Declarations of a King: 26.2 & Ostriches

Running a marathon has become a less unique thing than it was twenty or so years ago. I bet you can find at least three people you talk to regularly who have run a marathon. As of Saturday, I can be counted as one of the three or more people you know who have run 26.2 miles in one go. To say running a marathon is easy pretty much defeats the purpose of running one. Of course there are those crazy ultra runners or the despicable 17-year-old boys with 0.5% body fat who can run one without any training who will call it easy, but the majority of those who chose to run a marathon are not doing it because it is easy. Running for that long on Saturday was not easy, but oh boy oh boy was it fun. It was an absolutely stunning course (of course it was because it was in Utah= most beautiful state in the nation) through the canyon and the weather was perfect. You know the saying it takes a whole village to raise a child? Well a modification of that saying applies to this experience in my life “It takes a small army of angelic like individuals to help L finish a marathon”. This is the point where I will now brag for an extended amount of time about all the angelic like people who helped me through the marathon. First, would obviously be Sel. This sweet fiancé of mine sacrificed so much to help me do this. Helping me through the six months of training, waking up at 3AM to drive me to the bus the day of, driving all over P-town at 3:30AM to find my favorite powerade (Sour Melon), carrying all my junk around for me, sacrificing a whole day of studying, rushing from mile 21 to the finish line to cheer me on, hugging me after the race even though I smelled like a sweaty corpse, helping me take my ice bath afterward, giving me an hour and a half muscle rub down with icy hot and the roller stick thing, letting me take a nap on his lap for an hour, and finally not punching me in the face when I was grouchy, demanding, or annoying. Sel is the nicest man I have ever met in my entire life J I love him. Now on to Kit. Kit went out and bought five bags of ice to fill my bath tub, put sheets on the spare bed for me, didn’t attack me when the alarm clock went off at 3AM, let me use her shower a whole bunch, didn’t complain when I left me nasty wet cloths in the bathroom, and woke up early on Saturday with Pam to come cheer me on. The Milks also deserve a whole truck load of thanks. They woke up super early on Saturday to be at the finish line, took photos/videos, Mikey ran about a half mile with me at the end, and are pretty much just too fantastic to ever properly thank. My parents deserve a big old thank you for buying me shoes, helping me through the grueling 18-miler training run, buying me nice running socks and a bunch of Gu, and for their moral support for the past six months. Sel’s parents also deserve a shout out for helping me so much with the pivotal 20-miler run, buying me all of the energy items, really fantastic mis-matched running socks (which I wore), letting me borrow the GPS watch, and for all their moral support. (whew, see how overwhelming this list is getting?) My two wonderful aunts sent me a marathon prep box for my birthday full of anti-blister socks, power bars, and a whole bunch of love. Public Thank You’s to the Radom Runner Friends I made : The sweet couple I met on the bus who lent me their emergency blanket, a pair of gloves, a fuzzy head band, and a poncho during the frigid two hour wait for the start because I am a genius and decided I wasn’t going to need a jacket. My awesome new 70-year-old friend (running his 21st marathon) who ran with me for eleven miles of the race and is my official new idol. The random, hilarious girl from Colorado who made me laugh for two miles of the race. My freshman ward bishop who rode alongside of me for three of the miles and let me drink from his waterbottle. The four burley fisherman in the lake who waved at me and told me I rocked. The new mom on her eighth marathon who ran with me for the last four miles. My 60-year-old mustache rockin co-worker who ran up two of the massive hills with me. The ostriches who ran along side of the fence for ¼ of a mile and frightened me severely by repeatedly jumping against the wire fence while I was running by. The 10-year-old boy for being an annoying twerp and psyching runners our for a high five (the motivation to finish the race and go back to where he was so I could high-five him upside the head was fantastically helpful). The people who made me feel like a barn animal by ringing cowbells and shouting “Go! Go! Go!”. The hillbilly lady in the white car who kept cussing and honking at runners and flipping off volunteers as she tried to drive along the clearly gated of road. To Dobby, for letting me use your Dad’s neon fanny pack from the early 80’s to carry my Gu around it. To Pam, Kit, Sel, and Dobby for going up the canyon at night to roast smores in celebration. Finally, to Johnny for being there for me at mile 3 and at the finish.