Candice Chappell attempted to BQ at St. Louis Marathon and had GI problems. After the disappointing result, we discussed it and she decided to take another shot at qualifying by running Country Music Marathon 3 weeks later. It worked.
Read about her awesome Country Music Marathon here.
It's only been about 3 weeks since the St. Louis marathon, but I immediately knew I had to try again and not waste my perfect training on such a horrible day. As luck would have it, the Country Music Marathon was to be held on April 26th in my hometown (a mere 20 days after the April 6th St. Louis marathon). I found it kind of funny that only a month before St. Louis, while out training on the CMM course, I said to my friend "You couldn't pay me to run Country Music again. I absolutely hate the course."
Exactly a month after making that statement, I was planning to use CMM as my "revenge on St. Louis" as I started calling it. Even though I knew I "had" to run CMM, I honestly didn't want to. I was broken. I was tired. And my legs were dead. It was all I could do the past two weeks to get my butt out the door running. I was burnt out. I was done. I did not expect CMM to go well. And truthfully, I didn't care. I just knew that as long as my stomach held together, I would be able to wash the bad taste of St. Louis out of my mouth. And thats all I wanted, really. I had no more dreams. I had no more hopes. I just wanted to run, even though, I didn't want to run :) It has definitely been a love/hate relationship the past month- as New Balance would describe it.
The whole week leading up to yesterdays race, I did not have the usual "Oh my God i'm running a marathon" freak-out thoughts that I usually have. Surprisingly I remained calm, well, the whole time, even right before and during the race.
I rode with a few of my girl friends to the race, and they were all freaking out that we were stuck in traffic. And I was all "lalala" while munching on a bagel. I didn't care one bit whether we were late or really whether we got there at all. At that point I just wanted to go back to sleep.
We did get parked, on the shuttle, and to the start line in plenty of time though. My best friend Deanna and I stood side by side in the very front of corral 4, not really speaking a word. I could tell she was nervous (it was only her second marathon), and she probably thought I was too... but I wasn't. I was just cold, questioning why I just had on a singlet, and wet (it was raining) and wanted to get on with it already. I had crawled out of bed at 3:45 a.m., I just wanted to get the show on the road before I decided to go home.
The rain finally stopped, and the wheel chair start was shortly after that, followed by the elites... and then, well, corrals 2, 3, and finally 4. We were off. Deanna and I still weren't talking. We hit the first mile in 7:46. I didn't care. Who cares if that was too fast or if I blew up later. What could possibly happen to me that hasn't already happened before? I knew that no matter what happened that day eventually the marathon would be over and eventually I could go home. I was worried that Deanna had gone out too fast though.
We slowed a little on the next mile, which was fine too. We got it down to about an 8:11 pace according to my Garmin. Deanna told me to go on, that she probably wasn't going to be able to hang with me. I said "Nah, I don't care, i'm not leaving you- yet."
So I thought I wasn't leaving her... but I did. I looked around and she was gone. Hopefully I wasn't talking to myself before I noticed ;)
Anyway...I started realizing how good I actually felt, and how well I knew the course and what was to come. I could see every hill in my head before I got to it, and I took every hill a little easier, because I knew the BIG hill would be at mile 17. That may sound like I played it cautious, but I actually played it totally wreckless, the pace I was holding was a pace I had never held in a marathon for very long before, but one I had held in training many times. I didn't care. As I mentioned, what did I have to lose?
My friend Jeff (a 2:38 marathoner) was planning to meet me at mile 20 to run the last 6 in with me. I knew I would need some type of encouragement at that point of the race. If things were going well, I would need help sucking it up to stay on pace. If things were going bad, well, I would need him to help me suck it up and finish.
I saw my triathlon coach (kick ass triathlete, kick ass guy) riding his bike on the course near mile 10. I yelled out his name and he rode beside me and kept me company for a minute or two.
Anyway, so far so good. I eventually made it to the part of the course I hate the worst- Metro Center. Miles 12-17. I was on something like an 8:11 pace still. At least, that's what my Garmin said. I didn't care. It felt alright. And by that point I was like "Eh, i'll just hold it as long as I can."
I looked down at my watch climbing the unforgiving hill that is mile 17 and realized "Hey, i'm still on 8:11 pace. How about that. Hmm." Then I thought... "Just make it to Jeff on this pace. 3 more miles."
And I did. I made it to Jeff. We greeted each other with smiles and waves he said "You look awesome! Do you feel okay??" I was like "Hmm. Yea, I guess!" I still didn't really care at that point, but I was glad to have him not only because he brought me a bottle of water with electrolytes, but because I could put some of the weight of the marathon on his shoulders. No matter how much I didn't care, I still had to finish this thing up. I knew I was on PR pace, and definitely on BQ pace, but I also knew that it wasn't over until it was over- so I never once let myself get excited. I never once let myself believe that that was the day I was going to make it to Boston. Somehow I guess Jeff knew that I didn't want to talk about it, because we didn't talk about it. He just kept encouraging me and talking about random stuff with me, which at that point of the marathon, it really helps to have your mind focused on something besides running- like a conversation.
We were almost to mile 22 when we passed a house with an older women sitting out on her porch. She yelled out to me "Giiiirll you gots some rythmn going on!!" I thought that was pretty funny, but also pretty encouraging. I was hurting, as anyone would after 21 miles, but I let the pain settle where it settled. I didn't focus on it, I kept moving one foot in front of the other. This was my revenge. I would have it. Whatever it was.
We made our way into the park that is mile 22-24 where we saw some of our friends who began cheering me on. That was nice. It was nice to hear people tell me I looked good. As we wound through the park Jeff pointed out to me just how many people I was passing. He kept saying "Do you realize how many people you're picking off?" and I didn't realize it. Things were pretty much a blur. The only people that were there (to me) were him and I. He was there pushing me, and I was there pushing. We passed lots of people on the side of the road stretching and hitting the sometimes inevitable "wall" and I kept waiting, and waiting, and expecting, but I never hit it. Jeff kept saying "Don't pay attention to them. Keep moving. Let's keep moving." And I did. I obeyed.
He pointed out to me at one point, I suppose it was mile 24 (to me- the longest mile of a marathon), that I could run 10 minute miles for the rest of the race and still be okay. That was encouraging too, because I knew I wouldn't run 10 minute miles. Why would I do that? I don't run 10 minute miles on my easy recovery days. This was not an easy day.
We made it to mile 25 where one of my older "mentors" I guess you could say (or you could just call him a friend too), also a 2:30 marathoner, met up with us. He began running with us too. At that point I had resulted to speaking in grunts. And he, unlike Jeff, was asking all kinds of questions. Apparently he figured out that I wasn't going to carry on a cheerful conversation so he then began saying phrases of encouragement "One more mile!! Come on now! Pick it up!!" and then they started working together. THEY picked up the pace. They really started pushing me. I held on to their backs like a magnet would hold onto a refrigerator. They were hurting me. But I loved them for it. We were coming up to the 26 mile marker and Jeff said "GET MEAN!! Pay this course back for everything it's done to you!!" and Gary said "GRRRRR!!" I laughed. And I pushed. It felt like I pushed, but I don't know if it looked like I did... but I did it anyway.
As Jeff later described it “I ran the last 6 with Candice, and she was looking awesome. The last couple miles I think were pretty tough, but she didn't let on at all. It was freakin' awesome to watch a cheery, psyched, friendly girl turn into a glazed, committed, intense RUNNER over the course of about 45 minutes.”
So we were down to the last .2. Jeff said "Finish this shit!!!" and jumped off the course. Gary ran a few steps further with me until I was about to round the corner to the finish and he yelled "SPRINT CANDICE SPRINT!! You have Boston!!" so I sprinted. I'm quite positive it didn't look like a sprint though. My poor legs.
And I finished. I finished in 3:39:17. I bent over with my hands on my knees with the biggest, goofiest grin on my face. I had freaking qualified for Boston. WTF?! I had slowed some during the park miles, but Jeff never let me believe that I had slowed, and he had pushed me the last 2 miles. He later told me how scared he was, and how close he knew it would be.
Once I raised up off my knees I looked around and then ahead and spotted my husband Jeremy and my Mom, and I mouthed the words "I did it." to them. They also had the biggest, goofiest grins on their faces. Jeremy said "You did it baby!!" and Mom started screaming "You did it!!" and they both hugged me. My eyes teared up and stayed that way pretty much all day.
I was never once afraid. I was never once hopeful. And then I crossed the finish line and finally, finally there was some emotion to this day. I had done it. I had accomplished something that I had worked so hard for. Not only in these past few months and then in my failed attempt in St. Louis... but also, in the months before that, during the training for other marathons. It occurred to me that my entire running “career” had somehow led me to this day. This perfect, wonderful day. My fourth marathon. My fourth try. My DAY. MY BQ.
It also occurred to me that I had fallen in love with the CMM course. I no longer hated it. I no longer looked at it as "unforgiving", because yesterday, yesterday it forgave. It challenged me. It pushed me to the edge. But it also allowed me to reach my goal. Not only did I BQ, but I PR'd by 12 minutes. A 3:39 marathon ran 3 weeks after another marathon gives me much hope of my future to come with marathons. I'm 23 years old. Where can I go from here? Anywhere I want as long as I don't give up. Because not giving up is the true lesson in this. Life is hard, but you must live it. And you must MUST keep trying.
April 2008 will always be remembered as a lesson learned. I was taught not only that sometimes you can work hard for something, expect to reach your goals, and still fail. I learned that you have to pick yourself up, dust yourself, and try like hell again. And if it happens, it happens. if it doesn't. It doesn't. You just have to keep moving forward no matter what, and keep trying...no matter what.
I believe that the lessons of this month will go with me through the rest of my life. These lessons are also the ones taking me to Boston in 2009. I don't think I could go there without them. :)
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