Day 4: Marathon Mayhem

So it's the morning of the marathon and I'm stressing out as I normally do before I subject my body to 26.2 miles of sheer torture. Ok that's another exaggeration. I actually do enjoy running. And the ecstasy after finishing a marathon is unreal. Anyway I continue to stress out undercover as Dannah, Will,  and I enjoy some pre-race oatmeal. They each have one packet. I have two. Maple & brown sugar. Drizzle a little bit of milk after it comes out of the microwave. The best! The more calories the better. We pack up and do some pre-race kung-fu pics and head out the door. Much to our surprise it's snowing. Well, sleeting at first. Diluted snow. Wonderful. Dannah has never seen snow fall from the sky before. She is from Hawaii. In case you didn't know, it doesn't snow there. She is in awe. We quickly come to the realization that as beautiful as it is, we have to run a marathon in this ish. No bueno. By the time we actually make it to the car it is no longer sleeting, it's snowing. Majorly. The snowflakes are fat cold cotton balls. GnarBar. I've never driven in the snow so I'm freakin' out on the ride from Seattle to Olympia. Ps. I got a phone call from the race coordinator last night. Red flag. Race officials don't call the runners before the event. That just doesn't happen. He calls to inform me that the location of the race has changed. Another red flag. Races don't just pack up their bags and move over to the next county. That just doesn't happen. Something smells a little janky. So now we are heading south to Rochester, Washington rather than the capital of Olympia. I later learn that Rochester is the buttcrack of Washington according to a native Olympian. 

After some serious close calls with icy snowy treacherous roads we finally arrive at Swede Hall. Yeah, it's pretty awesome. There are big Swedish flags painted on the walls inside. There are a whopping 20 people bustling around inside the building. This is where the race is supposed to start and there are 20 freaking people! I proceed to ask the race official how many people will be running the marathon. He proceeds to tell me that there are 30 people in the race. 30 people! Fifteen of them left at the early start an hour ago. This is janky. Dannah and I are definitely from southern California as we put on our trash bags. We're not tryin' to get all wet running 26.2 miles.

People are staring at us, mainly because I'm wearing crazy glittery blue spandex straight from the 80's but also because clearly only rookies wear trash bags. Whatevs. Anyway back to the janky race. So the course is out 5 miles one way and back and then 1 1/2 miles the other way and back. That makes a 13 mile re-run course and for those of us running the marathon, we get to do it twice. Wonderful. Quite possibly the worst course ever. The race official clearly has never run a marathon. Not only is it out and back but since the race is so small, they have decided not to close the roads. It had been snowing/raining all morning. Clearly there are puddles and slushy clumps of fun all over the place. Cars decide it's a good idea to splash muddy water all over our bodies. Foul. There are only four aid stations throughout the entire race and we just repeatedly pass the same stations over and over. There was this one young boy volunteer that I saw a total of four times throughout my race. The third time I saw him, it was mile 16, I decided to see if he could pump me up a bit. "10 miles, that's nothing right? I can do this right?" I said. "I couldn't do it" was his flat un-emotional response. Great encouragement buddy. The last time I pass him by, mile 20, I say "6 miles I can do this right? 6 miles is nothing." He responds in his monotone, "Seems like a lot to me." Awesome kid. Thanks for the pick me up. 

For those of you who have never experienced a marathon, they normally have hundreds of volunteers, aid stations at every mile marker, blatant course markers, port-a-poddies for miles,  lots of spectators screaming your name because it's clearly written on your bib, and lots of fun and energy! This marathon had none of the above. It was frigid. There were four volunteers. No spectators. Random cones as course markers. Towards the end of the race the four aid stations have been abandoned. The one boy I was talking about earlier is sitting in the car with his mom next to the aid station. There are no runners for 3 miles in front of or behind me. I had ditched my trash bag at the half way point because the weather was overtly shizophrenic. It decided to be sunny and literally about ten minutes after I cast off the bag, it starts pouring torrential rain and fierce wind against my ragged body. 

Best part of the whole race, just after I passed the discouraging boy, a woman pulls over in her car. I have my headphones in but I hear her scream, "HEY LADY!!" She could only be talking to me. I turn around to see a middle-aged woman, frizzy brown hair blowing in the wind, expression livid as she yells some more. "There's an aid station back there that's been abandoned! The cups are blowing all over the road! We need to keep these streets clean! You need to go clean that stuff up!" I'm shocked. Speechless. Not quite sure how to respond. I finally come up with, "I'm pretty sure they will come through and pick everything up after all the runners have finished the race." She looks at me and shouts, "They better or I'm calling the cops!" I turn around and run away as quickly as I can considering I've been running for 20 miles and my body is near death. Never before have I been harassed during a marathon. Epic. I laugh hysterically for about five minutes and simply how ludicrous this entire experience has been.

At one point, at about mile 25, it starts hailing. Oh hell no, I think to myself. I can handle wind, rain, even a little snow, but hail is f'ing painful!! Good thing it only hailed for about 2 minutes. I'm about a half mile from the finish, maybe a little more, and all of a sudden I see this rather large group of runners not too far ahead of me. I'm stumped as to where all of these people have come from. I know there are not that many people in my entire race. Turns out there was a one mile fun run that started about four hours after my race. They gave me the motivation to finish strong. I felt my pace pick up unintentionally. I'm competitive at heart. There were runners in front of me and I wanted to beat them. Who cares if they are only doing 1/26th of what I'm doing. I beat two of them. In yo face suckas!!

Normally, in what would be considered a typical marathon, the finish line is a fatty banner with a big clock and an announcer calling out names of runners finishing. There are heaps of spectators screaming and cheering. Water, bananas, and oranges for days. When I reached what appeared to be a finish line, (there is an easy-up, an empty table, and a clock propped up on the table), I have to knock on the window of a car parked nearby and ask if this is in fact the finish line. A young girl opens the door and records my time, at least a minute after I actually finished :( and hands me this deformed piece of plastic that is trying really hard to be a trophy. I'm pissed. It says overall winner on it. Lies. I ask the race official what this means and he says, "Oh, since there were so few runners we decided that everyone was a winner." I come back with "So there are no medals?" "No, we figured since there were so few of you guys we would just give you all trophies." I'm heated. I go back to my car and I'm so upset I almost cry. I can feel the tears welling. It may seem petty, but to be honest that's mostly what I think about the entire time I'm running, the sweet medal I'm gonna get at the end of it all. So when I didn't get a medal, I was livid, especially considering the conditions of this janky marathon. Dannah got a medal for finishing the 10k race. She tells me I should go back and see if they have extras and I can trade. So I do. I go knock on the window again and the girl gives me quite possibly the most janky medal ever. I keep using that word janky. You may be unaware of what it means. The urban dictionary definition is as follows: "an adjective used to describe a person, place or thing which is questionable, fucked up, wrong, strange, broken down, undesirable, and/or just some thing you can't think of another word for." The medal has a clip art leprechaun on the front. The back has a computer label printed off that says leprechaun classic and that is all. I'm not even certain this race was official. I may go to register for the 50 states club later this year and come to find that they won't recognize this race. I will cry. All this to say, this was a crazy race but something to laugh about in hindsight. Epic.

So I'm in a pretty pissy mood after finishing the race and I go to change out of my grimy clothes in the Swede Hall bathroom. Turns out they double booked the hall and there is another event that overlaps ours. I open the door and there are hundreds of old people coupled up, slow dancing in the middle of the room. Quite possibly the most precious thing I've ever seen in my life. My heart melts. I head into the restroom, where the stall doors only come up to my chest, and attempt to awkwardly change my clothes. I end up having to sit on the toilet seat while I change so strange old people don't see my naked salty body. After I change, an old woman is washing her hands and catches my eye. "Are you guys almost finished up out there?" she asks me. "Yeah, I think there are only a few more out there." "How far did you run?" "26.2 miles." "Wow, I bet you're pretty hungry huh? I'm so sorry they just cleaned up our feast." She rattles off all the yummy old people food they ate. "I'm gonna go try and get you a sandwich." About three minutes later she comes back into the bathroom with half an egg salad sandwich wrapped in a napkin and hands it to me. "I tried to get two but they wouldn't let me." She says with a smile. "I have 22 grandkids, 10 kids, and 3 great grandkids. I'm a mother at heart." Totally turned my world around. Total God sighting. I was euphoric after that. Thanks Jesus.

Will, Dannah, and I pack into the car once again and head out of little old Rochester, Washington

We shoot down to Portland where we meet up with our friend Crystal. We all shower and I attempt to take an hour long nap. I fail miserably. My body aches too much to rest. It's ironic and it sucks. Then Dannah and I take off to visit with my girl Lillian at Portland City Grill on the 30th floor of this grand building. We get a fantastic view of downtown Portland. Epic. Sundays are happy hour all day long so we order tons of amazing appetizers. Once our bellies are successfully

 bloated we head out. We pause in the lobby for a fun photo sesh. I teach Lil how to thizz and then we peace out. 

We get back to Crystal's house and Dannah sleeps on the loveseat while I take the big couch and Will takes the floor. Dannah doesn't sleep at all. The next day Dannah makes a comment about how she has never laid on a couch that was too small for her. She is barely 5'1''. I slept about four hours due to an aching body and a not so comfy couch. Not sure how much Will slept. All in all there was not much rest involved. Day 4 end.