Running on an angel's wings in the Philly Marathon

It’s been a long time since I last blogged, but I did not want this final day of the year to pass without sharing my last marathon experience.

Farah Jadran's Philly Marathon finisher's medal!

While this was not my fastest marathon or my best overall experience, it was one of the most powerful ones I have ever run.

As you might remember, my last marathon, San Diego Rock ‘n’ Roll on June 2, was a fantastic run. I ran a 3:33:33 and felt strong even after a hilly course challenged every part of my body and mind. However, the next marathon would not go as planned…

I began preparing for the 2013 Philly Marathon in late July, only to find myself injured after a triathlon and missing more and more training runs because I was so busy with work. I was sleeping less each night and feeling less confident in my ability to break 3:30 with every week that passed.

I was weak, slow and scared. A marathon is not a 5k or 10k that can be “eeked out” with some general mileage base and heart and soul. You can’t cheat a marathon and all that it has in its power to play with your mind.

Like my San Diego run, I was raising awareness and funds for Hope for Heather Ovarian Cancer Awareness of CNY for my Teal Mission to Philly. The mission was going strong and we again raised a lot of money for a great cause.

Raising funds is one part of the mission. After that, raising awareness leading up to the marathon and also during it, is the next part of the mission. Finally, completing the marathon itself rounds out the mission. I knew that that final step was going to be tough.

Within six weeks of the marathon, I only hit 18 miles and 20 miles once each and managed a 16-miler on a few occasions with time and energy dictating those runs.

The date of the Philly Marathon was set for Sunday, Nov. 17, and it was meaningful because it would fall only a few days after the anniversary of the passing of Heather Weeks. Heather was the inspiration for the start of the non-profit organization. It was her hope to find a cure for ovarian cancer and to raise awareness among women for this silent killer.

As Heather’s mother, Frieda, would say and remind me… “Heather got her angel wings on Nov. 14.”

Knowing that I would run this marathon three days after Heather’s angel anniversary made me hopeful that I could actually complete this marathon and that I would complete the Teal Mission.

About five days prior to the race, Frieda told me not to worry and then she told me, “You’re running on angel’s wings.” She meant that Heather would be there with me.

On the morning of Nov. 17, someone asked me, “Are you ready for your marathon?” Without hesitation, I broke down and I began crying. No, I was not ready. In fact, I could have gone back to sleep.

I thankfully slept for seven hours the night before the marathon, but when I woke up at 4:30 a.m., I would have gladly gone back to sleep for seven more. But that is not what the mission is about. I was tired. But that didn't matter. I was there to fight. I was there to raise awareness and turn the city of Philadelphia teal.

I continued to feel scared upon arriving to the starting line in downtown Philly. I was worried that I would not be able to finish the race once I started.

Since I was there with a goal to PR, I ran stubborn and went out at the pace I wanted to keep to break 3:30…but, I did this knowing that it wouldn’t last. I knew I would most likely fall off this pace. Nevertheless, I wanted to try.

By the time I made it to my starting corral, I already felt more scared and apprehensive. 

The gun went off, and I began to pray, literally. I probably said more than 500 Hail Mary’s and Our Father prayers during the marathon.

Each time I made it to another mile, I said, “Thank you,” out loud.

By the time I reached mile 8, I knew I was in trouble. I was going to have to power through 18 more miles with no gas in the tank. My mind was tired and my body was farther gone.

With all the running chips stacked up against me, I knew I had to continue fighting for the Teal Warriors and to bring the Hope for Heather mission across the finish line. I passed out ovarian cancer awareness symptom cards to spectators and at water stations, too. This was my focus.

The Philly Marathon also has a half-marathon, and this factor did not help me. When you are about to hit mile 12, the half runners go to the right and the marathoners (and me) go to the left. I could see the finish line and I looked at my watch… I could PR my 13.1 time, but that’s not going to happen. I am going to run 26.2 miles and knowingly get slower and not PR at all.

I continued on my path and said goodbye to the finish line.

The feet that completed the feat.

It’s at this point that I started to notice that there was one familiar name being called out very often as I was running.  

Everyone has their name printed on their official marathon bibs, so every now and then I hear a cheer with my name in it, but more often than anything, I hear another name being cheered for…

“Go Heather!”

The first time I heard it, I looked to see who it was. It was a woman in red that I was passing. Then, a few miles later, I heard it again, but this time it was a different woman. 

After that, I continued to hear many cheers for different women named Heather for the duration of the marathon.

It gave me chills the first time because I knew I was hearing this name for a reason. But when I kept hearing it, I knew that it was happening so that I would keep pushing forward.

As I prayed and heard Heather’s name being called around me, I started to feel a light pressure upon both of my shoulder blades. You can make your own assumption to what that might have meant, but I took it to mean precisely what Frieda had told me prior to this day ― I was indeed running on an angel’s wings ─ Heather's angel wings.

I continued to run with this spiritual power inside me because I definitely had no physical power at this point…which was around mile 15. I still had double digit miles to complete and the certainty that I could finish started to grow.

While I did get slower, more miles than others, I felt that I would make it to the finish line. I was grateful to complete each mile. When I got to mile 16, I said, “Thank you.” And then I said, “Please, just get me to mile 17.” And I did this with every mile marker, until there were no more to be crossed.

I had pain in my legs like I’ve never had before but my heart was filled with hope. During the final mile, I was in disbelief that this horrific battle was almost (and finally) over. I struggled the most I ever have in the final stretch. I had cramps in both legs and I fought past the famous knee-buckling action that hunts down marathoners in the final 800 meters.

But with all my prayers, supporters of the cause and the power of the angels ― I did it. I ran 26.2 miles without stopping, without walking and without falling short of the goal to raise ovarian cancer awareness.

I crossed the finish line in 3:44:33, which is exactly 11 minutes slower than my run on a harder and much hillier San Diego course only five months prior.

I ended up running a solid time despite my lack of training, rest and overall confidence. And I ran a time that still snuck in as my third (out of four) overall fastest marathon times.

If you’re a runner, missing a PR is tough, but I made peace with this “loss” long before the race was over. My goal turned into the desire to finish and stay standing.

When I was finally out of the finishing area, I said this out loud, “That was the hardest thing I have ever done.” And in many ways it was, at that moment. I will have many more “hardest ever” moments in my life, but for now, this one tops them all. I was so frightened by the 26.2-mile feat that I have completed before and I was not sure if I was going to make it.

This marathon taught me that anything is possible, even the impossible.

I wish you all runners and non-runners the best on this New Year's Eve and here's to 2014!

Until my next post, be beautiful and genuine ― in other words, be you!

Riders: Beware the mean racer

On Sunday, Aug. 4, 2013, more than 1,000 other women, myself included, arrived to Oneida Shores in Brewerton, N.Y., to become Iron Girls. This was the fifth annual Athleta Iron Girl Syracuse Sprint Triathlon event to grace the region.

Three years ago, I took on a challenge to become an Iron Girl for the first time. As a long-time runner, I never thought I could complete a triathlon because I had very little experience in both the swim and bike legs of a triathlon event.

No matter, I worked at becoming sufficient in those two events while keeping my running base strong. While practicing the transitions is necessary, there is no comparison to how that part will go when it comes to the actual race day. I went into the 2011 IG race with a little bit of fear and also a lot of excitement thanks to the support of fellow female athletes. The same went for the 2012 race. I completed both with a fire in my heart and fantastic experiences.

This year, I went to the line with the same expectations and rightfully so! Every woman I saw prior to the race was excited and ready to give me a hug and a “good luck” just as I did for them. While you wait on the beach for your age group wave to go off, those interactions with positive people is what keep you motivated and fired up for the race ahead. Otherwise, you would most likely stand there and wonder, “What did I get myself into?” And that is quite natural, but the kind words of encouragement and last-minute hugs and high-fives really do make a difference.

And so the horn went off for the 25-29 age group on the shores of Oneida Lake this past Sunday and I took off in water…

I had a rough beginning in the water since another swimmer’s hand came over me and hit my goggles. She immediately paused her stroke and apologized, which was very kind of her to do. And the right thing to do, right?

I told her, “It’s OK, let’s keep going!” My right eye was filled with water and I tried to figure out a way to adjust it without pausing again. It turned out there wasn’t a feasible way of doing this without slowing down so I let it be. I wear contacts so this was not a great feeling and it was blurring my vision quite a bit. I guess this is part of being an Iron Girl ― goopy lake water in the eye!

I came out of the water feeling fairly strong and with a PR for this leg compared to my previous performances in this race with a 13:26. My first transition took a little longer than planned because I was struggling to peel my wet suit off. Again, it’s part of being an Iron Girl. I got dried off and grabbed my bike in 2:49 and headed out to begin the 18.6-mile course.

I was feeling good and averaging about 19mph on the course while covering a few miles or so thus far. Then, came the railroad tracks…

Thankfully, in all my sprint and Olympic triathlon experiences I have never experienced a bike crash. More importantly, I have never come across a fellow athlete who lacked consideration for his or her fellow racers.

As I proceeded to cross the tracks, as I have done in the last two years of this event, I noticed a racer to my left who was coasting and braking (something you should not do on railroad tracks) while also turning her front wheel toward me. I began shouting, “Stop!” and “Watch out!” but she didn’t stop and kept heading toward me. Her wheel went into my front rim and I knew what was coming.

In reality, it all happened so fast, but I could see and feel myself flipping off my bike and bouncing on to the railroad tracks and on to some nearby grass. I looked up only to see the crash-causing racer continuing on her way… Never slowing down. Never looking back. And most certainly, she didn’t stop or make an effort to ask if I was OK. Most importantly, the word “sorry” was never mentioned.

Fortunately, I started to gather my bearings to get back up and get back on the bike. I still had 16-some miles to go and that was a daunting fact to fathom at that moment given my fall and the pain I was feeling. While I was working on getting back into the race, women coming to the tracks slowed down and gave me encouragement and actually expressed care: “Are you OK?” and “You can do it!” were most common and one woman actually came to a stop just past me and asked, “Do you need help?”

All these wonderful women helped me realize that I could indeed finish and despite one person’s poor sportsmanship, there were a thousand other supportive women who had the right mindset for this race: Empower one another above all else.

With that, I got back up and kept going. My lower back was hurting because of bruising and a cut and my arms were banged up too. My neck hurt from falling on my back and then another concern began. While I biked as best as I could while being shook up and in pain, my timing chip on my left leg got really tight. I looked down to see that my left ankle had begun to swell from the fall and it was noticeably bigger than my right ankle.

I contemplated stopping altogether after the crash and then considered it again after I realized my ankle was in bad shape and started to hurt more with each push on the pedal.

I pushed forward and honestly, much of it was anger toward the person that was out there racing with such disregard for the racers around her. I kept hoping nothing like this would happen to anyone else while she was still out there. I did not catch up to her on the bike course, and despite my ankle injury, I knew I would catch her on the run.

I struggled to finish the bike portion and came in at 1:04:49 and then took 1:13 in the second transition.

Now, came a true test, a 5K on one good foot.

My ankle, along with the side of my left leg throbbed with each foot strike and my arms ached with each swing. The pounding on the pavement sent shocks to my lower back and my neck, which were not faring well after the fall.

But once again, the encouragement around me, from other racers, was motivating me to tough it out. I wouldn’t be an Iron Girl if I didn’t at least try to finish at this point.

With this always being my strongest leg of the race, I wanted to prove to myself that someone else’s rude and inconsiderate actions would not bring me down or bring the empowering spirit of the race down too.

I actually spotted the racer that knocked me off my bike and I passed her with ease. I didn’t bump her or say anything at this point because that would be wrong of me to ruin someone else’s race for no good reason. I held true to my belief in good racing etiquette and good sportsmanship.

I powered through the run and complete the 5K course in 22:01. My run put me at the top of the field for my age group and this time also placed me seventh overall for the running portion of the race.

I completed the entire course in 1:44:18. It was not a PR from last year’s performance and it was not what I set out to accomplish. Besides missing out on a PR, I missed out on a shot at winning my age group ― a great possibility had the bike gone smoothly. But since I’ll never know, that idea can only be categorized as a “hypothetical” scenario.

I waited at the finish to see the infamous racer. I waited until she had caught her breath and had been done for a short while. I approached her and asked if someone crashed while she was on the tracks. The look of fear was in her eyes. I knew she couldn't believe that the person she sent falling had found her so long after it had happened. She gave me very little reasons that made sense and also the most important part was her disregard and the way she plainly did not care what happened.

A simple “sorry” or genuine interest in the well-being of someone she knocked over would have made a difference in this moment, but she chose to be set in her way of being irresponsible and inconsiderate and having no sportsmanship whatsoever.

I shared this information with officials, but also am sharing it with my blog readers so that you know how much it means to be a responsible racer and a considerate one at that.

I would hate to think "there's always one in the bunch," but maybe there is.

The spirit of racing stays strong and shines bright when everyone gets a shot at swimming, biking or running his or her best. It’s unfortunate that this happened and I can only hope she will learn a lesson and never act with such contempt when out on a race course again.

I am disheartened by this incident and even now as I type, I am still fuming over the “what ifs” and the way someone could be so rude.

I am now focusing on a sprained left tendon near my ankle with pain that is shooting up the side of my leg. I have a marathon in November (Philly) and a BQ under my belt… The race(s) must go on.

Until my next post, be beautiful and genuine ― in other words, be you.