In the fall of 2017 the Olympic Trials Marathon Qualifying period opened. Ever since the disaster at the 2016 trials I had wanted to go back and get another chance of doing it right. With my 40th birthday quickly approaching I figured the sooner I qualified the better my chances. I spent the entire year focusing my training on the Chicago Marathon where I had run my first qualifier in 2014. My training was exactly as I hoped and I felt like I was running as fast as I ever had. Disaster soon struck when I became ill with a fever just a few days before the race. I knew it had likely compromised my racing ability but due to the fact that I couldn't get my airfare or hotel money back I flew to Chicago hoping I would feel a lot better by race day. I was feeling remarkably better and decided to give it a try. The first seven miles or so went flawlessly and I thought maybe I could still pull it off but I soon started to fatigue. At halfway I was on pace but I knew I was in trouble. By 17 miles I had slowed so significantly that there was no hope of qualifying. I made the decision that rather than struggle to the finish and tank myself even further to drop out and try again another day. It was my first DNF in a marathon and it hurt immensely.
I quickly refocused on another attempt though and that helped with the disappointment of not achieving my goal after all the hard work I'd put into preparing myself. Instead of relaxing through the holiday season like I'd planned, I kept training hard for a chance at qualifying in Houston in January. I started to think maybe this would be an even better opportunity than Chicago. The extra couple months of training was paying off and I continued to see my times improve. I started to think about PRs and possibly breaking 2:40 if conditions were ideal as well as being able to compete for the masters prize money since the race fell after my 40th birthday. I was excited and honored that Houston had allowed me to compete in the elite division. I was hopeful that in the end, I wouldn't even mind the setback in Chicago if things went my way in Houston.
But I didn't get the storybook ending I was hoping for. I tried everything I could to avoid getting sick as race week approached but influenza was spreading like fire. We'd all gotten our flu shots but I was hearing the shot wasn't effective this year. The week before the race my kids all got sick. I wore a mask and tried to stay away from them. I felt like a horrible mother that rather than nursing them while they were sick I was worried about myself but I had put in way too much work to have it all spoiled again. But honestly with a house full of sick kids it was inevitable. Just a day or two before flying to Houston it hit both Jason and I. I was trying so hard to stay positive mentally. "It is just a cold" I kept telling myself. But the cough was bad, very productive and settling deeper. The symptoms were similar to influenza but I questioned whether that's really what it was because I didn't quite get sick enough. Later I learned those who had the flu shot had milder symptoms and in hind sight I'm pretty sure this was influenza. But I'd already made the decision there was no dropping out of this one.
I had a fabulous time in Houston mingling with the elite athletes that were there. The race had attracted a big crowd of some of the top distance runners in the country. However, whenever we were at meals or just mingling in the hospitality suite I kept wishing I felt good enough to enjoy this amazing experience more fully. My head pounded. The cough was relentless and getting worse and I felt much more like crawling into bed. But I hadn't had a fever yet. Maybe I was in good enough shape to still pull this off. I gave up the ideas of a PR or breaking 2:40. I was going to slow it down a bit and just aim for that sub 2:45 qualifying time. We studied the WADA list of banned substances to figure out what I could actually take to minimize my symptoms. Anything I could do to try to give myself I fighting chance of feeling good enough to pull this off was worth a try.
The night before the race was the worst yet. I finally felt a fever coming on but refused to take my temperature. At this point what did it matter? That morning as I crawled out of bed my first thought was, "How in the world am I going to run 26 miles when I feel this terrible and just want to go back to bed?" I took all my medications hoping for some relief. I didn't even have a glimmer of excitement in me about the race. As I sat down to breakfast I was choking back tears for the sake of my friends we were rooming with, not wanting to share my discouragement with them before the race. It was COLD for Houston. Barely above freezing and the cold air made it hurt to breathe. I was grateful for a warm tent for the elite athletes but eventually I had to go out and face the cold.
I'll spare you the play by play of the whole race but once I got into the race I was surprised at how well I was actually feeling. The pain killers seemed to have kicked in and once I was running the coughing stopped and I felt like I could breathe. I was hitting my splits and feeling better and better as the miles went on through the first half. Shortly after the half we turned back towards the city though and found out for the first time that we had had a tail wind all the way out. We'd be going back into the wind. I still held onto my pace for several miles but the illness and the wind was starting to take a toll on my body. By 18 I was worried but still on pace but by 20 the wheels fell off. It was a struggle to get through the last 10k. One of the hardest of my life. People were flying past me. I started to get tunnel vision and worried I would black out. Somehow I staggered across the line in 2:49:18.
I was devastated. I was escorted back to the elite suite feeling the whole time like I might pass out. The coughing that had subsided came back with a vengeance. The room was emptying out quickly with me being at the tail end of the elites. I was mostly alone and the tears just wouldn't stop. Jason came and found me. He didn't try to tell me I'd run well. He knew me better than that. He just gave me a shoulder to cry on.
I actually felt I ran an incredible race that day considering the condition I was in. It was good enough to win the masters division as well. But the bottom line was that at the end of the day my name still wasn't on that list of Olympic Trials Qualifiers. I was heartbroken. Few people really understand how much work goes into my preparation for a race like this. And I couldn't help but feel it was all in vain. Later talking to my coach we discussed that I probably never should have attempted the marathon that day. I paid dearly for what I put my body through. I can't remember the last time I was so sick. I spent a solid week not even able to get out of bed. But I think the emotional damage was worse than what I put myself through physically. I was depressed for quite a while. I had put my whole heart into this and it hurt. I found myself questioning whether this was what I really wanted. Was it worth putting so much into this only to fail? Was this worth all the time and energy I was investing? But I knew I had the ability to do this. I don't think I was being overly confident or arrogant. I just knew based on my training and my past races that if conditions were right and I was healthy I had the ability to achieve this. And if I wanted my kids to learn one thing from this it was that I wasn't a quitter. So after a lot of debate, my coach and I decided I would take a much needed physical and emotional break from marathon training. I would focus for a while on my family and other more important things than running but come fall I was going back to Chicago.
