Almost two months later, I am finally ready to share the details of my first marathon. Looking back, it all seems so surreal. Yet, at the same time, my memories are vivid. Like it was yesterday. Running will do that to you. You think, “Man, I can’t believe this is happening!” But you are so strongly connected to the earth, to your body and to what is real that you start to believe it. You come to know it. And it’s as real as the breath you just took.

Preparing from Maryland

I remember the week leading up to the race as a time filled with nervous, yet very directed energy. I’m sure Jamie wished I could run more miles! Although, truth be told, neither of us complained about our spotless bathrooms or the piles of clean laundry that magically appeared.

I was so focused that the thought of a destination marathon didn’t seem to bother me. I knew exactly what I had to do and when. After a trip to REI to stock up on GU gels, a recharging of my iPod and a triple check of my favorite race gear, I was set.

I packed a separate bag that was designated as my race day bag. It contained (from the feet up because that’s how my mind works) my Saucony Kinvaras, my favorite SmartWool “long run socks,” my beacon-like orange shorts, my favorite sports bra, my “lucky” sleeveless top, my CamelBak, my “also lucky” Nike headband, my iPod, my Nike+ sensor and wristband, and then of course my gels and Nuun tablets. And I brought my foam roller.

I also, in a moment of impressive foresight I have to admit, managed to remember a post-race outfit and the packet of instructions that was mailed to all the participants.

Arriving in Pennsylvania

We arrived in one piece to my mom’s house late Friday night, despite getting into a minor accident with a tractor trailer along the way. She had pizza and vodka waiting for us, and a sign on her kitchen chalk board that read, “Go Alyssa!”

I had been trying not to drink alcohol too much that week, but after the tractor trailer incident and considering my nerves, I figured a few vodka tonics two days before the marathon wouldn’t hurt. I also took a sleeping pill that night because I knew I could count on the full eight hours if I needed it. Plus, they say “the night before the night before” your marathon is really the time to sleep.

The Day Before the Big Day

According to my Hal Higdon training plan, I was to run an easy three miles the Saturday before the race. So I laced up my running shoes and headed out into my old neighborhood. It was a crisp morning. And I remember thinking that I could conquer it all. The tunnel down the street seemed much closer to the house than I remember. Well, I had never run to it until this year. A distance that would, in the past, take me about 15 minutes to cover now took me closer to five. I was feeling good.

My mom, Jamie and I then went to the expo to pick up my race packet and try some random food samples. I had everything else I needed, so there was no need to buy anything. Random food samples excite me more than clothes, anyway. Unfortunately, Jamie and my mom were thoroughly unimpressed with the warm-ish coconut water.

As part of the expo, we also sat in on the “course presentation” which was essentially a panel of running gurus answering questions about the course. It was not a PowerPoint, which, in my marketing-tuned head, is totally what I expected. I also kind of wanted to see a motivational video of some kind. With emotional background music! It was not that either.

The main takeaway of the presentation was that we should be very careful on the downhills. Steamtown is known for about eight miles of pure downhill at the start. This makes for a fast course, and naturally the temptation is to bank time early on. However, the gurus told us quite plainly not to do this. Our quads could take a beating and there was always a risk that, if we damaged them too much, we wouldn’t be able to finish the race. I had read all the race reviews, so this wasn’t news to me. But it was a good reinforcement.

That night, we ate dinner at my family’s restaurant. Shameless plug: it’s called Oliveri’s Crystal Lake Hotel. They serve the best food. And the tables, during the warmer months, overlook a beautiful lake. My love of the outdoors I’m sure stems in part from the summers we spent there, diving for golf balls.

We had an early dinner (I don’t believe in the carb-load but I did have pasta) and of course I allowed some time to visit with my family. Then, it was back to my mom’s house for an attempt at sleep.

Before I hit the pillow, I set out all of my gear on the kitchen table and my race clothes in the bathroom. For some reason, I was obsessed with shaving my legs before the race, so I planned on taking a shower first thing in the morning. Who wants hairy legs in race photos? Not I, apparently.

Race Day Morning

The alarm, set to Colder Weather by Zac Brown Band, went off at some ungodly hour, 4:15 am I believe. I got in the shower, shaved my legs, got dressed and went downstairs to make coffee and eat my signature pre-long run meal of white bread with peanut butter. Delicious.

The car ride to the race start in Forrest City is a bit of a blur. It was dark, and cold. Jamie played Hit the Road Jack for my mother who was singing it before we left. It was not my ideal “pump me up” song but I didn’t care. Mom liked it. And I had just downloaded a bunch of great tunes and created my marathon playlist on my iPod, so I knew that once I turned that on at the starting line, I’d be in my zone.

Along the windy roads, we happened to come upon the race cannon en route to the start. The truck pulling it was going very slowly, so they let us by. We were so excited that we beeped repeatedly as we passed it. I’m sure the driver either got a kick out of this or thought we were still-drunk-from-last-night rednecks. Like I said, it was dark.

I took off my sweatshirt as Jamie pulled up to the race start. I knew I’d be cold at first, but I also knew I’d warm up quickly, once I started running. I grabbed my CamelBak (stocked with Nuun-infused water and GU gels), my iPod and well, that was it.

It was in this moment when I realized what I was about to do. I literally had this bag on my back and not much else. Nothing except 26.2 miles in front of me.

One Hour to the Start

Exiting the car, I said, “See you guys at mile 17!” and off I went into the darkness, following the volunteers that were directing us to the gym of Forrest City High School.

Along the way, someone shoved a purple ribbon in my face. I said thanks but had to ask what it was for. I’m pretty particular about the causes I support. The volunteer said, “It’s, um, for the race.” I thought, well okay then. I guess I can support that!

Inside the gym, there were masses of runners huddled up on the bleachers and on the floor. Some were holding big black garbage bags which I soon realized were for your belongings should you want to “check” and retrieve them at the finish line. I was glad I didn’t have anything to check. I wandered around for a while, enjoying the warmth of being inside.

All of sudden, I heard someone yell, “Alyssa!” It was my friend from high school, Jaye (also known as Running Momma). We reconnected recently through Facebook and it was so amazing to have her as a virtual training partner through the past few months. She’s a seasoned runner, and had run Steamtown in the past, so it was comforting even to be in her presence for a few minutes before the start. She was running the race with a friend of hers, so after we talked for a few minutes, I decided to go on my way.

I hit the bathroom one last time and finally approached the starting line. The sun had finally risen. There was a band playing and someone sang the National Anthem. The energy was electric. I managed to position myself somewhere between the nine and the 10 minute mile markers. Wishful thinking, yes, but I didn’t care. I wanted to get caught up in it all. I wanted to dream big.

And then… boom. We were off.

The First 13.1 Miles

Due to the sheer number of people, it always takes a few minutes to get to the starting line of any race. I was so pumped up, though, that I started literally running in place, just waiting for my chance to break free from the crowd. My enthusiasm unfortunately got a swift kick in the you know what, though. As I was inching my way up, I tripped on an uneven section of the road, almost falling into the poor guy next to me. I felt my ankle cry out in pain. Someone asked, “You ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, on the verge of tears. My worst nightmare at that point was to get injured early in the race. Never did it occur to me, though, that I could get injured before I even touched the starting line.

Thankfully, I was able to shake it off and move ahead.

The gurus at the course presentation (and all the reviews I had read online) weren’t joking about the downhills. Those first eight miles were, at first feel, awesome. After all, a decline usually is awesome. But we all knew we had to pace ourselves, or we’d pay for it later. During this portion of the race, I took it easy, and I was feeling smart.

We then passed through a few small towns in Pennsylvania, including Carbondale, where my grandparents and some of my family live. I knew they wouldn’t be there, but I looked for them anyway. It was a lonely feeling, honestly. But I decided to stay focused on the positive and take in all the good vibes of the moment.

Finally, the downhills had ceased and we were, in all senses of the word, rolling.

At a certain point in a marathon, you start to notice the other runners around you and recognize them as they pass, and then as you pass them. Fun games of leapfrog. Their faces become familiar and comforting, and you realize that all of these people are, in a lot of ways, just like you.

Before I knew it, I had approached the half marathon mark. I was happy to realize I had reached this point in 2:05, which meant there was a chance I could finish the race in 4:00. I was feeling great, actually. I thought if I could just pick up the pace, I could complete the entire thing with a negative split.

The Middle Section

By this point in the race, the outside temperature was rising and I was starting to feel the heat of the day. My left foot was also starting to tense up, a symptom I hadn’t experienced during training. I kept telling myself to relax. “Relax your foot, Alyssa, just relax your foot.”

As fate would have it, mile 15 was the start of the absolute best part of the race for me. From mile 15 to mile 18, I ran in the most beautiful part of the course, in my opinion, and I also got to see my favorite people in the world: Jamie, my mom, my sister and my cousins.

I didn’t realize how happy I would be to see them! Around mile 16, I started picking up the pace a little and I made sure to time my GU gels around our meeting point. For more than a mile, I was completely distracted, pleasantly so, at the thought of seeing them on the course. We had planned a good spot, but I didn’t know exactly where they’d be. The anticipation was unbearable but awesome.

Finally, as I rounded the corner into the park, I could see my mother jumping up and down. This was a signal that the others were close by, and, if I hadn’t already run 17 miles, I would’ve sprinted right to them.

My cousin Nicole made signs which they were holding up, and my mom just couldn’t stop hugging me. I stopped for a little bit to talk with them. I know this added to my overall time, but I didn’t (and still don’t) care. The love and support I felt in that moment meant more to me than anything.

It was hard to part ways with my family, but I had to keep going. The last thing I saw was a sign that said, “Alyssa, We Have Mimosas for You!” Do they know me, or what? Mimosas aside, though, seeing my mom, sister, cousins and Jamie was the most emotional part of the race. It gave me that extra push I needed to finish. It reminded me what I had to look forward to at the end. Essentially, I couldn’t wait to see them again.

The Last 10 Miles

Well, despite the high of seeing my family, my dreams of a negative split crumbled around mile 20. There seemed to be long expanses of nothingness on the course, where there were no crowds and hardly any other runners around me. I remember the moment when I realized that I wouldn’t make it in 4:00. And the moment when I realized I wouldn’t in 4:15. Or in 4:20. My left foot starting aching again. I was stopping for walk breaks more than I wanted to.

At one point, I stopped on the side of the road to try and stretch out my foot (if that’s even possible). A man running by actually yelled out, “I wish I could help you!” That was just the thing I needed. It’s so inspiring to me what a little human interaction can do. His words motivated me to keep going.

My body was breaking down, and I stopped at every water station to give myself a reprieve from the pavement. Looking back, I wonder if I could’ve timed my GU gels differently or if I should’ve drunk more Nuun. By the end, there was about a quarter left of my Camelbak. This was unusual considering I’d typically finish the entire thing during 20 milers. I chalk it up to nerves.

The last two miles were both grueling and insanely fun. This was the part of the race everyone warned us about, on account of the quick, steep uphills. If you take the downhills at the start too hard, this was the part, 20 miles later, where you’d feel it. I’m honestly not sure if that was the case, or if it was your regular run of the mill, “Hey, I just ran 24 miles,” sort of pain.

Nonetheless, I got through it. And what helped was the street party. I’m not even joking. Especially in the last mile, the city of Scranton really did it up with live bands, and people trying to give out Oreo cookies and beer. Yes, I said beer! I didn’t take any of it, regrettably, but it was fun to run through such a scene. It was evident that the people giving out these things had been drinking for a few hours. I really, really wanted to join them, but the finish line was mere minutes away.

After one last uphill, I could see the banner. A woman on the side of the road screamed out, “Wow, you look really good!” She was talking to me. I said, “Really?” Hey, fishing for compliments didn’t seem so awful after running 26 miles. She replied, “Oh my god, honey, you really do!”

I relished every second of that last quarter mile. I found my family again to my left, and I waved to them. I made eye contact and I only hope I let them know how grateful I was that they were there. And then, with determination and a lot of pride, I made my dash for the finish.

It was my moment. I put my hands up and enjoyed it. I remember what it felt like as my foot touched down on the other side of 26.2. Like I had done something amazing. Not amazing when compared to anyone else. But amazing for me.

Nearly 10 months before that moment, I had mustered up the courage to commit to my first marathon. There were a lot of ups and downs in those 10 months. A lot of challenges. But I conquered them all. And how did I know it? Because I was here, and I had crossed the finish line. Someone put a shiny sheet over me. There was a bottle of water. A little dizziness. A random conversation with some guy on a chair. And then there was my Jamie. And my mom. And my sister. And my cousin.

My legs were wobbly. But my heart never felt stronger.