Twenty-one miles, done and DONE! Friday night, I met up with Kim and Aphrodite to carbo-load, which is admittedly my favorite part of marathon training. I washed down my seafood pasta with three glasses of wine, which left me sluggish the next morning. (My theory: If I do everything wrong beforehand, I'll be ready for anything! Ha.) After shoveling in breakfast, I dressed in my full-on running-nerd marathon gear. Between my neon synthetics and gigantic watch, I looked like an alien! The weather was perfectly crisp, and I felt great heading over the bridge on the same route I ran last year. Since I don't know what my pace should be, I just ran how fast my legs wanted me to go. My feet ached (I wonder if it's the new shoes? They're an updated version that are a lot cushier), so I stopped to readjust my sneakers a few times. Given those pauses, my splits were around 9:30 or so along the West Side highway. I couldn't believe how strong I felt, even as I was trucking around Central Park. Then, around mile 20, my body started insisting that I stop. I don't know if I hit The Wall, but all of a sudden, my legs went from "okay, I've got this" to "hell to the no." New strategy: I'll slow my pace a bit to 9:45-10:30 until mile 18 or so. My plan called for 20 and I thought about doing 22, so I called it even at 21. I was a bit sore afterwards and not in the slightest hungry (weird?!), but all in all, felt pretty good. Now...taper time!!!
P.S. A childhood memory that popped up during my run: Back when I was swimming, our coach would throw "Christmas camps" where we would swim like crazy over the holiday break. On more than one occasion, I had to run to the bathroom to puke up my breakfast before I jumped back in the water. Dude. Hardcore at 15! I think I'll finish the marathon, no matter what. :)
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