Marathon Preview Day: When Race Day doesn't go as planned… and why that's okay.

           Friday morning was the preview to the Tel Aviv Marathon.  My sponsor for my MQP (work here) picked me up at my apartment at 5:40 a.m. and we headed into Tel Aviv.  I won’t bore you with the details of eating energy gel, hydrating, stretching, etc.  But, at 6:30, it was time to hit the start line. 

            Sometimes, I feel like a fish out of water here.  I don’t speak Hebrew, so I’m not in the “in crowd”, but standing on the start line on Friday, it didn’t actually matter.  English or Hebrew, it’s still the same sport and we’re all runners. 

            I started chatting with a woman at the start line (always first in Hebrew, and then after a second of my blank face and shaking head, the conversation turns to English).  She asked me what distance I was running and what my speed was.  We talked a little bit more about training and where I was from, and then it was time to be off. 

            I may not know Hebrew, but I've been running and competing long enough that I do know what the start of a race looks like (and if all else fails, you just start moving when all the people in front of you do; the hard part?  Now, that's the awards ceremony).  The organizer counted down from five (luckily my numerical vocabulary encompasses that much), and then everyone started shuffling towards the start line. 

            Going in, I had a plan.  Aforementioned running buddy recommended I run the first third at a warm up pace, the middle third a little quicker and the final third at my marathon goal pace.  The whole idea was to shoot for negative splits, a.k.a. get gradually faster throughout the race, not slower. 

            But, that’s never been my strong suit, so I just ran my race (albeit with a wrong turn in there, adding an extra mile) which got into my head a little bit, but I powered through (my last mile was brutal, but surprisingly not the slowest of my race, and I didn’t walk or give up even though as I wanted to).  

            There's a point in a run where you're hot and tired and hurting so much and you don't think you can go forward.  When you're by yourself, it's easy to stop your watch and give up for a couple minutes and then when calculating your splits pretend it didn't happen, but when it's a race, and there's a medal (or trophy) on the line, that's when the training matters, when you wished you had pushed a little harder, given a little more.  Friday was a little different, because it was a race, but it was also meant for training.  It was the dress rehearsal.  If you forget a line in your play, do you get to walk off the stage and stumble through the rest?  If you just give up like that, how do you know that's not going to happen tomorrow when it's the real thing (or in my case, three weeks from now)?  

            As a runner, you learn to ask yourself, "You hurting?" and respond, "Okay, keep going".  You ask yourself, "Are you hot?" and then dump water on your head if that's the case (and it was almost 70 by the end of the race, and let's be real, I don't do well with anything greater than about 60; I was dying.  They were handing out water bottles, which I thought was weird-- what happened to small cups of water?-- but then it got hot and I started pouring the excess water on my head, arms and neck, and let's be honest, it got me through.)  

(Just in case I haven't been clear enough about the amount of palm trees around here)

            As a runner, you feel pain in your joints and muscles and ask yourself if it's time to walk, but what's that going to do?  If I can't finish 23 miles, how the heck am I supposed to finish 26?  You race in a foreign nation, in a different language, but it's still the same thing.  A marathon is still going to be 42 kilometers, even if you think in miles.  The marathon is still in 3 weeks.  And running, it still hurts.  It's still hard.  I'd like to think that if you're in another country, it's easier, but it's still the same world.  It still has it's challenges.  

           That's something I've thought a lot about, because it's easy to think the grass is greener on the other side, but what if a city is built on sand dunes?  Or in the desert?  Where's the grass?  

           I like it here.  The park, the ocean, the people, the food (mostly all things chocolate), but it's definitely different.  I wouldn't call it better or worse, but it's definitely an experience.  

           It’s funny.  You know, I’m in a foreign country, in a huge park, in a city that I’ve scratched the surface in.  And yet, during that run, I kept seeing people I knew or had talked to at least.  My Israeli running buddy (more on him later), who wasn’t racing but training that day, passed me and called my name.  My sponsor who was running the 18k and drove me down, passed me at one point.  Another guy from work looped by a couple of times.  And the woman from the start line greeted me when we crossed paths. 

           The last couple miles got pretty rough.  I missed a water stop because when the volunteers weren't immediately ready with it, I was too stubborn to lose a couple seconds, and sitting here right now writing this, looking at this picture (do you see the "I think I need to cancel my Tel Aviv marathon registration and never do this again" look on my face?), I'm not sure what decision I'd make put in that situation again.  By the time I hit the 34k sign, I was still moving, albeit fully conscious of the fact that if I hadn't made a wrong turn I would have been done by then. 

         When I finally crossed the finish line, it took them a minute to untangle the medals, and I sipped water gratefully, before taking my medal and lying down in the grass until I realized that the Hebrew I was hearing was not announcing runner's finishes but was the awards ceremony.  That was a whole experience in itself because I had no idea what distance or categories they were announcing and I was sure I was going to miss my entrance, but as you can see below, I figured it out somehow (or heard my name).  

         I was a little bummed afterwards since my extra mileage upset my chances of a podium finish for women overall.  I won my age group (Female 20-29).  There's something to be said for long distances and incredibly small races and placed 5th of all women (but only 21 competed in that distance).  But, as you can see below, life could be worse (and now that I’ve come within 2.6 miles of a marathon this month, I can’t be too worried about race day which don't worry, I will not be bailing on).  Plus, my mom always taught me to reframe situations like these.  I still ran really well, maintained a good pace, finished feeling good (well as good as I could, considering the distance) and made the podium.  And for the record, it's not like it was the real marathon (and there, there will be enough people that I won't get confused on the course).  Additionally, I had fun (I think).  

  

          Afterwards, I chatted with some people for a few minutes (as a random aside, one woman told me I seemed like too interesting a person to want to spend my life on something as boring as Six Sigma and also called it something like "the worst thing that you could do to your organization", but she was simultaneously a very nice lady: prime example of Israeli forwardness).  

          Then I caught a taxi to the HaCarmel Market, since I had been wanting to go back since the first time I went but it closes at 4 p.m. during the week and is closed on Saturdays so I hadn't gotten a chance.  I spent way too much money on chocolate Halva and felt slightly guilty about it (I'm warning you now; don't fall into the trap.  If you buy a piece, make it really small… No one needs $17 worth of cake… except, I suppose, me.  And I guess my haggling skills (or lack of trying) could use some work.  

          Finally equipped with way too much Halva, a little bit of Turkish Delight (still not sure how I feel about it), gummies and a bit of other candy, Challah, a pretzel, fruit (dried and fresh) and veggies, I made my way out of the shuk (I still need to try some of that Baklava).  At the edge of the marketplace, I found a ton of preprepared food being sold for Shabbat (that was some awesome rice, beef and potatoes I had for dinner) and then grabbed a cup of Pomegranate juice before heading home.  

          I thought I was going to fall asleep on the train home (but then I would have ended up who knows where just in time for Shabbat to start; don't forget, no public transport on Shabbat).  But, I managed to get back by 1 p.m.  I half considered going somewhere for the rest of the weekend, but especially because I only had an hour before trains stopped, my couch won the ultimate contest (great choice and got some much needed rest and recovery).  

    I'll be back with updates in a couple of days, but until then, have a good run.  Catch you later.