Well, this is a marathon: It hurts. But out on the LA Marathon course there were A LOT of cool people. My favorites? The ones with oranges. The ones with homemade cupcakes. The ones with tiny cups full of Chex Mix. The ones with trays of Dixie Cups full of beer (I didn't take one because I was afraid I'd run right off the marathon course, but isn't that FUN?!). People just came out in droves to cheer and/or watch the suffering. There were bands playing along the way, kids with funny outfits and signs, a HOT DOG STATION, it was all just a really amazing experience to see all the people who came out. The weather was just perfect too ... great for the runners AND the spectators. It was really, really cool. And I really loved the oranges. A lot. I must have eaten a thousand orange wedges in the middle and end stages of the race.
All of this distraction and encouragement really came in handy during the run. We broke off in pairs a lot, with me pretty much always bringing up the rear with Paul. The guys were so awesome to stay with me, and when Michael and John had to run ahead to check in with the camera crew, Paul stuck by me and talked me through the rougher bits (there were quite a few). As we wound through Beverly Hills, he talked to me about running Comrades (a 56 mile ultramarathon in Africa), and very patiently reminded me in his South African accent that marathons are by definition tough, that it was supposed to hurt. What a dear man. I can almost forgive him for making me look extra frumpy and slow by being tall, slender, athletic, and walking along next to me checking his iPhone as I jogged at snail's pace. Almost.

DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN HERE? I mean, dude. He runs a 3:10 marathon. And is happy about it. I probably looked like an irritable rhinoceros trotting along beside a happy gazelle. NOT FAIR.
Anyway, as we approached mile 16, Paul informed me that we would need to stop short about a quarter mile from the camera crew's checkpoint with the kids until we got the all-clear. I'd prearranged this with the crew: I knew that if the kids saw me first, they wouldn't be so happy to see their daddy arriving as they would be upset that their mama had just taken off. So John went ahead, and we hoped that they'd only have to shoot it once. For most of those second 8 miles, the thought of seeing and hugging and kissing my children helped me block out the pain. I couldn't wait to see my mom (sometimes when it hurts even 32-year-old mothers of two NEED THEIR MAMA).
Paul and I stopped to the side and waited for the call that it would be ok to approach. I decided to sit down for a few minutes and do one of the IT band stretches that had helped my leg so much at mile 8. We kept waiting and waiting for the call for the all-clear, and as it turned out they had to shoot the "scene" twice. It took between 15-20 minutes and it just felt like agony! I wanted to see my babies! I could feel my legs locking up and quitting on me, thinking that they'd just completed a 16-mile training run. I sat there too long. I should have jogged around on the grass just to the right of the road. I should have gone backwards and run up again ... anything to keep moving. But I was so tired. My knee hurt. I was hungry and I knew my MIL had two Snickers bars in her purse for me!
Finally the all-clear came. We started on down the road and OH MY STARS did my legs not want to move. It hurt A LOT. Lactic acid sets in fast! But ahead, to the left, I could see my family materializing. My heart leapt and I limped ahead. I wanted my hugs! My Snickers!




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