26.2 is the new 30

or so says my shirt.

I did it. I finished. I'm done.

Many people are asking me how I did. I'm not sure how to answer that. Do they want to know my time? my rank? whether or not I did a face plant halfway through? Well, I'll answer all of those in the chronology of a marathon below:

Pre race--2 days of last minute runs, sign ins, making commercials for nike, etc. The pre race pasta party was amazing. We entered the convention center, walked across the floor and up the escalators while being cheered on both sides by a line of leukemia survivors and battlers. I almost broke into tears. It was overwhelming.

The starting line-- I woke up at 3:30 to eat my breakfast, a banana. I peed 3 times before walking out the door, just to prevent having to stand in line at portapotties on the way. Wearing my old sweatshirt over my singlet, I headed out into th cold to walk a 1/2 mile to the starting line. Stretched. Jogged in place. Lined myself up with Tiffany's for luck. And then the countdown and HONK, we're off.

Mile 1--we wove through the financial district. I had heeded my coach's advice to take it slow. That meant I walked. Spirits were high. People were cheering. It was still dark.

Mile 2--I don't remember. Somehow I missed it. One minute I started the race, and the next I saw the 3 mile marker. huh.

Mile 3--making the bend toward Fisherman's Wharf. There were cheerleaders here and a water stop. Someone took my picture. I was thinking, who in the hell wants my picture. It was our event captain. Thank God.

Mile 4--Fisherman's Wharf. Coolest thing. The sea lions were all barking. I think they were saying: "Go Kim!"

Mile 5--Ghiradelli Square. Another water stop and a Gwen Stefani look alike. Still dark. Still taking it slow. A little freaked out while looking at Alcatraz when a few spirited people jumped out at us wearing prison garb and clanking pans together. Ha ha! Real funny.

Mile 6-9--The presidio climb. This was the start of the massive hills. We basically wound our way up from 0 elevation to 295 in 3 miles. It was awesome to watch the sun come up over the Golden Gate. Wow. This, btw was the point where my bladder decided to go into hyperdrive. I had to dash off course to find someplace to pee away from cops. I must've lost 15 minutes of time doing so. My running partner for the race didn't make it and peed on herself. She was not happy.

Mile 9--DJ Stop. Again had to pee. WTF? There was a portapotty this time. This was also where I ditched my sweatshirt. This is the point when I started keeping my normal pace, which was actually faster than normal because it was so nice and cool.

Mile 10--ran through Robin Williams' neighborhood. I'm still chipper at this point, except for the urgent need to pee again. Luckily, there was a portapotty right in front of Robin's house, so I used it. Then met up with my coach who said, "I am so glad to see you smiling at this point. You are doing AWESOME on time!" I was surprised by that comment since I had been specifically taking it slow. Then again, I did book it up the hill for 3 miles. Walked, but booked it.

Mile 11--I love mile 11. The entire mile was a plummet downhill to 0. I ran like Phoebe with arms waving wildly. My coach told me to run with big strides in almost a leap. I pulled out my inner ballerina and did split leaps down the hill. Looked like a gazelle. I think I flew! First time in my life I ever did a 7 minute mile. Awesome.

Mile 12. Stretched a little at the water stop to allow my partner to catch up. I got a little carried away. Still feeling fantastic. We're in Golden Gate Park at this point, my favorite part of the course. The only bad thing was that it was a loop, so on the other side of the street, you could see the elite runners at their mile 16. Ah well. There was a fork in the road here, too. At this point, you had to make a quick decision as to whether to bail out to the half marathon part of the fork or the full. We chose the road most traveled--the full. Felt fantastic. Told my partner that I was addicted. We HAD to do another marathon for sure. Whohoooooo! She agreed. Whohoooooo!

Mile 13.1--halfway through. Felt great. Gave silent kudos to coaches for the advice on taking it slow. I have never felt this good at a 13 mile point. The camaraderie at this point was awesome, too. Other than the elites who were focused on zooming past, everyone would wave and yell Go _____ (our names were on our singlets). People would run backwards to help pick up other people and get them going again. It wasn't competitive. It was awesome. I finally loved running. Ran with another coach who said, "You are awesome. Wow. I am really impressed. Keep going."

Mile 14-16--this was the loop back around to where we were at 12. Waved at all the other runners. Cheered. Yea! Whooooooped for a girl whose poster read, "Kick Leukemia's ass." Whohoooooo! Ate my salt tab.

Mile 16--Still feeling fantastic. This was one of the coolest miles. It was a half mile long tunnel with hi def screens on each side, reading your timing chips and telling you how far you've gone, cheering you by name and playing some sort of high energy club music. And then Lance Armstrong appears and says, "You can do it!" I know, Lance. I know! Whooooooooooooo the adrenaline through that tunnel!!!!!

Mile 17--doin' good. doin' good. Blisters kinda hurtin' on my feet at this point, but doing good. Whew! It's hot as hell. What the hell is making me so hot? Damn, it's hot. Wtf? and wtf is that smell? OMG. That stinks. Oh crap, it's the zoo. OMG that stinks, and it's hot. Why is it so hot? We're on the Great Highway at this point. Look down at my watch. We had to make mile 18 by noon or they'd escort us off the course in a cop car. It's 9:57. Wohooo! I will make it.

Mile 18--10:08. Made it. No cop cars for me! At this point I had been running for 4 hours and 38 minutes. Low end average marathoners usually have finished by this point. In fact, I know this because I could see them looping back to the finish line, but that's ok. Actually, that wasn't ok because it was freakin' hot. What the hell? The sun was just beaming down on the left hand side of my face. Damn. In fact, it was so bright I couldn't see anything. Had to look down at my feet to see the road. Freakin' hot. My teammate reminds me that I only have 8 more miles to go. Holy crap. 8??? That is so easy. I can do 8! Energy back. Ate a gu. Doin' ok.

Mile 19--This is the farthest I had ever run. Every step from that point was new territory, and I felt a hell of a lot better than I did the last time I ran it. I felt like I normally did at 10, for gods' sake. Whohooo (a little quieter and more subdued but still whoohoooo). At the end of 19 we entered what was supposed to be the worst part of the course, Lake Merced. Wikipedia has a nice pretty picture of Lake Merced. Trust me, it isn't pretty. We were on the outside running in the traffic, though, so maybe it's prettier when you are inside the tree line.

Mile 20--this is the wall for most people, but it didn't break me. Partner still doing fine. I'm starting to understand, though, why this lake is the worst. No water stops. No entertainment. Just traffic and honking and obnoxious people laughing at you. And the fucking sun! WTF!

Mile 21--partner breaks down. Some guy is playing "Just the Two of us" on a 1980s boombox. Her dad died of leukemia. This was his favorite song. So we stop for awhile and talk about how he knows this is her wall and he's cheering her on. about 10 minutes later, we're up and at it again. Truthfully, I think this little pit stop was the beginning of the end. If I had just kept going, my feet would've been ok, but how can you leave someone crumpled up crying? Plus, she helped my ass get motivated again at 18! And you know, that's what I loved about this marathon. Women were stopping and helping people get through. This was also the Mission Mile. They covered it with signs made by the honored teammates (people with leukemia). Teammates were there cheering us. I choked up here. Really brought home what I was doing this for.

Mile 22--up and at 'em again. Slower. Much slower. Still running, though. Feet starting to hurt really bad. Stopped at an aid station to break open my blisters and salve them. It was like in boxing when they cut your eye and grease it. Kinda cool but not. Send Glinda a text from the aid station: "I can't remember who I am." Back on my feet. Silence all around. Everyone hates the lake. I'm still ok, though. No wall yet. Still going. going. going.

Mile 23--errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr KABOOM! I slammed into the wall headfirst. I could literally feel it. My head felt like it was being sucked into a wormhole. My feet felt like millions of fire ants were stinging them and some oaf was trying to beat up the fire ants with a 2x4 with nails in it. My back hurt to breathe. Some prissy girl with I love Jesus on her shirt who had been uber chipper up until about 22 suddenly says, "I am so sick of this SHIT!" I tried to laugh but it hurt my back. My lips suddenly went numb. I asked my partner if this was normal. She said, "um, I think numb lips are a sign of heatstroke (she says this very slowly and slurred) drink." I drank what was left in my fuel belt. Keep in mind we hadn't had a water stop since 18, so I couldn't refill it. I forgot where I was milewise. The person next to me, oh yeah, my running partner, couldn't remember either. All I knew was that we were still running around the Lake of No Return. Jesus! The half bottle of water helped me come back to life a bit. At this point, my partner says she can't keep up anymore and to leave me. I wanted to stop. I swear I did, but I couldn't. If I stopped, I would stop completely. I couldn't stop. She gave me permission to continue. I did.

Mile 24--big fucking hill. They told me there were no more hills. yet here it is, a big fucking hill. One of my coaches sees me at this point, "Come on. keep going. You're doing great. Great view at the top of the hill." I had to keep myself in check to not say, "I don't give a damn about a great view. i want a chair and some fucking water." Still no water stop, but I was back up on the Great Highway. Great, I realized at this point, meant long and expansive, not fantastic. See, the thing is, cardiovascularly I was ok. I was exhausted mentally more than anything else. Running for that long is taxing on the brain, and now I was alone. I just wanted to stop running.

Mile 25--I can see the water stop. I make it there. Ooops. We're out of water. It's hot today, sorry. we have gatorade, though. Now one would think that gatorade would be a nice alternative. NOT WHEN YOU WANT WATER! Something odd happens when you run long distances. Your body takes over. It tells you what it wants, and it's specific. I wanted water. They didn't have it. I drank Gatorade and started sniffling. I couldn't cry. I felt like crying. My feet were crying. my diaphragm heaved like I was crying, and my throat got all vaklempt, hut the tears wouldn't come. Maybe it was the dehydration. All I could do was whimper quietly, and whimper I did. Coach calls to me, "Come on, Kim, there's a blue box waiting for you." I say, "I don't give a damn about a blue box. I just want my fucking flip flops." But I start shuffling instead of lumbering. They all (random people and coach) cheer, "That's it Kim. Good job. Keep going. Don't let it get you." I run a little harder, still shuffling, though.

Mile 25.5--I see Edgy. He's there to run the rest of the way with me. I whimper a little about wanting flip flops and ask for water. He doesn't have any. I whimper again. He says, "See that tent. It's the finish line. you can do it." I do. I see the tent. I do. it's there, and at the end of that tent are my flip flops. Once I hit that tent I don't have to run anymore. Motivation beyond belief. Edgy stops to tie his shoes and says, "I'll catch up with you. Keep going." And something hit me. I didn't want to run anymore, and if I ran really fast, that not running would come sooner! Yeah! I am going to run fast. Really fast. And I took off like a rocket. I zig zagged around people. People were cheering, "Yeah, Kim! Doing AWESOME. Look at you!!!" I barely heard them. I was breaking the speed of sound.

Mile 26--I see the corral. I enter it. It sucks me in like a black hole. I can't even hear screams anymore. It was surreal, like being on the red carpet at the Oscars. I feel that urge to cry again, and I do sort of but in gasp like whimpers. I cross the finish line in a huge leap, and whimper some more, forgetting to look at the clock or stop my watch. I get my blue box from some man in a tux and realize that i didn't lift my arms in a Y (Sorry prax). I'm done. I can walk. I'm done.

Post race--I can't describe the horrible mess afterwards. it's like you're on a moving sidewalk at disneyland that takes you to get a shirt (which you hope is the right size) and get your chip taken off and takes you to get your half sandwich and chips. I didn't think I was hungry until I took a bite. Then I inhaled my lunch. Edgy caught up at this point saying, "jesus. That was fast. Holy crap, when did you learn to run like that? I tied my shoe, looked up and you weren't even in view." All I knew is I wanted out of this hell. OMG it was crowded and awful. and then we had to climb a fucking hill to the bus.

Now it's been 2 days, and I finally am able to understand what it is that I just accomplished. Houston alone raised $400,000 for Leukemia, and the event raised $18.4 million together. This year alone, TNT has raised $600 million. And I ran a marathon. And I'm going to do it again.