Thirteen weeks ago, I got a phone call from an old friend who said he was about to start training for a marathon in the fall. After we hung up, I thought, hey, I could do that! Walking, not running, and not a whole marathon, for certain. But I could walk a half marathon, if I worked at it. 13.1 miles.
I went online to find a training program. There are plenty. I’m sorry I can’t link to the exact one I decided on, but there are many readily available. The one I chose was a twelve-week program, but I went to Mexico for a week in the middle, so it turned out to be a thirteen week program for me.
I enlisted my great friend Susan Palmer to do it with me. She is younger, smaller, lighter, and fitter than I am, so I had to be sure that I followed the training program to the letter in order to keep up. Surprisingly, my husband joined in and he walked most of the training sessions with me. Her husband joined us on the occasional Sunday long walk as well. We made it a fun gabfest.
First thing: gear. I bought a pair of Hoka running shoes, on the recommendation of Kari Kilgore, a friend who recently started running, and in fact just completed running her first half marathon. I went to the running store and tried on a variety of Hoka shoes and settled on the Clifton model. Kari also suggested a pair of Hoka Recovery Slides to slip into after a walk. The recovery slides have a high arch and they stretched my feet just right after a walk. I wore them around for about ten minutes every day after taking off my Hokas, and my feet never hurt me at all.
The twelve-week training schedule was very specific. Long walks (3-10 miles) every Sunday. Mondays and Fridays off. Every other day: walking, anywhere from twenty minutes to an hour. I complained. It took a lot of time and I was looking forward to the marathon just so I could be done with it all.
My husband finally committed to actually walking the half marathon, so Friday I picked up our t-shirts and race bibs and we made a plan with Sue to get to the starting line.
So yesterday, Sue, Al, and I showed up, along with 9700 other people. The weather was perfect. About 60 degrees and misty. We were expecting to finish in a little over 4 hours, so they put us at the back of the pack, which was fine. We weren’t racing to win anything, we just wanted to finish. And finish we did. Sue ran the last hundred yards to the finish line, Al and I ran the last fifty yards. We clocked in at 3 hours, 57 minutes and 45 seconds.
They gave us medals, a water bottle, and a bag full of snacks. I needed to sit down, which I did, and after five minutes, I had scarfed down most of the snacks and was ready to go find Sue’s husband and the car. I didn’t hurt any place in particular, at least not badly, but I was very tired. Thirteen miles is a long slog. Doing anything nonstop for four hours is a long slog.
Went home, rustled up some lunch, took a hot bath and a nap, and was surprisingly ready for the rest of the day. This morning, I have a couple of sore muscles and Al has a blister on one toe, but overall, we feel good.
Here’s my takeaway: The Eugene Marathon is remarkably well organized. From registration (their website could use a little work), to picking up the bibs, to finding the starting point, it was all easy and well marked. I expected a 9700-person madhouse but it wasn’t that at all. At the starting gun, they blasted “Shout” from the loud speakers. This is almost the University of Oregon anthem, played during halftime at every sporting event, and the race got off to a dancing start. Volunteers were placed about every two miles along the way with tables of electrolytes and water and energy gel packs. Each station had a medical team, just in case. The police monitored the closed streets for safety, and Eugene residents were everywhere holding up signs of support, clanging their cowbells and yelling, “You got this!” at the runners/walkers. It was not only enchanting, it was empowering.
Best takeaway is that I discovered the joy of walking. We’ve been walking three miles roundtrip to coffee with friends most Sunday mornings, but now I see that many places I drive to can be easily walked instead. I have time to myself, to think, to plan, to muse, to create. This has also resulted in significant health improvements. Two years ago, my doctor said, “You’re 70. Time to start walking.”
She was right.
One Writer's World 