Rock and Roll Marathon- Sometimes You Get the Race You need, Not the Race You Wanted

There are good races and bad races in racing, but everyday you race is a good day.  
We went to NOLA Rock and Roll marathon with no sort of plan other than to get it done.  In the end that's what we did.

Our training had been minimal at best, getting only one one run over 13.1 miles done.  We had felt good on that long run.  Once at the expo we decided to aim for a 5:30 race (I never said we were super speedy).  This would make this our fastest marathon.  On race morning we also decided to stay together for this race, knowing each one of us would need a little extra push at some point, we just didn't realize how big of a push would be needed.  
The morning was cold and windy, then we turned a corner (literally) and it was hot!  The sun was beating down on us by the time our wave started around 8am, the wind was steady.  We headed out towards the Garden District, stripping clothing.  We were down to our shorts and singlets by the second mile.  We were also needing to stop to stretch in this second mile.  We listened to the bands play brass and southern rock, as the smells of bar-b-que began to fill the morning air.  We were on pace; we were actually a minute ahead of pace for the first 10 miles.  All was good in this moment, the bands were playing, our legs were loosening out, and we were feeling good (minus all my potty breaks).  

 As we headed to the  French Quarter some of the half marathoners were starting to fall off their own pace.  We gave encouragements as we passed, hoping to give them that edge as they stride into their last 5 miles.  Running through the French Quarter on streets normally filled with angry drivers and drinking patrons, was a refreshing New Orleans experience.  We could hear the tuba player outside of Cafe du Monde, as the barges started to wake up on the Mississippi.  We finished off the French Quarter portion with cheers and headed out to the lake.  This run up Esplanade would be about 2 miles.  At the end of it the half marathoners would break off to the finish line and leave only a few of us still pushing on.  As we approached our turn on to a short out and back road Patrick began to feel his calf pain worsen and then tighten to an unbearable pain.  He described it as a feeling that his Achilles was going to break off.  I don't care who you are if that's the description of your pain that's not good.  We began to walk at about 12.5.  From here till about mile 15 we would be slow.  In fact our pace was too slow, at that pace over the next 13 miles we would be in danger of being pulled from the course.  We negotiated back and forth over me leaving a running ahead.  I would not be able to recatch the 5:30 pace, but I could still push out to beat my IMCHOO time.  Patrick was in pain that no course massage, stretching, or ibprophen was helping (we were looking for some Biofreeze but that was limited on the course and would remain elusive until mile 25).  

After much encouragement from Patrick, I kissed him and headed out to finish the race.  There was one problem, my legs thought we were already done.  I ran about 200 yards on legs made of cement and rebar, then had to walk again.  This continued for about a half a mile.  I glanced back to see where Patrick was to find that he was gaining on me.  He grinned having been caught.  I found out later he wanted me to be his rabbit, someone to chase to help him try to push through the pain.  We were back together heading into mile 19.  I looked over to Patrick and told him I wanted to catch the guy in the Blerch shirt (my favorite running comic).  Patrick looked back at me and said, "I know."  I knew it would take some time.  But as we made the turn along the lake front I could see my target. We were about 3/4ths of a mile back.  Having 5 miles to go I knew I could catch him.  Little by little we crept up on him.  I was having some pretty serious abdominal/side pain, this had happened before so I was pretty sure my appendix was not bursting.  Just before mile 23 we caught him and passed him, it was a little victory but what we both needed.  We cheered him on as we passed.  Then step by heavy step we moved into the final 5K.  
Here in these final miles we would pass and cheer others (rabbit after rabbit behind us)  but we would no longer be passed.  We were putting our race back together and we were doing on the spirit from each other.  Each mile feeling a little stronger.  At the last band stand at 25 they began to play Tom Petty's "Last Dance with Mary Jane".  We took a seconds pause, this mile was our last dance.  We pushed on. 
As we approached the finish line we agreed to not sprint it out.  But then the final 300 yards opened up.  We looked at each other- it was almost over, it was a hard road, but it was our road.  200 yards, we lengthened our stride.  100 yards, hand in hand we ran.  I may have gotten a little excited, as I heard Patrick say "whoa" and we slowed only slightly to keep his legs from cramping up more.  That was it!!!  DONE!!!  

At the finish line there still stood volunteers and announcers.  They high fived us, patted us on our backs, handed us our medals, water, chocolate milk, beads, and jackets.   
We may not have met our time goal, we may not have had our fastest marathon, we may not have done it as others would have, but what we did was amazing.  
If you take away the medals, the visors, the jackets, what stands before you is still the glory you have in your heart for the sport, the commitment, the effort, and the love.  I would not wish for a better day or a better race.  This race was ours, this day was wonderful, and tomorrow we will learn again.   

Awesomeness!!!