It seems like a lifetime ago that my entries stopped along with the intensity of my marathon training. With about 2 and a half months to go to the NYC marathon, I came down with the flu. Devoid of all energy my husband carried me into the emergency clinic. I know my body, I knew it was going to be the flu. I did not know that another positive test was going to come back.
“You’re pregnant and you have the flu”
Shocked, excited and beyond emotional due this was the beginning of out new journey. Only 5 weeks in you can see why I stopped writing about my training. I had to adjust to my changing body and expectations and always felt off, which I did not want to by accident spill in my writing until we announced.
I decided, with the blessing of my Dr, not so much my family that the baby and I ( we) will run NYC. I was told to manages my expectation and do not try and PR. I was out of training for two weeks due to the flu and when I came back I was on the taper. Missing two of the top LR training and returning to hit lower miles with longer times, I thought I could still PR.
November 5 – Race Day
I was ready, packed got dropped off at the buses by my husband and future baby daddy. From Metlife I sat with a wonderful lady, a mom, that we shared stories about running and she filled me with well wishes, the mom calming effect and astonishment in my decision to run while just about hitting my third month with child.
We talked through the dark night until we arrived at the lite up village. We unloaded off the buses and still, a touch like cattle or tourist were being pushed along to find our starting areas. Unfortunately, we were in different colors. I forget her name and I hope she had the race she trained for but just want to say Thank you for the short time but a big bond and extra boost of confidence she gave me that morning.
I walked past the empty lines of port-a-johns that I am sure would be 4 or 5 deep next time I meandered through this area. I drifted toward the volunteers giving our bananas and apples, although this race I had been so prepared and packed so much food, eating for 2. Just in case. We made our way into the Dunkin Donuts area, grabbed a coffee and of course and infamous NYC DD neon pink hat. Found myself a grass area ( the least cold and wet I could) against a fence and bundled myself as the sun started to shine down and hundreds of racers made their way in the wait.
I drank my coffee, listened to music, munched on my warm oatmeal and watched everyone. I thought about what pace group I should run with, as I still wanted to PR. I wanted to qualify for Boston. On my wrist I had a 3:15 and 3:20 pace bracelets; but knew I had to make a decision, they started in different corrals.
With still another 2 hours til my start gun several people starting filling in the area around me. People chatting, warming up, resting, eating and a lot of people going to the bathroom. Soon a gentleman sat directly next to me. He did not have a lot of extra clothes, food, blankets as myself. For those that do not know, unless you check your bag you have to leave everything so you bring things you will donate in the hundreds of donation bins they have around. So as mismatched and unatheltic I looked, I was comfortable and prepared. I offered him something to sit on he declined. We did not talk for a while. I do not remember what sparked the conversation but another runner friend that I will always keep in my heart and because of Facebook ( in touch)
My new friend, Andreas, was an experienced marathoner that had partaken in some of the biggest races in the world ( Berlin and Japan were two I could remember. He and his wife were visiting NYC for the race but took the time to experience a taste of the city. We talked races, paces, and expectations. I believe we were both aiming for sub 3:30 /3:20. I shared with him my news of baby on board. Andreas was a kind soul and also a father. Another person that was put in my path that made this a special experience. We talked for probably an hour before he took off to mentally prepare himself and find his corral.
As I waited for the corrals to open I decided to go with the 3:20 pace group. The corral for me was a little lonely and where the nerves started to build. The competitiveness also started to build. People were packed in waiting to be released just to walk to the start line and you could not get by. You had to do your final strip down to race clothes. It was a literal and metaphorical strip. The bridge comes into view, the sun, thousands of runners and the voice of MC. We hit the bridge, stop for the national anthem ( oh yea found my pace group, but did not connect with anyone) and waited for the gun)
The gun hit and we took off we were going for 7:28/mi pace. The bridge was chaotically beautiful. I envied the people taking it in and enjoying themselves and our group dodged and weaved through the masses. I was exhausted after 3 miles in, Some of the race I felt I got in a comfortable rhythm, from about 4 – 12. Then the intense sensation of having to pee and lower abdomen pressure and pain. I’m pregnant.
This is where the battle in my head began. Should I take a break, should I stop, can I do this? My family told me there were going to be in LIC so I told myself to just make it to them so I can get a burst of motivation, rejuvenation and maybe some Advil ( which of course I forgot) I mean Tylenol because I couldn’t have alive or Advil.
I couldn’t take it anymore, the pressure was so intense I had to stop to use the bathroom. I picked a straight stretch so I would be able to see the pacers sign when I came out. I was wrong I did not really have to go to the bathroom. This was just forsythe of what pregnancy bladder would be over the next 6 Months. Barely anything came out. So now I am frustrated with myself for wasting time and doing a six minute pace to try and catch up. This is where I lost it. I gave up on finding the group and at this point saw Boston slip away. The pain in my body started and the pressure in my stomach was something so new it was mentally messing with my head. Was it the baby, was it me, is this normal what do I do. I called my husband at the end of LIC before I hit the bridge of solitude. My whole family was just on the other side of it.
I was devastated, I thought I would have seen them. I didn’t have it in me to climb the bridge. The pain, the crushing blow to my ego, “the wall all just hit me on the climb. I moved to the right side because I was walk and stopping every few hundred yards. Knowing I still had 10 miles to go. You can hear people breathing and feet hitting the pavement and not a whole lot else. I got beat here. I almost never let anything get to me and that fact alone made me spiral. I wish I could say it was all downhill from there.
A mile down the road I saw my family double barricaded with no entrance to get to them. I stopped, I cried, about the pain about my frustration and I scared my family. The cops helped me find a way to my family with my dad showing his badge to get everyone to me. I felt embarrassed, scared and exhausted. My mom cried, she wanted me to stop, my poor husband was nervous for me as I yelled at him for Tylenol and the rest of my family watching with bated breath. My mom wanted to call for an ambulance. I’m not sure how long I stopped for but as I became a spectacle, between the cops that were by my side, the 7 family members and me crying about the baby. I realized I had to finish even though it wouldn’t be anywhere near what I trained for but I had hit the new phase of my life. Motherhood.
I was not about to give up because it was not what I expected or it was too hard. This was now about the baby and the story I would tell him as soon as he could understand. We did this together. We did not give up. We conquered the fear. Unsure to this day how long I stopped for, I think somewhere about ten minutes, I started off again. My pace slowed considerably, high eights into the nines, and I felt every single muscle at every single step.
People passed me, people that would never of passed me, as I passed the crowd, slowly, I stopped, I started, I cried, I smiled. I just kept going. Mile by mile I made it closer and closer with the clock just getting further and further away from my goal. I ached everywhere, I was depleted but I just kept telling the baby we would finish. I was no longer running in crowds. It was sparse, pained runners struggling through.
With most of my leg muscles tight and on the verge of ceasing I hit Central Park. Once I hit the park I smiled and cried my way through the last leg of this race knowing that I would finish. My pace picked up and I put cruise control. The pride of finishing the race started to fill as I hit that last portion of the race going back into the park to the finish line. I looked for my family but unfortunately could not find them.
Feet away I started to cry.
We did it. 40 minutes slower than expected. A few seconds over 4 hours on the nose. But I ran the NYC marathon and finished while pregnant. This is something I will forever be proud of and will have for my son. A medal for each of us. Determination, pride and perseverance will be engrained in his DNA.
I took my photo and hobbled the mile out of the park to my husband, parents, Mother and Sister in law who all came to support me. I missed my sister and her family, they had been in LIC but I was too in my head to notice them but of course, came to support. They helped me change mid street out of my clothes into some sweat and take a photoshoot for our pregnancy announcement.
It was a very conflicting time, proud and excited of this child and accomplishment and disappointment in my time and wasted hours training. No PR, no Boston qualifier but a finish.
This was the last time I really ran while pregnant. It just got so uncomfortable to run, and run slow and mentally was not worth it. I would be in training for the next phase of my life. My son.
Racing your thirties 