Race Day: Done and done!

It's one thing to do something you never thought you could do just to prove to yourself that you CAN do it. It's another thing to do that with the knowledge that  you've been part of making a difference in the lives of people you love and people across the country who suffer each day with a disease for which there is no cure. I sit here sore, tired, still a bit cold, and rather overwhelmed with a number of feelings...the biggest of which is gratitude.

But first, let's talk about the race. Koach Karl advised us all to take it easy on Sunday, rest up before the start time. So, Mark and I basically hung out, watched a movie (Fright Night remake, which ironically takes place in Vegas), ate lunch, checked email, and got increasingly anxious as the day wore on. I hate waiting. *grins* We both were just ready to get going!

We started to gear up around 3ish -- we were told to meet down in the lobby at 4:30. The full marathon started at 4:00 and the half at 5:30, but they released each 'corral' in waves, so we didn't actually start until about 6. To avoid standing and waiting outside for all of that time, they wanted us to conserve our heat and energy and meet a bit later. Which meant...more waiting.

Preparing to participate in a marathon -- at night, in the desert, in December -- for the first time was interesting as far as dressing is concerned. Long pants or shorts? Two layers or three? Gloves? Hat? What do I want to have to carry? What if I'm cold? Hot? I ended up in long pants, long sleeved dry-fit shirt, and a zip up dry-fit jacket under my singlet. Mark opted for shorts (and later regretted it a bit, but survived), one long-sleeved dry-fit shirt under his singlet. We both wore gloves, he wore a dry-fit hat, and I had my ear...thingy.

We had race packs with a water bottle and "secret compartment" where we kept our GU fuel chews and chapstick, plus I had some Halls (still haven't stopped coughing) and my list of names (which are still intact!). It was extra weight, but now that it's all over, I'm so glad we had that water.

Meeting up with the team downstairs midst the thousands of other team meetings was an experience, especially with getting pictures taken and trying to look more excited than nervous. Mark was better at that than me.

Mark's family came down to see us off and they looked happy and proud -- almost made me cry right there. I was so happy they were there for him (and me, but mostly him) and were able to share this experience. He has a wonderfully supportive family. Much of what we've been through with this disease would have been so much harder without their help and support. I gave my phone/camera to Mark's sister, Kelli, to see if she could take a shot of the crowd, but it was just impossible. It's so hard to accurately articulate the sheer amount of people there. I've never seen anything like it. We could watch the wave starts on the giant Mandalay Bay screen as we stood in our corral and waited our turn and it was just a surge of humanity.

We were led down to our corral and at first I wasn't cold. The sun started to go down around 4:25, but standing in that crowd, all of those people pressed around, we were rather sheltered from the wind and cold. It was in the low forties at the start and dropped from there. They had a pre-show with interviews and local celebrities. Vegas (or maybe just marathons in general?) was a prime showcase for all of the interesting ways people's minds work. There were all kinds of people in all kinds of dress there.

I counted at least 6 bride-groom pairs (we're talking fancy white dress + tux, bouquet, veil...) who were going to be married during the run (we passed several chapels willing to do the honors). There were innumerable tu-tus, faerie wings, sparkling/flashing lights, bizarre hats, not to mention Elvises (Elvi?), plus Marilyn Monroe and JFK...just to name a few. In the opening ceremony, Casey Abrams from American Idol (who was totally lost on me because I never watch AI and had no idea who he was) and Cheap Trick (whee!) played sets, and all along the route there were local bands set up to play (it was a Rock 'n Roll marathon, after all).

Just before they started to countdown to the first wave, Mike McCready played the National Anthem ala Jimmy Hendrix -- that was very cool -- and then bam! It was starting. It took us about 30 mins to get up to the starting line, but once we did, all the advise about 'not getting swept up' and 'start slow to finish strong' jammed in to my head. We were good, started out at a decent clip, estimating a 15 minute mile.

But it was like walking in a pin-ball machine. The runners passed us on either side -- some even going between us, which wasn't easy, because at the start, Mark and I were walking close -- and though they seemed to try not to, they smacked into us repeatedly. I mean, there were 44K people there -- it was impossible not to get hit if you weren't moving at the same speed as the crowd.

First 3 miles were a sensory assault: lights from the strip (standing on Las Vegas Blvd is one way to get the full effect of all the casinos that are here) and noise of the crowd (both the runners and the spectators) and the rock music all crashed into us, but we just looked at each other and grinned. We were doing this!

We had to stop around mile 4 for a potty break (we were both well-hydrated, and there's no way we were going 9 more miles like that) and as a result, the runners (thankfully) left us behind. It was much easier going from that point forward. We passed every casino/hotel -- even some that were closed -- and I saw the place where I got my first tattoo back in 1997 (was in Vegas for the NFR). Water stops were basically destroyed by the time we got to them -- the street was littered with copious amounts of crushed cups and GU refuel packs. But they always had water -- might have been at the very last table, but they had it, and they reached out to hand it to us. I was glad for my bottle of water when I saw those destroyed stations, but I ran out of that 3/4 of the way through and had need of the water from the last table in the station.

There were several groups of Team Challenge supporters (coaches, mentors) at different points along the way and it didn't matter if we weren't from their particular geographic team, they saw our singlet and cheered us on. It was fantastic -- and really made us feel like we were truly a part of something.

When we left the Stratosphere behind, it got quieter. And darker. Around mile 6, we made a turn into an older part of Las Vegas, heading toward Fremont St. Back in the turns of that path, there were no bands and the lights were further between. At one point I looked up and saw an eerie sight: thousands of people around me, walking at a decent clip, but walking, with ambient light the only thing illuminating us. If I hadn't had my earbuds in, my own pace-setting music keeping me company, I imagine I could have heard their footfalls. It's possible I've seen too many movies because that sight was oddly...spooky.

But, then we hit Fremont and the half-way point and suddenly, we were 'on our way back.' At this point, I was cold, but also sweating, so I wasn't freezing. If that makes any sense. Mark was doing good, he said, and we kept on. Koach Karl found us about mile 9 and walked with us a bit, his presence encouraging us to pick up our pace -- we'd slowed to about a 17 minute mile just out of weariness. I'd also been getting Charlie Horses in my left calf and tried to step differently so that I could stretch it out on the go, but man those hurt.

Around mile 10, Mark had to stop and change his bandage -- the exertion always makes him bleed more -- and Koach Karl went on ahead. I was feeling myself start to tighten up -- my hips, my hamstrings, even my lower back. It wasn't pain so much as a teeth-clenching ache that made me want to whimper with each step...but then I thought of Mark walking, despite his bandage. Walking with the very disease we were raising money to help find treatments for. I saw all the people around me still moving forward. I thought of all the inspirational vids and movie clips that a good friend sent me to keep me moving forward. And I just kept putting one foot in front of the other. Making it happen. Getting closer.

Then, it started raining.

About mile 11, we felt the beginnings of it and pretty soon my face was damp. I glanced over at Mark with a you have got to be kidding me look and saw him grinning back at me, shaking his head. He said that was pretty much the only time he regretted not having long pants on. With the rain came a significant drop in temperature. Koach Karl passed us laughing that it was raining -- that man was all over the course, checking up on each of our Team. We passed the Stratosphere once more and I started to believe we could survive this. I was hurting by that time -- hurting to the point of fantasizing about asking one of the many police men along the way to give me a ride to the finish in his cruiser.

Around mile 12, Koach Karl hooked back up with us, talking mostly to Mark. I focused on my iPod music and keeping moving. Mark took my hand and held it tight and I felt stronger. Koach Karl razzed me that he was pretty sure any woman who'd had a baby could do a half marathon. I told him this was nothing like having a baby and he said that it (meaning labor) looked pretty easy to him. In my (good-natured) indignation, I forgot that my legs hurt so bad. I told him to say more things that made me want to yell at him because it was starting to make me feel better.

He left us when we drew closer to the finish line, letting us have that moment for ourselves. And that's exactly what it was -- all the support we've received, all the people pulling for us, all the donations that were given, even his family coming out to be there with him -- for 5 seconds it all faded and the only people crossing that line, holding tightly to each other's hands, were Mark and I.

We finished in 4 hours and 6 mins. And 27 names were right there with us, tucked safely in my secret compartment.

The minute we crossed the line, we started walking slower, and began shivering. Visibly shaking. The temp had dropped down into the mid-30's and our sweat was making us cold, too. We were supposed to get a medal when we crossed, but (believe it or not) they ran out. We'll get one later, we were assured. I'm not worried. I know we did this. I have the sore muscles to prove it. *grins* They handed us Mylar blankets, which I tucked my shivering body inside immediately, took our picture, and then sent us on our way to check in at the Team Challenge tent. On our way, we passed tables with food and I had what was possibly the best bagel in the entire world.

We met up with his family at the tent and hobbled back into the hotel for a hot shower. I haven't been that cold in a long time. My legs hurt, my feet hurt, and I just wanted to sit down (though, I knew if I did, I wouldn't want to get back up again). One hot hot hot shower later, we headed back down to Ri Ra's Irish Pub where we met up with the team and got our first beer free. I was grateful for the beer (and the gesture) but was more interested in food. We were both starving!

Talking to our other Team members, we found out some who ran actually finished in 2 hours -- one in 1 hr, 50 mins! Others were around the 3 and 3.5 hour mark. Phenomenal. Just wonderful efforts all around. Mark and I said we'd finish in 4 hours, and we did just that. Finish.

With some food in our bellies, we hobbled slowly back to our room and I soaked my feet in ice water 'cause ouch. This morning, Mark says he's sore, but he's moving with a lot more grace than me. My legs hurt. I am walking like I'm 90 with a double hip replacement. But oddly enough, the feeling like I've been hit by a truck isn't there. Yes, I hurt, but I did this! It's done! We finished, in the time we said, right in step with each other, hand-in-hand.

The plane ride home -- or rather, getting up and walking out of that plane when we get back to Kansas City -- should be interesting. I can feel myself stiffening up while I sit here typing this.

I was told that once you finish a half marathon for the first time, you either can't wait to do another or you never want to do one again. I'm in the latter category. But I'm so happy to have been part of this whole organization. I'm so proud of my amazing husband and what he overcame to say he walked a half marathon. No matter what happens with his Crohn's disease and all the pain and heartache that goes with it, he did this. It can't control everything. He looked it in the eye and said, I have you -- you don't have me.

I'm sure he'll have some things to say about what this was like for him, but for me? Walking this marathon was a tremendously moving experience (no pun intended) -- I would have never thought I could do something like this. I went into this because of him, but I finished because of me.

-- Amanda