A Well-deserved Victory

2 years ago, somewhere between mile 12-13 of my Ironman Lake Placid run, I blew up spectacularly into a million pieces. My nutrition was okay (probably too much). I had no GI issues, no orthopadic problems (every joint in my body aching doesn't count), no dehydration or hyponatremia. Physically I was in pain, but fine to keep running the rest of the way. However, my head and my heart were a mess. I saw Kevin around mile 11 and had to choke back tears. I still don't completely understand the emotions I was having at that moment, but it was a swirl of "Holy crap, this hurts. I want to stop. I want my mommy!" that spiraled into "Boon, you big pussy. Stop blubbering. You CHOSE to do this. No one forced you to sign, up, train, and come this far in this Ironman." How about that? I made myself feel bad about feeling bad. How incredibly crazy and unhealthy.
What I shall never forget was how my dear friend, Sherry, was there. She ran (more like walk/shuffled) with me from mile 11 to 15. She could see I was having my darkest moment and stayed with me. First, she tried to distract me with our usual chatter (except she was the only one talking) that we'd have on our long runs. When I was out of sight of Kevin, I started to sob.
"I don't want to run another fucking 13 miles!" I cried.
Her arms were around my shoulders, holding me up as the tears and sobs shook me.
I finally wiped my face and hiccupped, "There's no crying in Ironman!" and started running again.
Sherry would have run the rest of the way with me, but she was recovering from an injury resulting from training for her first marathon.
Last Sunday, I took an opportunity to pay back a small part of her kindness and friendship. Sherry had taken 2 years to recover from that injury and was running her 2nd marathon at Niagra Falls. Her sister (and my swim pal), Janelle and I happily played support crew for her on race day.
The race started in Buffalo, NY at the Knox Art Museum. We got our race girl to the start line with plenty of time for the pre-race emptying of nervous bowel and bladder. The morning sun and blue skies warmed the chilly start. After she was on her way, Janelle and I raced across the Peace Bridge and were pleasantly surprised by a quick border crossing. We saw Sherry at mile 6 as she came off the Peace Bridge and headed into the one mile of headwind on this blessed course. At mile 8, Janelle took her wind breaker then we were off again, speeding down the QEW to see her at mile 12, 17, and 20. What an ideal marathon course this is! About 1000 marathon runners: enough people to keep you company, but not too many to get in your way. The first 4 miles of the course wound through Buffalo. A run across the Niagra River, over the Peace Bridge (how cool is that?!), and into Cananda for a run along the Niagra River with the finish line at Niagra Falls. The course is flat (except the bridge); and on Sherry's race day the winds were strong and at her back for all but one mile. For support crew, the course was so easy to access via the QEW and country roads leading the water's edge.
Sherry was nervous about this race and rightfully so: She had been so patient and consistent with her recovery and training. She didn't keep her race goals a secret: She wanted to qualify for the Boston Marathon. That would mean running faster than 3:45:59. She told us on the ride up to the start line that she was going to run her race, regardless of what the time would be. Janelle knew her better and said that there were many levels of goals that we set for ourselves for these races: the "If everything goes perfect" goal, the "I'd be pretty happy with this time" goal, the "If it all goes to crap, I'm okay with it" goal. I told Sherry that getting to the finish line without and injury was half the victory. We all agreed, but all of us wanted so very much for Sherry to qualify for Boston.
At mile 20, the last time Janelle and I would see our race sister before the finish line, Sherry looked strong and was running smoothly. We were convinced she'd finish in 3:30.
At the finish line, we became anxious as 3:30, then 3:40 passed without seeing Sherry. Janelle said that she wanted her sister to have this victory: Not just because she had worked so hard and recovered with patience. Indeed, Sherry deserved to be rewarded with a great race. But, Janelle said she wanted the victory for herself: to know that it could be done, that one could recover physically and mentally from an injury and a bad race to triumph again.
The race clock now read 3:42:58. Janelle is jumping out of her skin.
"There's Sherry!" She screams, "Should I go to her and tell her to hurry up?"
"Yes!" I say, "Tell her to HAUL ASS, HAUL ASS!!"
I'd never seen a pregnant woman move so fast (Janelle is 30 weeks pregnant). She's yelling to Sherry and both of them come charging toward me. We run after her to the finish line: 3:44:37.
The finish line announcer says, "Slow down Sherry Hecker from Brighton, NY. Your support team is chasing you!"
Sherry tells us that the last 7 miles was so incredibly hard. She had slowed to a 10 min/mile pace for a couple of miles from pain in her hips. As she saw her hopes of a 3:30 slip away, she told herself that she didn't come all this way to not qualify for Boston.
I am so happy and grateful for her victory. It is a victory of patience and consistent hard work. It is my favorite kind of hope: that of possibilities.