MARATHON LADEE

I am sitting here Babeefree, drinking some iced tea, and an icy/hot patch wrapped snug around my knee.

Today was supposed to be my day of rest..but knowing me, I'm washing a load (of laundrey foolz), soaking the dishes to be washed, straightening up the whirlwind my Son left in his wake, and contemplating hitting the mall to redeem some Christmas gift cards.

Hmm..the day after the marathon is not too bad.

My knee is hella sore, but I expected that it was going to give me some problems during and after the race. Other than that, I'm not feeling too shabby. My throat is a bit scratcy, and I have that cough you get after you work out really hard..ya know, the kind that starts when you start laughing and keeps goin...

Anywho..the Marathon rundown yo..

The night before I was running around trying to get all my stuff together. My gel packets, my icy/hot patch, my brace, couldn't find my stopwatch, and still hadn't started on my playlist..all in all, I was kinda bitchy. LOL. Luckily D-man knows how I get when I get nervous and itchy...he tolerated my dramatic ass and gently found all the things I was looking for. Blessed I am. Put my bootie to bed around 10 with my Victorio, we slept like babies..well he is still a babee but you know what I'm saying. I loved that..I think I needed to be near my Son, to feel his love and to remind me where my focus was and put things in perspective. I woke up the next A.M. to his little babee arm curled up on my chest and my hands wrapped around him. "sigh" ..what a great way to start the day of my marathon.

Got up around 5:30, later than I wanted, but luckily the night before I had laid out all my gear and had marked the bags I would be giving my family already packed with my goo, gatorade, and additional clothing. Washed my face, ate a powerbar, water, banana, and some dry toast. I was so not into eating, but I forced myself, as the nite before I ate some kickass spaghetti by the D-man and was still kinda full. Got dressed in my Nike dry-fit longsleeved white tee, red shorts (of course), $10 wetsox, my purple asics (of course), and tied my hair back as tight as humanly possible. Got our jazz loaded and speeded off into the still dark morning. Made it to the spot at 6:50 and lucked out and grabbed a prime parking spot. It was so kool to see all shapes and sizes walking around with thier blue and yellow racing numbers. (blue was for the half-marathon and yellow was for the marathon). I gunned it for the bathroom and got to see the inside about 20 minutes later. It was so funny waiting in line for the BR, I asked this dude..about 35? where the start for the marathon was...he was like the half-marathon? with this superior smirk on his face. I was like MARATHON FOOL..He looked taken aback and said over there...checking me over...I scratched my face and gave him the finger. Mean I know...but daym!!

No biggie, I still had 20 minutes to play with and stretch out.

Anywho, me and my entourage(HA HA) of two men walked over to corral 6. I tried to stretch out, braided my hair and put on my red bandana, drank some last minute gatorade, and sent up prayers for strength to the Man Upstairs. I kissed my lovers and found a byway to get to my corral which for some reason started to move forward. I was like what the shiznit? I thought we had already started..turns out everyone moved forward due to the wheelchair race starting. I remembered last year running the half how many more peepz there were..but the Marathon corrals were so spacious and disorganized. Hmm..

Got my ipod on deck, tried to strech again, and found the pace lady. Before I knew it, we were moving up and out.. I felt strong and happy. Stayed with the pace lady at a pace that I felt was moving too fast for the projected 4:30 finish. Turns out ths lady was running 9 minute miles for the next 7 miles. I tried to check my stopwatch, but the daym thing has stopped at 4:32. I tried to go by the pace watches but I my head couldn't get the calculations right in my head..so I just said F it, even though I felt the pace was slightly to fast for me. Mile 6 then mile 7 flew by when I overheard this man saying that she was running 9's. I ran to him and he was pissed, so was I. Daym, I thought. Why didnt' I listen to my body and readjust..F that lady. But what could I do? I just went with the pace clocks after that...trying to figure out my pace time. Mile 12 came up, I was feeling my knee at mile 9 but I didnt think about it, but Mile 12 My goodness. I just kept running giving myself goals of the next tree, the next stop sign, the next house..and I made it to my parents who met me at mile 14. I saw my Dad's big grin and my golden gatorade bottle. Mumbled a few words and ate my goo and drank my gatorade. Finished and trudged on...but daym, I had to GO!!! Luckily I found a porta-john line free and did my business. By that time I KNEW I had drank too much liquid, my stomach was cramping up, not a sidecramp, but my actual stomach. It was hurting...but not enough to stop me. I just tried to push the hurt out of my mind and think forward to meeting D-man and V at mile 20. "Only 5 more miles till I can stop again" I kept putting to my skull. I hit my wall at mile 16. My lungs were good, my knee was hurting like a mutha, my stomach was cramped up, and mentally i was trying to make my body stop. I walked for a good 15 secs. here and there for the next mile. I told myself to suck it up and remembered this older man who I had passed and what was written on the back of his shirt " I CAN DO ALL THINGS THROUGH CHRIST WHO STRENGTHENS ME." I got back on track and ran down Indian School fortified but still feeling the stress, strain and pain of those past 17 miles. I was not focused on the scenery but on the peeps around me, the determination, the strength, and yes the pride and pain etched on their bodies. It was almost like we were united in our determination to finish this bitch of 26.2. Before I knew it mile 19 was here..one more babeegirl and I can see my two loves and take a break. D-man was holdling up my green gatorade, towering over the others with this huge proud grin. I ran to him and saw my Son sleeping in his stroller... They walked with me while I ate my goo and drank my gatorade. D-man encouraging me and I gave him a salty kiss. Off again to meet my brother at mile 23. 3 miles...and then it hit me. I freaking already ran 20 miles!! My brain couldn't get around that. I remember thinking at mile 6, whoa, at miles 20 Ill be all " I only have 6 miles left", and I was thinking wasn't that like 20 minutes ago?

After that walking break, I couldn't get my groove back, I dropped a couple minutes here and ther trying to get my body back into the run. I pushed myself to run to at least McDowell, then from McDowell to at least McClintock, then from McClintock to Mile marker 22. At 22 I glugged some H20, and thought," One more mile till my brother. I have to run it in to make him proud". I ran that mile 22 looking and praying...but the funny thing was that that pain had become a part of me, it was mentally that i had to talk myself through. Yes I was tired, yes I wanted to stop, but the funny thing was, I knew my body had more to give. I knew that I could run a little faster, push it more, I still had a lot to give..not much, but enough to run it it strong. Mental babee..thats the breakdown.

Mile 23 marker was glowing in the dusty wind, yes, by that time the dust and wind had started to blow. So not only was I battling my jacked knee and sloshy stomach, but the wind had decided to be my enemy. It was windy enough that it had stirred up the dust and making my hair do its own dance..After 22 miles, that wind felt like a hurricaine.

But there, I saw him. My big brother Eagleman. I felt so happy and so relieved to see a familiar and loved face..and that pride I saw made me feel so good. He gave me my gatorade and told me how strong I looked and how fast I was going..we proceeded to run. Yes he ran the last 3 miles in with me. We talked and ran...He was there when I was so ready to just keep stopping. I needed that and I am so thankful that he was there for me. He pushed me to run that last 3 miles faster and harder than I thought I could...On the way in, we passed this older gentleman from San Carlos who is a known and respected runner from a known running family. And I passed him. No disrespect, but that made my whole running year! I didnt' want to acknowledge him because I know he was running with pain and you just don't do that to Apache men, acknowledge that hey Im passing you...and Im a woman.

That last mile felt like 2 miles! I was asking Eagleman dang when does this thing end? Just a little bit further sis..your almost there was my answer. At mile 26 he told me he was going to let me finish it big. "its yours SIS- RUN IT IN!!" SO with that ringing in my ears, I flew. I flew past all these peeps hurting on the side, peeps just struggling to make it in. It hurt but I wanted to finish strong, finish hard. In a way, I knew that I had so much to burn off that I hadn't burned off enough when I ran..that maybe I could of pushed it harder, ran it faster..felt it more. But as with most things, hindsight is a bitch.

I saw the finish line around the corner, the people yelling, the blur of faces...but I saw nobody..I was in my own zone. Pushing it till my legs burned and my lungs were on fire. I crossed that line with my "APACHE" face..lol. The face that I get when I am determined and focused....But as soon as I passed that line, I broke out into the biggest smile that almost cracked my face. I got my mylar blanket, and took off my chip, and there they were. My parents with smiles that matched my own. I limped over and as soon as I saw my Mommacita with wet eyes..mine immediately got wet too.

I felt so proud, but like I couldn't believe it either. I couldn't believe that I ran freaking 26.2 miles. I did it, my goal. Despite my sidetracks to my running with the birth of my Son, my pneumonia, my busy life. I knew I was going to do this, I was going to finish..nothing or nobody was going to stop me. Why? Because I want to do what I say I will do, I want to be about what I am. I want to be who I see myself as being, I dont' want to lie to myself. If I am a runner, that doesnt mean that I run marathons or that I am even a good runner, it means that I finish what I start.

Yes I did cry. Tears of pride and happiness. I did this big thing..and I can call myself a marathoner.