them. And they chose . . .
The Lazy Dog Cafe! Michael and I dine here almost every weekend. Fabulous food, atmosphere, and if you have a dog, you’re welcome to bring him/her along and sit on the patio. They have a great selection of beer, too.
And what did Mr. Maraonther himself choose as his post-run meal?
Why, a hamburger and french-fries, of course!
What a day . . . The whole experience of being there, cheering on someone I love dearly, surrounded by others doing the same, was somewhat heady. I can see what makes an avid sportsman avid. Additionally, I was very inspired by the variation of people who came out for this event. There were some men and women well into their fifties and sixties, who, might I add, were keeping up, if not surpassing, those significantly younger. I am a firm believer of long-term health; the way you treat and care for your body in the early years, will have a great impact on how good (or bad) it feels later on. I exercise regularly and eat well, not only because I desire a healthy appearance, but because feeling good is important to me. Running a marathon, though? . . .
May I be honest and tell you that quite literally scares the gum drops out of me? I don’t think I could do it. There were complications at my birth; the umbilical wrapped around my neck, which brought about an emergency C-section. I believe this may have affected my lungs and breathing. Holding my breath for any longer than 15-20 seconds is painful and when I sing I must consistently gulp for more oxygen. My IT bands (the tendons running along the side and front of the thigh) are tighter than guitar strings. This makes running very difficult.
I don’t run. It hurts. Badly.
However, I deplore the word “can’t” fervently. And I suppose if someone would have told me three years ago that I would someday complete a 750 page novel, I would have thought them mad. My God is not a God of can’t. Anything is possible through Him who gives me strength.
So . . . I am thinking of beginning to train now, in preparation for next year’s half-marathon. Truly, this would be a great challenge for me, but to do this with my husband would be something I doubt I would ever forget. I shall indeed pray about it.
How about you? Is this something you have done? Would ever do? Is there a goal in which you need to push yourself toward? I would love to pray about that if you’ll let me.
Happy Monday/Tuesday, my friends!