Race Weekend

I did it and lived to blog about it. Even though technically the race was on Sunday, I feel like I was running a wild and crazy marathon all weekend.

Let me take you back...

Friday afternoon-

The crappy(est) thing about the ING Marathon is they don't mail you your race packet. They hold an "Expo" where you go and get your race bib and timing chip, and you are forced to peruse booths boasting the secret snacks to everlasting energy, and the newest, most technologically advanced non-chaffing running shorts. That's all fine and good, I guess, but too bad a monsoon was moving its way across metro-Atlanta. Beau and I packed up an afternoons worth of snacks and boarded our ark and floated our way down to the Georgia Dome.

I HATE driving in Atlanta. HATE IT. I don't know my way around (shamefully) and even with Garmin (that's a GPS, Mom...hehe) leading the way, it was high stress in my little Civic. I found the Dome fine...now just needed to park... I'm pretty sure that I payed a random bum $10 to park in a lot right there at the front of the Dome...but I didn't care. I was relieved to be there.

So it was pouring. I knew I needed to take Beau in his stroller because I wasn't sure how far we would have to walk, or how long we would have to wait. On the other hand, that meant I was going to ditch the umbrella and just hoof it as fast as possible. I tucked Beau into the stroller covered him up as much as I could, and ran.

There were signs everywhere, so it was very well marked, which was a relief. Until the bright orange and blue sign pointed down a huge set of stairs. Geez...We had to get to the lower level before we could even get inside. Which would have been no problem...except not so good with the stroller. Through the downpour I look for an elevator. Probably a good 5 minutes later of running around in the rain I finally found one that went where we needed to go. Come to find out that Beau is now terrified of elevators. Or maybe it was the fact that we were both soaked to the bone and he sensed my frustration, or heard my cussing under my breath knowing I gave up swearing for Lent. One or the other.

Anyway, long story longer, we finally got in and it literally took me five minutes to go through and get my number and packet and we were back in the rain. We finally get home, cold and wet, but mission accomplished.

That night I had rehearsal.

Moving to Saturday (a day before race)...

I worked from 11 to 7 and then went straight to rehearsal. I had decided to spend the night at my parent's house that night because 1)They live right next to where we were rehearsing so I wouldn't have to drive 45 min home and could just jump into bed for a good night's sleep. And 2)I didn't want to have to disrupt Beau's morning by getting everyone up at 5 am to get me to the starting line by 6:30.

Except, I failed to realize that this would be the first night away from Beau EVER. Laying in the bed in my old bedroom, my head just became consumed with thoughts of my baby and anxiety building for the next morning. I knew I would be going down to Centennial Park in a mass of 15,000 people all by my lonesome. Oh yeah, and running 13.1 miles with said 15,000 people. Needless to say, I didn't sleep much.

As you can imagine, 5 am came pretty early. I felt like I had just fallen asleep when I suddenly woke up a couple minutes before I had set my alarm. Ugh. Half an hour later my dad and I were on the road to downtown.

I was nervous about being able to find where I was supposed to go all by myself, but luckily there were people walking all over Atlanta. So, after a quick prayer, Dad just pulled over and I jumped into a mob of spandex-clad people I assumed would lead me to the starting line. And they did.

I failed to mention that this particular morning was quite brisk. And by brisk I mean a nippy 40 degrees. It was freezing. As I was standing there, pretending to be waiting for someone in the mile long potty line, I really began wondering what the hell I was doing. "So, you are standing here by yourself, freezing, waiting anxiously to (maybe) run 13.1 miles that you paid $85 to do so..." And I had forgotten my chapstick. That alone made me want to hail the closest taxi and have him return me to my warm bed, Carmex, and my baby. I was really beginning to doubt myself and I could feel myself teetering on the verge of a panic attack. I could feel my throat getting dry and my eyes getting wet. Crap. Don't cry Heather.

All of a sudden a crowd began to gather around the tent where I was standing. And I believe the following 10 minutes are what got me to that starting line, and to the finish line. A guy got on the loud speaker and turns out he is from a group called Christian Runners. He proceeded to give a short devotional about "running the good race". Run a good race, and you won't be running alone.

"Let us run with endurance the race that is set before us." Hebrews 12:1b

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." Philippians 4:13.

As I was running the sun came up on the skyline of Atlanta and I filled my lungs with cold southern air and I was grateful. Grateful to have my health, able to run. Grateful for my home, my city, my country. Grateful for my husband and sweet baby. For my friends and family. For the next two hours, over 13.1 miles of Atlanta, I had a heart to heart with God. And before I knew it, I was crossing the finish line.

It was a great experience despite that fact that it took me two hours and three meltdowns to find Leo and Beau after I finished. No lie, I wept to a strange lady after I borrowed her phone to find my husband. I'm just going to chalk that up to exhaustion. That and all I wanted was a latte, my chapstick, a toilet with pipes, and to squeeze my baby boy.

We finally found each other in the sea of people and I had enough time to go home, shower, and turn around and get to rehearsal.

Such is my life.

Anyway, if you made it to the end of this post, I should wrap you in a foil blanket and put a "finisher" medal around your neck. Thanks for finishing.