....you can see where this is going.
So, I'm technically not on Facebook, since I'm not a "people page." Kiwi set me up as a community business/athlete.
Kasha on Facebook
Thanks?
This means that in order for people to find me, they search for my name, then click a little orange flag next to the search options and select Community.
I think.
This is like a fan page. "Kasha Jones" (with the pic of me post-Milestone Half Marathon) on Facebook cannot be friends with anyone or comment on anything beyond the timeline. "It" can only be "liked." Whatevs. So Kiwi did this, updated the status 11 times (accidentally), and knocked out Facebook in Singapore for about 2 hours. It was a special level of annoyance.
Then while I was napping he set up his own email address. For what?? He's already on Twitter (@TheKashaShow), this blog, and now Facebook! Email too?
....as you may have noticed, Kiwi has not interjected his commentary this evening. That is because he is in time out.
Forever.
Okay, until I figure out how to turn off Facebook notifications.
So there was that whole marathon thing, remember? I left off puking at mile 16. Let's finish that race. Usually after you get sick, you feel better. That was not the case. My stomach hurt and the back of my legs seized up tightly! I kept moving through Savannah State and was lucky- a medical tent within crawling, er, running distance. I asked for salt, hoping electrolyte imbalance was my problem. The salt worked so quickly I got some speed back and gained some confidence from my on-the-run diagnosis. Then it happened again. One packet was not enough. By the time I got through the university, I'd gone through 3 packets.
However, the salt was not the sole thing keeping me on my feet. Savannah State students were out in full force. Whether they were working in shifts or just tireless I don't know, but the cheers, comments, and high fives never quit. The stadium had dance groups, cheerleaders, the baseball team, and my ultra crew ready to go again. Brother-in-law Blake and sister Tiffany ran the camera and Kiwi while my sister Lily and I ran around the track. This resulted in a picture posted on Twitter that got picked up by Competitor Group and retweeted to about 30 multimedia markets worldwide.
I'm famous online.
Not really, but it was cool.
Out of Savannah State and toward Washington Avenue, which I had dubbed The Fourth Quarter. I just had to get there, past my high school (Savannah Arts Academy), and back to Victory Drive. I was moving much slower, but still hoping for a sub-5 marathon. On the way back toward Chatham Crescent (a stunning example of old Savannah architecture and landscaping) I thought I heard my name. Nope, couldn't be. Yes, it was! Tiffany ran up beside me with water and Gu chomps. ....I had given my fuel belt to Lily at Savannah State after stuffing Chomps in the ID pocket of my handheld water bottle. I told her I was fine and she later told me I was still moving fast enough that they almost missed me. They were expecting to see me as I first passed our old high school.
Back down Washington Ave into Daffin Park. This felt like home. Most Savannah runners have spent some time running or racing in this area and the familiarity becomes a momentary home field advantage. I felt calm and comfortable beyond the aching in my calves and hamstrings, and still in control of my thoughts. The finish line is less than a 10k away, I'm in a familiar location, and the Fleet Feet group is nearby.
Slight redirect- Fleet Feet Savannah. I can't say enough about our running store. They'll help you find YOUR shoes, the socks that don't rub, the goal race you want, and never fail to look impressed with the distance of your morning run. Fleet Feet breathes running as I do and knowing they're close is like having a friend nearby. I won't need to lean on them today because they are there and that's enough. They are "my people" even though this is anonymous enough that they'll never see it. Thanks, Fleet Feet. You've helped me find the shoes I love and then campaigned to bring a marathon right here to our city. I really can't ask for more. ...but if I could, I know you'd deliver.
...out of Daffin Park and a few back roads toward Victory Drive and the last stretch of Truman. Victory is blocked off in one lane. I love running with the cars. It's how I train, so it is another moment of what feels comfortable. I get on Truman and run-walk to the end. A single medical station has run out of water, but has salt. I use my water to wash it down. I remember turning onto Anderson as I did so many early mornings training with Kylie. It looks long. For a moment I consider crying. My feet ache, my legs are signalling defeat. Then I see it. A neon green vest that can only mean one thing. Camera man. We do not walk on camera. We do not frown on camera. The cameras capture mere moments of our runs, I want to remember how much I love this, not the momentary pain. I smile and run. Just beyond him, another one! The camera men keep me running and smiling down Anderson. They were spaced so well that by the time I turned onto Drayton to finish the race, I'd forgotten I had considered crying.
I ran through the finish at 5:22:37.
40 minutes off of last year's race!
I'm too happy about dropping a minute and a half per mile to care that it is not a sub-5!
I was so excited!
Tiffany and Blake waited while I tried to make sure the runner I trained for the half had finished (win), take off my running shoes (fail), keep down chocolate milk (fail), or even navigate a portapotty (epic fail). We browsed the finisher's village, something I didn't get to do last year; and headed out.
Headed away from the race we passed the clean up crew on Washington Avenue. If the clean up crew was going though, the last runners couldn't be far in front! We got permission to go down a side street to get in front of the last 2 groups of people. I was barefoot and aching, but I was done while they had about 4 miles to go. So we got out and started cheering. They gave us grateful looks and kept going.
I don't care if you're dead last.
You did it and that deserves a cheering section.
We yelled thank yous to the clean up crews and they blew the truck horns in response and gave me (and my medal) a thumbs up.
We decided to blame all the mess on Kiwi (It was a REALLY big mess), and drive home.
Last year, it took a few months for my brain and body to sync into considering another full distance marathon. This time it took 4 bloody toenails and 24 hours.
....let's go, people. These things aren't gonna run themselves.
Halves: 1 down, 5 to go
Fulls: 1 down, 5 to go
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