The thing about a Marathon is...

...that the first guy to run one died as he finished. What I really want to know is, who in the world was the first person to say "hey. that killed him. I think I'll give that a try."

I woke up sick today, more than likely a product of the heat exhaustion and overall torture of my body Saturday.
I spent the day on my couch and had a lot of time to think about how I actually felt during the marathon, and I've also had a lot of time to read blogs of people who also ran the marathon Saturday.
There seemed to be a consensus among bloggers and other people I've talked to about the race and it is this:
Somewhere around mile 18 life got really tough.

And that, without question, was the case for me.
Up until that point I felt awesome. I even remember thinking:
"I don't know what everyone is talking about. This is embarrassingly low-key."

This is a laughable thought when compared to what I was thinking around mile 23, which was:
"I will give birth to 1,000 children while simultaneously ripping my fingernails out with those floss needles they give you when you get braces so you can floss between the wires before I run another mile of this awful race."

You may think that last statement was a little graphic when in reality it is the severely edited version from what I was really thinking.
Pain. A lot. of. pain.

I spent mile 18 and 19 yelling at myself, in my head, to keep going. This had a limited affect because it had gotten so hot that even my mental arguments had become delirious, which is why it was a miracle when I ran past my friend Cheryl Yip who just so happened to also be running the marathon.
For the next 7 miles I got yelled at in her little Singaporean voice (because she's from Singapore so she speaks Singaporie, a language offered at select high schools in central California where there is a large concentration of Singapites) which was exponentially more encouraging considering the fact that the voice in my own head had drifted more to the "quit now and go buy a Dr. Pepper" side of things.

I (literally) ran into quite a few people I knew throughout the course of the race, which was kind of weird. I'd like to think that seeing people on the course of a marathon is pretty similar to what it would be like to be in Hades' big river of dead souls that always freaked (freaks?) me out when I watched (watch?) Hercules.
You're all just floating along the same downward spiral and you can chat and make jokes and compare Ipods or whatever but when it really comes down to it, you're all just on a direct route to hell.

Okay, okay, so I'm making this sound terrible. The unfair thing about marathons is that the worst part is at the end.
In reality, I could go on forever about how inspiring it was to stand on the starting line with 7,500 other people who have been training for months for that very moment. Or how beautiful it was to see the sun rise over the red mountains I love so much. Or how much I appreciate the volunteers who handed out gatorade, water, and oranges and who icy-hotted my legs at every single aid station the second half of the race.

And the finish line. I am NOT a crier, but I did come awfully close. If it hadn't have been for the thousands of strangers standing there watching I probably would have lost it right there.
What an emotionally transcendent experience to push your body to the ultimate limits like that.
Approaching that finish line, I turned to Cheryl and said,
"Cheryl............we ran a marathon."
And we high-fived as we crossed.
Because nothing says "I've been to hell and back" quite like slapping palms with a Singapite.
You're the best Cheryl. :) Thanks for getting me through it.

Katie

26.2 miles later...

Done.

And goodness gracious was it difficult.

I don't mean to make such a big deal out of this. I know lots of people run marathons and even if you haven't its easy to imagine how hard they would be. That's what you'd think right?

But you're wrong. Whatever you're imagining, its 1,000 times harder. Especially when you run your last seven miles in 96 degree weather.

Here's a quick recap and a few pictures. There are more and better pictures to come later. My dad got some good ones, as did Erin I think.

So going to bed last night at 8 was a bust. I ended up laying in bed until around 10:30, then just getting up and watching about 40 minutes of a movie to try and get tired. The reason I hit the sack so early was so we could make it to the 4 a.m. early bird bus where they give out prizes for people willing to take the earlier shuttles.

If there is one thing you should know about me it's that a lifelong dream of mine is to win a free ipod. I mean...everyone wins free ipods. Every time I even bring up this ambition of mine someone says "oh, I won my Ipod at blahblahblah" which is nothing but infuriating for us non-ipod winners. Last year I even went as far as to set up a separate e-mail account just for entering sweepstakes and entered four online ipod drawings a day for about two weeks before I forgot about it because Lost started back up again.

So, as luck would have it, the main giveaways they were doing on the early-bird bus was for...ipods! We got up. We got to the buses on time. We were feeling good. And then, I looked down...and realized I had forgotten my race number. And I had no cell phone. And no gas in my car. Or a wallet. Of course.

I ended up borrowing someone's cell phone and calling my mom like a whiney little girl. I also had to wait around for her to bring it meaning I missed the early bird bus and the prize of my dreams. The best part was the first thing she said when I called and told her my predicament:

"Goshdangit Rachel...you are always doing stuff like this!"

"uh mom...this is Katie."

She then sighed the sigh of a mother who has not ONE completely ridiculous and irresponsible daughter, but TWO. Sorry mom. Life is hard.

I want to save the details of the race for when I have some better pictures. Also I have been slowly dying on my couch all day and will probably drop dead if I try and think any harder about writing anything. Just know that I finished. And it was really hard. And I didn't win a free Ipod.

Foiled again by my own absurdity.

On the bright side, the experience was beautiful.

In its own I-wish-I-were-dead kind of way.

I am a marathon finisher.

Katie

What an experience to run with 7,500 motivated and committed people.

The best part.

Earliest I've gone to bed since...ever.

In almost exactly 11 hours from now I will be starting my first marathon.

Today consisted of sleeping in, quick mile and a half run, lunch with my long lost Erin, a tour of the marathon expo, driving the course (for mental preparation of course), family pictures, a large and delicious pasta dinner, and an 8:00 bedtime (meaning right now!).

Who knows if I will be able to sleep with all the nerves and excitement???

Scary thought: I have two blisters on my heel that should have been healed by now but aren't.

Exciting thought: It's almost over!

Boy oh boy.

It's gonna be crazy.

Wish me luck!

I knew I should have started being nicer. I'm really gonna need to good karma tomorrow.

Katie

BREAKING NEWS

I have reached a record high of 21 pending friend requests.

Do I accept? Do I ignore?

I don't know you!

I know you but I don't want you on my news feed!

I can't ignore you because I don't want to hurt your feelings!

I can't accept you because I can't remember how we both know 38 mutual people!

So I just let them sit.

Hoping they will work themselves out.

Fight amongst yourselves my 21 potential friends. I will only accept the last 5 standing.

If only...

Katie

Two life updates for you:

1. I got my oil changed all by myself for the first time ever today. I think I was mostly nervous because I hate appearing girly in any way and not knowing how to navigate myself through a simple oil change definitely made me feel like a wussy little girl. The guys at Jiffy Lube were fantastically patient with me. They talked me through everything, didn't try and sell me too much weird extra stuff, and even washed my windows/vacuumed my car as an extra! The best part was when I was leaving and Steve followed me out to open the door of the building AND my car door for me. Thanks Steve! And Jiffy Lube!

2. I went to the career fair today. What the?? Career Fairs are for seniors who are fully prepared to take the next step in their life and take on the responsibility of a full-time job. At least I got the "senior" part down. As for the rest of it...

The good news is I chose a super illogical major. If you're one of those people who has a real plan for your life and expect to go places and make lots of money you've probably never heard of it. It's called "English" and if you tell someone that is your major this is exactly how the conversation will go:

Boy: "So Katie, what's your major?"

Me: "English!"

Boy: "Oh...so...what are you going to do with that? Like...teach?"

Me: "Nope."

Boy: "Oh...(this dumb girl doesn't realize that is the only career option she has) well..." (turns to hair-parted RM next to me who is simultaneously planning out his nightly homework schedule and asking an Elementary Ed. major out)..."What's your major Rob?"

Rob: "Pre-med (not an actual major but I want you to know I'm going to med school)"

Boy: "Oh no way, me too!" ('Lets-compare-test-scores-conversation' ensues)

Any guesses as to the only booth that actually had something to offer an English major like myself?

Yep. TEACH for America.

There's no getting out of it. I'm going to end up a teacher whether I want to or not.

So I have an interview with Teach for America in the morning.

Anyone know anything about it?

Seeing as how its my only shot, I could really use some advice.

Muchas gracias.

Katie

This post is long, but you can do it.

My favorite part of Saturdays when I was a little kid was mid-afternoon when my mom would come in and make us take a break from our game of HiHo! Cherry-o (we weren't allowed to have Giga Pets or Tamagotchi's, therefore forced to cope with non-digital board games) so we could tell her what treat we wanted from Lin's Market Place where we did all of our grocery shopping. (To this day I still call all grocery bags "Lin's bags.")

From this I learned the irrefutable idea that there are certain foods in life that are in all ways unattainable unless purchased by your mother for you on special occasions.

Martinelli's was one of these treats.

We waited allll year long for that sweet one week time period in late December when we got to share a bottle of sparkling cider between the six of us, once on Christmas Eve and once on New Years Eve, drinking from little white teacups my brothers should be embarrassed about in retrospect. We lived for those toasts and that sweet liquid that tasted exactly like apple juice, except magic apple juice with fizz and happiness and rainbows and butterflies and a dash of chemical X.

It wasn't until my sophomore year of college (yes, college) when I had to stay and work over Christmas break (curse you Brick Oven Restaurant) and spend New Year's in Provo by myself, that I had a major coming-of-age experience. I was wandering through Smith's, alone on December 31st, wallowing in their terrible playlist that includes playing "Glory of Love" every third song (curse you Peter Cetera), when the thought occured to me: "I bet other stores besides Lin's Market Place carry Martinelli's Apple Cider." My first reaction was to find a mom, ANY mom, who could verify this statement for me and, if so, purchase me a bottle. But it was then that I realized, "I bet I could...buy...a bottle...myself."
You know that line in the song Amazing Grace that your grandma always gets super emotional on and it goes "was blind, but now I see"?

Yeah. Totally. I get it.

This was a whole new world for me. I bought, not one, but three bottles of Martinelli's and drank nearly two of them by myself that night during my lonely extended-version LOTR marathon I had with myself (who needs a new years kiss when you have 12 hours of Aragorn?) The next day I started thinking about other things I never realized I could purchase on my own: chocolate milk, white bread, those little bottles of lemon juice shaped like a REAL lemon. The possibilites were endless. These were products that, in my own mind, had always been labeled "mom only" and I suddenly felt like I had won the big-kid lottery.

Now, in the words of the immortal Bill Cosby..."I told you that story to tell you this one."

Because yesterday I discovered yet another of these forbidden foods.

Baked beans. Pork and Beans. Whatever you would like to call them, I am obsessed with them, and I don't remember ever eating them oustide of an actual picnic or barbecue. But there I was yesterday, walking down the Latin Foods aisle and at the very end, I saw them.

Ironically, the giant can I purchased bore a striking resemblance to the giant can I have in my pantry back home that reads "First Place" on the front.

This can was my winnings from the 5th grade pork-and-bean-eating contest in which I ate 1,114 more beans than any other 5th grader and got to take home the grand prize of this giant container full of even more pork and even more beans.

It's too bad I didn't know back then what I know now, which is that I could have just gone and purchased that exact same can of Pork and Beans for $1.47 at my local grocery story and avoided the whole issue of being called "beanie" by every boy in my fifth grade class for the whole month of November. Live and learn I guess.

All I know is I get to eat Pork and Beans for lunch all week.

Purchased without my mother.

Growing up is the best.

Katie

PHOENIX.

I saw the band Phoenix play last night in Salt Lake City with my friend Andrew.

Not only did we get a late start out of Provo (caused by him having an evening class, but mostly caused by me needed to finish the season premier of "Bones,") but there was also a HUGE crash on I-15 and then parking was rather difficult once we got to the venue, so we ended up missing the first 3 or 4 songs of Phoenix and the opening band (Neon Indian) entirely.


This really wasn't as terrible as we imagined because we still got to enjoy some fantastic tunes and didn't have to deal with the whole "I love this but I'm so sick of standing" dilemma. We were there the perfect amount of time to just get a good dose of an excellent band who played one of the most fantastic encore's.

And they are French. Hot.

We topped the night off at my favorite restaurant "Denny's."

You think I'm kidding but I'm not.

I love Denny's.

This might be based on nostalgia more than on the quality of the food but I did have some rather tasty Biscuits and Gravy and a Quesadilla that Andrew so kindly pointed out I could have made at home for a much cheaper price.

Jokes on you Andrew,

I ran out of Tortillas on Wednesday.

Katie