"The pride will last longer than the chafing.."

As of yesterday, I am officially a marathoner. I had doubts as to my sanity before, during, and after the race but the title remains. I have joined an elite group of people (<5% of the population) who can say "I have completed a marathon and lived to tell about it."

I think it was George Sheehan who said that "The difference between a jogger and a runner is an entry blank." I believe that there are many other factors involved in becoming a runner but the fact remains that it only takes one race to earn the title of "Marathoner." Now, at this point it's too soon to decide if I'll ever do one again but the fact that I've done this one is beyond any expectation I had for myself when I first started running about 5 years ago.


I had originally set a goal of finishing the race in 5 hours or less. I was far from it (6hr20 minutes was my chip time, 6 hours of actual running if you count 2 bathroom stops & stretch breaks) but I sorely underestimated the course and even more, my abilities.

The race itself was pretty cool, all 26.2 miles of it (although my GPS registered about 26.4 by the time I remembered to push stop after the finish line). Here's a brief overview...

The weather was cool, probably cold by valley standards, and the first few miles were uneventful. We started at Union Square where we (my partner in crime, Kate) finally crossed the starting line at about 7:20 and continued through the financial district of San Francisco until we emerged onto the Embarcadero. Kate and I separated, and then met up briefly around mile 5. It was miles 6-7 that officially did me in the for the race.

It was mostly uphill and my hamstrings were pretty well shot when it finally leveled out, only to hit more hills until mile 10 or 11, when the half marathon split from the full. The scenery was beautiful, running through Golden Gate Park and then back towards the ocean, and eventually the finish line. I can't describe how unnerving it is to see the finish line and know you are no where near done with your race.

The marathon proceeded down the Great Highway around mile 17, paralleling those that were only 2 miles from the finish. That to me, was one of the hardest parts. Knowing that the finish line was again so close but I still had 8+ miles to go before I would be there.

Around mile 19, you begin to loop around Lake Merced. Not the most scenic but at least for my sake, it was flat. As you climb out of from Lake Merced, you begin the journey toward home with about 2.5 miles to go.

A lady we had met at the start in the port-a-potty line had mentioned that her fastest split times were the last 3 miles of the race. I didn't expect that to happen to me but when I hit mile 24, as my legs picked up speed (believe me it wasn't much), I began to realize what she was talking about. Something else takes over your legs and you move faster than you had thought you could after running that far for that long.

I had a lot of time to observe the people around me. You see a lot of emotions during a race of this magnitude and only those who have been there personally know what I'm talking about.

A race like this brings with it, many highs and lows- some of which you experience personally and some of which you experience from a distance. Near the turnoff for the half marathon finish, I heard a woman tell her coach/running partner, through tears "Don't leave me." It was all I could do not to break down in tears myself, even though there times of my own when I doubted my ability to finish the journey I had started. There were several of these moments during the race, mostly when there were no crowds or other runners around to focus my attention towards.

Along with those lows, there were many highs when the feelings of pain and weakness had seemingly subsided, even for mere moments. For brief spurts I felt invincible, strong, and able to fight off that little voice. The voice told me that I had reached my threshold, that I could take no more pain, to give up and make it stop. It's that ability to ignore those voices and push beyond the self-imposed threshold that separates the strong from the weak, both mentally and physically.

The title of my post comes from something I heard one woman tell her friend as they approached mile 24/25. I can only assume that she was complaining about how bad the chafing was and that the pride of finishing such a race, the marathon, would last way longer than the chafing will.

I, too, had some chafing issues of my own so I knew exactly where she was coming from. I also know the pride because, along with 19,999 other runners and walkers, I am a marathoner.