As those of you who read this blog know, I ran the Monument Half-Marathon last year and decided to come back this year for the full. Though I knew from the half that the course would be challenging and that I should manage my expectations when it came to time goals, as the days approached, I found myself printing a 4:30:00 pace bracelet off the Internet just in case. I had a 4:35:00 pace bracelet the day that I set my PR of 4:30:54 at Grandma's Marathon in 2022, and it helped to be able to just glance down and see where I was at in terms of time. (Pace bracelets tell you not just what your pace per mile should be, but what time you should be at each mile, so you don't have to try to do math in your head in the middle of everything). I figured the bracelet would just give me something to shoot for in terms of time, and if I didn't make it, fine, but at least I had a goal pace in mind.
On the Thursday before the race, I sent Carrie N. a Facebook message that said, "Now is the time pre-marathon where I start overanalyzing stats and having thoughts like, 'This race will be about the same temp as Grandma's, but it will be hillier. But there will be no humidity. But...'" This only got worse in the next couple of days. I am prone to anxiety dreams, and the night before the race, I had one about work, of all things. When I woke up, the first thing I thought was, "Oh! You weren't feeling well at Grandma's this year! You thought you were catching a cold! You're feeling better today!" I kept finding reasons to be optimistic.
My parents dropped me off at Five Rocks Ampitheatre on race morning to catch the shuttle to the Wildcat Hills. It was really foggy, and as we approached our destination, the shuttle driver said something like, "Thank you for coming! I hope the fog lifts and you get to experience some of our natural beauty out here!" When we got off the bus, volunteers were there to greet us with a table all set up with water and food. They welcomed us and told us we could go inside, where we would find bathrooms and places to sit down. In line for the restroom, I struck up a conversation with a woman wearing a Grandma's Marathon sweatshirt. Then several of us went upstairs to an open room with chairs all around the perimeter. Someone joked, "Are we the elites, or what?!" I saw another woman with an Indianapolis Monumental Marathon cap, and I went over to tell her I'd done that one, too. "I used to live in Evansville!" I added. She gave me a blank look at the mention of Evansville. It turned out that she was from California and trying to run a marathon in all fifty states; Nebraska was actually her last. I realized that though it was a small race (I later learned that around eighty people had started the Full, with seventy-six finishing), a lot of people were from out of state. Some were from neighboring states like Colorado and Wyoming, but I also talked to people from, or overheard people mention, Pennsylvania, New York, and Montana. Some, like the woman from California, were working towards all fifty states and using this as their Nebraska race.
We went outside to line up. The race benefits Western Nebraska Community College scholarships, and members of the basketball team were lined up with pace signs to show us where to line up. Someone jokingly said to one of them, "You're going to be pacing us, right?" The basketball player gave him a look of utter panic and horror. The guy asking laughed, all, "You're like, 'I was just told I would be holding a sign."
We took off. I'd been warned beforehand not to go too fast down the hill. I did okay. I was a little faster than goal pace, but not terribly so. One lane of the four-lane road was closed for us runners. The basketball players passed us in their cars, cheering. For the first ten-eleven miles, there were a few runners that I went back and forth with consistently, including an older man who was run-walking. I would pass him when he walked, and he would pass me when he ran. My parents were at a few different stations cheering me on. By the halfway point, I was a little off of my 4:30:00 goal pace, but not bad.
Though elevation started to gradually climb at mile twelve. Miles fourteen-sixteen had the steepest elevation gain. I'd had to go to the bathroom for awhile at that point, and I kept bribing myself, like, "After you get up the hill, you can stop at a port-a-potty. No, after you pass these two people, you can stop at a port-a-potty." This resulted in me accidentally, almost comically bursting out of the port-a-potty just as the two people I'd previously passed came by. I left them behind for good at mile eighteen or nineteen, I think, just after we entered the dirt road to the back side of the Monument.
The next stretch was rough. Though last year, running the half, I was amazed at how beautiful it was behind the Monument, coming up so late in the race, I couldn't really appreciate it. It was also at that point that us runners really spread out. After I passed the two people at the backside of the Monument, I I swear to God, I passed no one else, and no one else passed me. I had slowed down way off goal pace at that point, and it didn't really help that there was no one close to catch, or who was close enough to catch me. That part was really mentally hard.
Not long before the end of the stretch behind the Monument, there was a great Barbie-themed aid station. They called it the Mojo Dojo Casa Aid Station, and everyone was wearing costumes and calling out things like, "Great job, Barbie!" That perked me up a little. Finally, I reached the part of the race where I was back in town. With all of the runners spread out like we were, the people at the aid stations would get really excited when one of us approached. Some girls made a tunnel for me to run through at one point. My parents showed up at two more aid stations.
So I'll do these little mental tricks when I run, like, at mile 23, instead of saying to myself, "You only have a little more than three miles to go!," I will say, "You've got less than four miles to go!," so that way it seems like a treat when it's actually MUCH less than four miles. This caused me to momentarily panic, however, because I had a moment where I thought that to myself, then calculated how long it would take to finish and thought, "OH MY GOD, AM I NOT EVEN GOING TO FINISH IN UNDER FIVE HOURS?!" Then I realized, "Oh, yeah, you don't actually have a full four miles to go, you should be fine."
Heading towards the finish line, you go down a paved path through/past the cemetery, then you get on gravel again to head back to Five Rocks Ampitheatre. There, there was a steep downhill with a sign warning to beware of loose gravel, and a volunteer warning to be careful. I had another little freak-out moment where I thought, "OH MY GOD, AM I EVEN IN CONTROL OF MY LEGS AT THIS POINT?! WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN?!" But I was fine. Then you have to take a steep uphill back up, which I was not cool with at that point, but again, I was fine.
I finished in 4:55:13, far off of the lofty 4:30:00 goal, but better than my worst time of 4:56:32.
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