First Marathons: Crystal Ramirez

I didn't start running until I moved from Houston, Texas to DC. Likely due to the mild climate. Or the accessibility to running trails. Or perhaps I was just bored after moving to a new city on my own. Regardless, running quickly became a passion. Saturday & Sunday afternoons were spent running 6-8 miles around the national mall & monuments. Weekdays were spent running through Rock Creek Park.

On St. Patty's Day 2012, 9 months after moving to DC, I ran my first half-marathon. It was exhilarating. I felt like I could easily run another 3 miles after crossing the finish line. And I actually walked 2 miles to a less-crowded metro station post-race. Later that night I basked in my success. With a Guinness, ofcourse.

I ran the same half-marathon in 2013, but didn't feel as accomplished the second time around. I decided a full-marathon couldn't be that much harder, right? Wrong. There's no way to sugarcoat it - the Marine Corps Marathon was by far the toughest physical and mental activity I've ever endured.

Here's a breakdown:

Race Weekend

I thought it'd be a great distraction and opportune time to go wedding dress shopping. My parents were flying in to cheer me on. As were Josh's. And my grandma. So while my mom, grandma, future mother-in-law and I spent our afternoons dress shopping, Josh entertained our dads. It was incredibly distracting. And successful. By the end of the weekend I found a dress and our parents seemed to genuinely enjoy eachother's company.

The night before the race we all carbo-loaded at my favorite Italian restaurant, Geranio Ristorante. When I got home I studied the race course, laid out my running gear, then nearly had a panic attack. And then felt elated. And then cried. I was going nuts.

Race Day

I woke up well before sunrise, ate a banana and half a bagel, drank some orange juice, then walked with Josh to the Metro. On the way, I threw up said orange juice. I was so nervous. When we arrived at the Pentagon Metro station, we walked for what felt like 5 miles to my race coral. Josh helped to settle my nerves and stuck around for a bit, but eventually made his way to the other side of the starting line to meet our parents.

I considered going to the bathroom before the race started, but didn't want to stand behind the other 200+ people that were doing the same. So instead I nervously stretched & tried to keep warm. Then the pre-race fanfare started, including this:

Those flags were massive. Pictures don't do them justice. Everyone around me was pumped, albeit cold. My toes were numb, but I was ready to go.

Mile by Mile

Miles 0 - 1: Just past the starting line hundreds of men stopped along the side of the road, nearly shoulder-to-shoulder, to pee. They didn't want to wait in line. They didn't have to. I couldn't have been more jealous!

Miles 1 - 2: I saw Josh and our parents cheering on the side. I think I yelled something along the lines of "I have to pee!!" as I ran by. The first chance I got, I did.

Miles 2 - 3: I was on the lookout for the first mile marker. It was feeling like the longest mile I'd ever run. And then I saw the 3 mile marker and couldn't believe it came so quickly. It was around this time that I started to feel my toes again.

Miles 3 - 6: Felt just like the first 3 miles. Cake. Around mile 4 I started passing the volunteer runners who push along handicapped children & adults, including Team Hoyt. Everyone was shouting words of encouragement as they ran by. It was so inspiring.

Miles 6 - 8: I saw Josh & our parents again. I shed some layers, refueled, smiled for a pic (yikes!), and continued on.

Miles 8 - 12: For a 1-2 mile stretch there signs staked into the ground every 6 feet or so. Each sign had a picture of a marine that had passed, including their name, and age. Most were under the age of 25. Several pictures included the children and/or spouses they left behind. Standing behind each sign were small groups of people holding American flags. I assumed these were the family members. It was surreal. It was incredibly quiet & still. It was incredibly hard not to cry.

Mile 13.1: At the half-marathon point I didn't experience that same elation I felt in the past. In fact, my knees were starting to hurt, which never happened in training or past races.

Miles 13.1 - 18: I started to panic. I began taking candy from bystanders. Maybe chewing on tootsie rolls would keep my mind off my knees? Not so much. I dreaded seeing my family because I didn't want them to see me suffer. My knees were really hurting. I felt like others could see it. Like I was running with a limp. Fortunately, I was able to spot Josh in the crowd on two occasions. I did my best to look strong & confident. There was lots of smiling & waving.

Miles 18 - 20: I prayed I didn't see my family again until the finish line. I couldn't imagine running another 6.2 miles.

Miles 20 - 24: I reached the "beat the bridge" part of the course - a long, steady incline across the 14th street bridge into Arlington. I got angry. Who encouraged me to do this? I hated them. I hated everyone. Including the person in front of me who painted "this is my 14th marathon" on their shirt. Or the bystander yelling "only 3 more miles to go" at the 22 mile mark. Liar! I may have yelled that back. I was delirious. I contemplated whether childbirth could be harder than running a marathon? I kept doing the math, estimating my pace in an effort to determine how much longer I'd be running. I started whispering encouraging mantras to myself. Because all I really wanted to do was quit.

Miles 24 - 25: At some point there was a sharp decline, which I never imagined would be worse than an incline. But it was. It just killed my knees. I had never been in so much pain. I couldn't decide if it hurt more to walk or run. I did a combo. And more math. At one point I even ran while trying to keep my legs straight, ala Forest Gump with leg braces.

Miles 25 - 26: I reached acceptance. I think the donut I grabbed from the Dunkin station at Mile 24 kicked in. And it helped that the runners around me began shouting encouraging words to one another. We were all so close.

Miles 26 - 26.2: I saw my parents. Again, I did my best to look strong. The finish line was at the top of a steep hill. I felt like falling down and crying, but I pushed through and crossed the finish line at 04:44:30.

When I crossed the finish line it wasn't like anything I had imagined. I thought I'd have tears of joy. That I'd have this overwhelming feeling of accomplishment & pride. Not so much. I felt empty. I walked for just over a mile to reach Josh & our parents at the designated family meeting point. I smiled for my family and tried my best not to limp. I hugged Josh & didn't want to let go.

The next day was absolutely brutal. I laid in bed all day & iced my knees. It took 3 days to feel normal-ish when walking. It took 2 weeks to walk up & down stairs with minimal pain.

That feeling of accomplishment came slowly, but never in the way I thought it would. I found out what I am made of, and the result is comforting. But ultimately, I'm a half-marathon kind of runner. For whatever reason, I felt that finishing a marathon would make me a "real" runner. I'm happy to have completed one full-marathon. I'm happy to continue with halfs. And I'll still consider myself a "real" runner.