What Have I Done?

Crap.

Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap.



Crap.

Today I had what was no doubt the first of many freak-outs regarding this Dopey plan. I am still trying to figure out which training plan I'm going to use. In the plan I first decided to use, I don't need to start the official schedule until mid-September but the distance starts out pretty long. The 2nd plan I considered started a month ago but with my hip thing I wasn't able to start it then. The third plan I considered starts out with a long run of 13 miles on the first week. With all this confusion I decided to ask my physical therapist Josh, who is also a runner, what he thought would be smartest considering I was coming back from injury. In the course of our conversation, he said " You could use several 20 milers. You're basically training for an ultra."

Huh.

I'd never considered that. He's right, of course. And that caused some mild anxiety. And then on the drive back to my office, I had another thought. I'm doing this thing all alone. Well, I do know 1 other person doing it, but he'll be coming off a 100 mile run this fall, so I'm thinking he's out of my league. Yep - I'm alone in this. And that's when the freak out commenced.

So let's take stock of where I'm at right now.

1) I'm basically training for an ultra marathon.
2) I'm coming off an injury.
3) I'm already behind in my training due to said injury.
4) I'm doing this alone.
5) My hair is at that awkward stage where it's too long to leave down for a run but too short to pull back in a ponytail.

Ok - so that last one is not so catastrophic but the rest are kind of a big deal.

Crap. What have I done?

When I started this journey to the Dopey Challenge, I had a plan. A good plan, if I do say so myself. The plan was run a half marathon every couple of months to keep up a good mileage base and to have some options to submit for proof of time for corral placement. I signed up for the Flying Pig Half Marathon in Cincinnati. I knew a hilly course like that wouldn't likely allow me to PR but it was mainly for fun and I'd have at least a time. In order to hopefully get a faster time, I signed up for the flat Chicago Rock N Roll Half Marathon for July. And then I injured my hip and that effectively put an end to all those lovely plans.

So if I haven't been running or writing about running for the last 3 months, what having I been filling my days with? Being electrocuted and stabbed mostly. Since the doctors can think of nothing more to do than take x-rays (2 sets), MRIs (2 different ones) and bone scans, I've taken matters into my own hands and been going to physical therapy. And that physical therapy has included little things called dry needling and electrical stimulation. Let's break these fun activities down a little further.

Dry needling. Even the name sounds horrific. This is when my therapist takes his thumb and forefinger and poke around in the general area where it hurts. I'll react from time to time when his pressure hurts. When I really jump due to the pain, that's where he presses harder and then sticks hollow needles into the area. First you feel the initial prick. "That's not so bad," you think "This won't be too awful." Then  once you relax for a micro-second, there's the heat sensation and then the pain that can be so severe that it takes your breath away. That process gets repeated. And repeated. And repeated. Once, my therapist had to leave the curtained area to get something. While he was gone, I happened to lift my head up and look in the direction of my hip and saw that I still had 3 needles sticking out of butt cheek. I almost passed out.

Electrical stimulation usually follows the dry needling. This is exactly what it sounds like. My therapist puts some device on my glutes and sends an electrical current through it. This is where it gets weird. The electricity causes my muscles to move without me moving them. I can't control it and I feel the muscles twitching. Once, my therapist was doing his normal stimulation of the muscles in the gluteal area and the muscle twitching went all the way down to my ankle. I saw my therapists' head snap to the side like he was at tennis match to see my twitching all the way down my leg. "We must have found a good spot," he says. I can barely walk when I get off the table.

Sounds like fun, huh? Despite the pain, I do think these treatments have helped get me back in my running shoes so every PT appointment when my therapist asks if I'm up for the needling, I say "short term pain is worth it for long term gain" and let him commence with this torture methods.

In the last few weeks, I've been able to finish a back-to-back 5K and half marathon as well as my first training run in 3 months. I'm cautiously optimistic that I can start working back up to a regular training routine. Dopey is in 5 months and I have a lot of work to do. So bring on the needles.

One day, as my therapist was doing the dry needling, this sentence came out of his mouth: "I'll put one more [needle] in and then I'll shock you."

The things we do to be able to run.

A Very Good Day

It's good news!

My ortho appointment yesterday went very well. Better than I expected. I was resigned to the fact that I would not be running any time soon and that after that morning, I might not even be allowed to bike for the foreseeable future. I was nervous, scared and already trying to figure out how I'd deal with the worst case scenario.

That wait in the doctor's lobby seemed endless.

My friend Sherry generously offered to go with me to the appointment, an offer I gladly took her up on. I figured that it would be good to have someone keep me company and she might think to ask questions I didn't and remember stuff I wouldn't.

The doctor did a quick exam of my range of movement and asked me if various positions hurt and if the pain moved to any places. After hearing all my answers and asking me to pinpoint where I normally felt the pain, he gave me about the best news I'd ever heard. My malady was not serious and easily treatable.

This is how I felt when I heard that.

The diagnosis was bursitis around the trochanter (a fancy name for part of the hip bone).  It could be treated fairly quickly with some anti-inflammatories, stretches and some rest. I got an injection of an anti-inflammatory directly into my hip and would be getting a prescription for a special compounded topical ointment. After 1 or 2 sessions with my PT, and a few weeks, I should be able to try running again.

There are parameters to my recovery though: I am only supposed to run 1/3 of the mileage I normally would when I first start back. I need to reduce the intensity of my runs (if only he knew how non-intense they were already....) and I was not allowed to run back to back days for quite some time. But given all that, I was given the go-ahead to return to running when it felt comfortable.

It was at this time that I handed the doctor a list I had written down prior to my appointment. On it were all the races I was already signed up for, with their dates and distances. I leaned over him as he read it, pointed to the first race and said, "I've already accepted that I can't run this one. And possibly not the 2nd one either. The big priority is being OK for Dopey in January, but I'd love to be able to still run the Chicago Rock N Roll in July." He looked up from the list and said with a good deal of confidence that he thought I had very realistic goals.

I could have hugged him right then.

I was also comforted by the fact that he said I should feel better fairly soon and if I didn't to call him back and we'd try something else. He didn't expect surgery to even be a thought as the labral tear that showed up on my MRI was not the cause of my pain and was something we didn't even have to think about any time soon.

It's amazing how much better I feel already - only one day after the injection. But I must admit that though I feel mostly relief, a part of me is worried that the doctor is wrong and I'm still going to be in pain. Much experience has taught me that it's never easy to diagnose anything with me, and it's even harder to find an effective treatment. So for the last day and a half, I've been walking around trying to concentrate on how my hip feels. Did stepping up onto that curb cause a twinge? Did I feel a little something when I walked down the hall? Is that soreness the expected result of the shot or is it something else? I find myself constantly taking inventory of everything that I feel coming from that part of my body.

That being said, I should be enjoying this time. Basking in the delight of not needing surgery. Returning to the excitement of planning for my upcoming races.

Yesterday was a good day. A very good day indeed.

Longest. Week. Ever.

It's been a week since I picked up the MRI report from the imaging center. The report that had the one ominous line that I could read amid the medical jargon. The one that read: "Suspected superior labral tear." The line that suddenly caused the year ahead of me to fade from what I had planned and prepared into one that looked empty.

The report didn't say for sure that it was definitely a tear. It didn't say how severe the suspected tear appeared to be. It didn't indicate whether a surgery would be in my future in place of the many races I had already registered for. It didn't say anything but one line that my active imagination took to a place where the worst case scenario played out in my mind all hours of the day and night.

No call came from my doctor's office to interpret the results. Not on Tuesday, the day I picked up the report myself from the imaging center. Not on Wednesday when I'd had a full day to go through a range of emotions from sad, to angry, to determined, to sad again to numb. Not on Thursday when I resorted to a pedicure and retail therapy to make me feel better and not on Friday when I finally called my doctor, learned my MRI results had been lost and I took out my frustration on the hills under the two wheels of my bike.

But none of that matters now. In less than 12 hours, I will be face to face with an orthopedic surgeon who will be able to read the report, and the scans I've been carrying around on CD for the last week. He will likely tell me how good or bad the news is and what my treatment and recovery timeline looks like. He will either assure me that I still have hope to achieve the goals I set for myself in the next months or will be the unfortunate soul that has to tell me those dreams will likely be shattered.

So now I am one sleep away from getting this news. And though I spent the last week waiting impatiently for this day to finally get here, now part of me would like a little more time. Now I simultaneously want the time to be here and want to have that week back because I'm not sure I'm ready to know any answers. And while it seems like a dramatic reaction to something that is not life-threatening, not dangerous and not even that big of a deal to so many people, it is a big deal to me right now.

There are things I've been considering doing for several years and finally I felt like I was capable to doing them so I decided to do it. When I say I'm going to do something, you better bet I will....no matter how hard, because I committed to it. But I didn't plan for that option to be taken from me, and no matter if it's out of my control or not, if I don't accomplish those things, a big part of me will feel like a failure. And that's one thing I can't stand.

In the morning, I will hop on my bike for a quick ride and then I will come home, shower and get ready for my appointment. I will have a friend with me both for moral support and to ask the questions I will probably forget to ask. I will try to deal with the results if they are bad and be thankful if they are good.

But no matter what I learn tomorrow, the longest week ever will finally be over.

A Dopey Idea

I’ve done something ridiculous. That in itself is nothing new. But this time the level of ridiculousness is rather impressive. A few weeks ago I registered for the Dopey Challenge.

For the uninitiated, the Dopey Challenge is a series of races that takes place at Walt Disney World in January. It consists of: a 5K (3.1 miles) on Thursday, a 10K (6.2 miles) on Friday, a half marathon (13.1 miles) on Saturday, and a full marathon (26.2 miles) on Sunday. That’s 48.6 miles in 4 days. I signed up to do this…on purpose. And I paid an exorbitant amount of money to do it.

Oh – and did I mention what time these races start? We toe off the line at 5:50 am. Eastern time. They require us to be in our starting corrals by 5:00. Since many of the streets in the area are closed, the shuttle buses are the best way to get to the starting line and you have to be on the bus by 4:00. Four days in a row. So in addition to putting in the miles, you’ll be doing them in a sleep deprived state.  Does this sound like fun yet?

Why exactly did I do this? I guess the easiest answer is the cliché “because it’s there.” Maybe it’s because I needed a new challenge. I’m a goal-setter and when a goal-setter doesn’t have a goal to work for, they tend to get restless. I’ve tackled half marathons, full marathons, triathlons and even a 100 mile bike ride. I guess next it was either this or an Ironman and I’m pretty sure my mom would kill me if did that. So now it’s the Dopey Challenge. And yes, I know how appropriately it is named. 

Now I am signed up for Dopey, I can’t help but think about what the next eight months of my life will be like. I imagine it will include the following:

I will want to eat all the food. When you’re doing the kind of training required for something like this, it’s not unusual to burn 2000 calories before noon. But don’t get too excited. It’s rare that you lose much weight training for a marathon because you’re hungry. All. The. Time. While I was training for my last marathon, I got in the habit of eating 2 glazed doughnuts after every run that was 8 miles or longer. So friends, stock your fridges ‘cause I’m gonna need to eat.

I will wonder why I thought this was a good idea. I’m sure more than once I will question my sanity for deciding to take on this challenge. Pre-dawn wake-up calls, arranging my weekends around my long runs, and being tired all the time will take its toll. I will dream about sleeping while I’m sleeping. I will fantasize about free time. I will have a hard time remembering what it feels like to not be sore.

I will be doing laundry like it’s my job. When you’re running as often as I’ll need to for this challenge, you’re going to go through a lot of laundry. As I was in the final stages of training for my most recent half marathon, I had two loads of clean laundry sitting waiting to be folded and put away and another load ready to go in. And this is just for me. I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t consider just buying new clothes to put off doing another load of laundry. That method worked in college.

It’s very possible I will lose body parts. Well, not the important ones. I have been known to lose a toenail or two during marathon training. It’s not a big deal, but I have grown attached to them. Literally.

People will call me crazy. Not that this doesn’t already happen on a semi-regular basis already, but I imagine the frequency and passionate delivery of such statements will increase. I don’t mind though. At this point, I kind of think of it as a compliment.

Given all the above information, though, I think it’s safe to label me as crazy. Hopefully after January 10, I’ll be Dopey too. Wish me luck!

Conquering the Pig

I have dubbed this year "The Year of the Run." Last year as I was training for my first century ride, I dubbed it "The Year of the Bike." See how clever and creative I am? In any event, this year of the run started off by trying to get back into shape after a surgery last fall that put me out of commission for a while. It's been a long road back, starting at run-walks and 13+ minute miles and slowly...oh so slowly...getting back almost where I used to be.

But anyway....back to the year of the run. This is the year of the run because of a certain set of races that take place in January. Some time ago, I decided that the best way to celebrate next year's 'significant' birthday was to attempt to complete the Dopey Challenge at Disney World, which consists of a 5K on Thursday, 10K on Friday, half marathon on Saturday and full marathon on Sunday. That's a lot of running. So in order to prepare for that, I figured I've have to put in a lot of miles and start early. Such was the situation when I decided to sign up for the Flying Pig Half Marathon in Cincinnati, a crazy hilly race that my friend Jody and her friends had decided to do.

Flying Pig is the first weekend in May, a lovely time to spend running around southwestern Ohio and northern Kentucky. Yup, that's right - one race, two states. I ran so far that I ran out of one state, into another and back again. I was so looking forward to the race weekend girls' trip and I was just about ready. My runs were going well and my times were coming down. Then a week before the race, my hip suddenly started to hurt and hurt so bad that I had to cut a run short - something I NEVER do. Panic set in and I made 2 emergency trips to the physical therapist to try to be able to complete my race. One of my treatments left my hip bruised and battered but if I got me through 13 hilly miles 48 hours later, it would be well worth it.

Race weekend came and I was not at all sure I'd be able to run all those miles. 13 miles on my bruised hip was going to be hard enough. But 13 hilly miles was another thing altogether. I decided to give it a try. Taking to heart my friends' warnings to listen to my body and be cautious about how much I pushed it, I met up with a group of awesome runners and we headed out. We headed to packet pickup as soon as we got to town and I could tell an hour or so in that my hip was not holding up well. I tried not to let that stop me from having fun so we explored the expo before heading to a carb-loading feast.

After dinner we headed back to hotel for an early evening in preparation for a 5:30 wake up call. Thankfully, my friend Jody is a wonderful licensed massage therapist and generously offered to work on my hip. Unfortunately, she found knots not only in my hip and glutes but also all the way down my IT band. She did what she could and I managed not to scream too much.

Race morning came and I used the foam roller to loosen up my hip and leg as much as possible. Satisfied I was as ready as I was going to be, we headed out the door to meet the other ladies in our entourage. I felt pretty good walking the half mile or so to the starting line. I lined up in corral E with Jody and Sandy and did some dynamic stretching while we waited to start. 

The race starts and I take off with Jody and Sandy. I felt my hip twinge from the first step but it wasn't too bad. Yet. We hit mile 1 in just under 11:00 and I was pretty comfortable with the conservative pace. 

We hit mile 2 at about the same pace but I started to feel a little more soreness. As we got close to mile 3 Jody asked me if I thought I could handle it for another 10 miles and I told her I thought I could. I let them go on faster and I tried to keep my own pace but soon I resigned myself to the fact that I was not going to be able to run this whole race. I was disappointed and frustrated. But shortly after I started my first walk break as I crossed back into Ohio, I noticed how beautiful the sunrise was over the river. I stopped, pulled out my phone and took a picture.

And that's when I got an idea. Since my race was pretty much over at this point, I might as well have a little fun. I decided to document the race with pictures and commentary. My purpose was two-fold: to have a little fun and to assure my family and friends that I was ok and making smart decisions. As it turns out, I can be a little stubborn and people who love me were concerned I'd push on at an unhealthy level and hurt myself even more.

Shortly after we crossed the bridge, I noticed the beginning of the 4-mile climb that I knew was going to be rough even on a good day. Today was not a good day. So....let the fun begin. Below is the commentary I posted on Facebook during the race, as well as some of the thoughts I had that I didn't stop to post.

See that mountain up ahead? Yep...I get to spend the next 4 miles running up it.

Geez, I'm really glad I'm not running a full marathon today. Thank goodness for small favors.

Ok. This is getting steep now. 

Hee hee. They are holding up Super Mario Brothers power boost sticks. That's funny. Points to them for sign creativity. Hey I could use a power boost right about now.This hill is killin' me.

Woot! Woot! Power boost selfie! Waiting for my power boost to kick in.

This power boost is not working. Crap.

Seriously with this hill? Is. It. Ever. Going. To. End?

Are my ears starting to pop?

I think I'm starting to get altitude sickness.

I kinda have to go to the bathroom. My time is already shot. Might as well add a few more minutes and take porta potty break.

Yup. Still in line.

Ok. I feel better now. What the? There was an actual honest-to-goodness park bathroom across the street? With flushing toilets and sinks with water? How did I not see that? Son of a....

Oh hey - I was down there a few miles ago!

Yep - that was a long way up. How do some people run that whole thing even with 2 good hips?

Oh good - we get to go downhill now.

Ow! Going downhill hurts more than going uphill!

Ok. Good. That's over.

Hey - even they call it a mountain!

Run again now. Ok -go. Nope, that's not happening. 

Now my "good hip" hurts too. For the love of all that's holy, when is this thing going to be over?

Big pig says 1 mile to go.

I've never walked in the last mile of a half marathon. Let's run again. Ok - those 20 feet really hurt. Back to walking.

Less than a half mile. I WILL run to the end now.

Where the hell is the finish line?

Yay! There it is. Hey - who are they? Oh yeah, the first marathoners are finishing now. Not doing a lot for my self confidence. At least it's just the men. Oh wait - nope. There are the first women. Sigh...

Finished!

Now to the first aid tent. Must. Get. Ice.

That feels better and worse all at the same time.

Celebratory finish pic.

Ok. Now all I have to do is walk the half mile back to my hotel.

#$^*&@!!

"I'm going to Disney World!" part 2

My cell phone alarm was going off signaling that it was 2:45 am (1:45 my time). I bolted up and jumped out of bed in the middle-of-night darkness usually reserved for overnight bathroom trips. Trying to be considerate to my hotel roommates and Team Raegan members Jennie and Bridget, I crept into the bathroom and put on a pair of capri tights, a pair of long tights, a pair of sweatpants, a long-sleeved shirt, my Raegan race shirt, a long-sleeved "throwaway" shirt, a pair of gloves, a headband that I skillfully arranged over my ears, a pair of gloves and a tastefully-fashionable garbage bag. I grabbed my breakfast bar and a some Powerade and headed out to meet Runner Wendy and Dan to make our 3:45 bus to the start line of the marathon. Temperature: 20ish degrees. The "good" news was that it was expected to rise to 27 degrees by race time.
We had to be at the corral area 2 hours before race time - I'm still not sure why. The frigid temperatures, combined with the Florida humidity, made for the coldest 20 degree morning I've ever experienced. All around the corral area, runners were congregating in groups in front of tents in an effort to block the wind. No one was paying any attention to the poor DJ who was trying to pump us up for the race. That morning was the first, and likely last, time I ever looked forward to using the porta-potty because it was marginally warmer in there. Side note: have you ever tried using a porta-potty while you were wearing 4 layers of clothing? It ain't easy.

Finally, it was time to make our way to the actual starting line. Little did we know that it was a 32-mile walk from the corral area to the start line. Well, it was actually more like a half-mile, but I still think it should have counted towards our 26.2 miles. The good thing about the trek was that we were finally moving and getting marginally warmer. By the time we got to our assigned area of the start line, I felt like I could ditch my "throwaway" outer layer (and the garbage bag, as attractive as it was). I had slipped 2 activated handwarmer packets into my gloves and they now rested in my palms. They stayed there for 19 miles. (Thanks Colleen!!)

Runner Wendy, Dan and I found a spot to stand for the final minutes and took some pictures. We were starting to feel the excitement. This was Dan's first marathon and Runner Wendy and I had dreamed about running the Disney Marathon for years. Soon we witnessed the fireworks that signaled the start of the race for the first wave of runners. The marathon was underway!! I forgot about my nagging cough and how cold it was and enjoyed the magical moment. Nobody does magic like Disney. Another round of fireworks for our wave and now we were off!

It was still dark, and would be for the first several miles, but we could make out people along road cheering us on. It was very cool. Really cool - after all it was only 27 degrees. We entered Epcot around mile 3, and just before we entered I heard my parents. I spotted them all bundled up waving and yelling for us. That gave me a little burst of energy as we entered the park. We were soon rewarded with the sight of the dark and nearly empty Epcot. How cool! As we ran through the World Showcase, runners around me starting saying hello and goodbye in the language of whichever "country" we were in at the time.

After leaving Epcot, Runner Wendy and I settled into our race pace. We had told Dan to go ahead with his pace a couple miles earlier. The miles between parks were fairly boring. There were bands, cheerleaders and other types of entertainment during these stretches but they couldn't compare with the coolness factor of the miles run in the parks. When we got to our first water stop, Runner Wendy and I both grabbed cups and were surprised to find that what was in the cups was more of a slush than liquid. It had frozen since the time it was poured! As water stops went by, the other danger forming was that the spilled cups of water and Powerade were leaving a coating of ice on the ground surrounding the stops. The heroic race volunteers were busy spreading whatever sand they could find to give us some traction.

Mile 10 1/2 had to be one of my favorite parts of the entire race. At this point, we found ourselves running into the Magic Kingdom. As we were running down Mainstreet, USA, Cinderella's Castle magically rose up in front of us and Disney Cast Members lined the course cheering and clapping for us. Our smiles were huge. We decided we had to pull off to the side and take some pictures.The miles between 11, when we left Magic Kingdom, and 16, when we entered Animal Kingdom, seemed really long. At this point my back started aching. My guess is that the 2 pre-dawn hours standing in a frigid parking lot before the race was now starting to effect my often-fragile back. At the next water stop, I took an additional 2 ibuprofen to add to ones I took before the race. We saw my parents again at mile 12.5 and I really needed the boost they gave me.

Soon after, Runner Wendy and I spotted Mickey Mouse on a golf course so we stopped and got in line to get a picture. We had both said that even if we got no other picture than that of us with Mickey, we'd be happy. We got within about 5 people of the front of the line when we saw Minnie and Goofy coming from over the hill. They were replacing Mickey! Sadly, we didn't make the cut. Sad, discouraged me still nursing a sore back, we trudged on through miles 13, 14 (at which point we needed to do a porta-potty stop - arrgh!) and 15 before we finally arrived at Animal Kingdom.

Entering another park perked us up as we were greeted with more Disney Cast Members and some fun park-themed music. We stopped for picture in front of "Everest" during our trek through the park and I started to feel a little boost of enthusiasm. Even more so when I spotted a medical tent and slathered some Biofreeze on my back. But the best news were yet to come. After we exited the park around mile 18, we spotted Mickey again! We quickly got in line again. We had one person left in front of us when Mickey's handler said they were cutting off the line there because Mickey needed a break. Runner Wendy and I about collapsed right there. We begged the handler not to do this to us again. We must have sounded really pathetic because he looked at us and said, "See that trailer right there? He's just going in for about 60 seconds to get a drink. He'll be back." Relieved and a little embarrassed, Runner Wendy and I sheepishly waited for our turn with the Mouse. Getting that picture fueled our run for another couple miles.
We were well over half done now and we had our photo with Mickey. The next park was we- didn't-know-how-many-miles away. I wasn't sure how Runner Wendy was faring, but the next couple of miles were probably the most boring of all for me. I suspected she wasn't feeling too great because she was suggesting a walk break a bit more frequently than she had earlier in the race. Not that I didn't take her up on the suggestions. At mile 20 I said to Runner Wendy, "We've only 6 miles to go. You'd think we'd need to enter another park soon." The next park was only about 2 miles away but it felt like about 50. Shortly before we hit the next park, Runner Wendy needed another porta-potty stop. Since I was stopping with her, I got in line too and for the 3rd time that morning, peeled away 3 layers of clothing in a smelly box and peed into a hole in the ground.

We entered Disney's Hollywood Studios around mile 22 and it was a welcome sight! By now the parks were open so we were greeted with guests along both sides of the marathon route. They were clapping, cheering, waving hand-made signs and telling us we "could do it." My absolute favorite spectator sign that we spotted that morning said, "If it was easy, we'd be running too." At mile 23, Runner Wendy and I stopped to get a picture with Mike Wysowski from Monsters, Inc. It was a welcome, albeit brief, stop. Soon after Wendy told me to go on without her. Not wanting to leave her, I stuck back a while longer before she told me that I needed to leave her to run my own race at that point.

Running through the remainder of Hollywood Studios, I tried to take in all the atmosphere: the Sorcerer Mickey hat, the "New York" skyline and the growing crowd of people. From there, we went straight to the Boardwalk area. Running around the man-made lake and through the Atlantic City replica was a beautiful and welcome distraction to the growing discomfort in my lower back that had began to creep back into my consciousness. People on both sides of the course saw that I was beginning to struggle and cheered for me by name as they read my shirt.

Luckily we ran straight from the Boardwalk back into Epcot. The boring "between parks" miles were behind us now. As I entered Epcot, I knew I was almost done. Soon, I heard excited voices yelling my name and realized they were coming from Team Raegan members Bridget and Jennie. They had both been sick and I thought they would sleep through the entire race and I couldn't blame them. But they were there! Seeing them gave me the burst of energy I needed to make it through the last mile. As I was finishing mile 26 and in the final stretch, I turned the corner and was greeted by an awesome gospel choir, outfitted in flowing white robes. There was a brief consideration that the frigid race had killed me and I had actually died and gone to heaven. But I came back to reality in time to see the finish line and Mickey waiting for me there.

I managed to find the energy to raise my arms in victory as I crossed the finish line (A picture of which I can purchase for $16.95). We were herded through the finish line area where I received my coveted Mickey Medal. We were then ushered through the photo area where you were photographed with your newly-earned hardware, then through the food tent where I grabbed some fruit and drinks in an attempt replenish some of the 3,895 calories I burned during the race.

My parents greeted me right after exiting the food tent and we proceeded to the family reunion area to wait for Wendy and meet up with Dan, Bridget and Jennie. Everyone found us easily and we chatted in the same cold parking lot where I'd started my day. Before grabbing a bus back to the hotel, we took some photos.
I'd been dreaming of running the Disney Marathon for 8 years and planning for it for almost a year. For 4 months, training for the Disney Marathon had been my life. In that time, I'd lost a lot of sleep, a little weight and a toenail, but I gained one of the best experiences of my life. A lot of times I complained about the early mornings, the long runs and the cold weather but it was all worth it. I learned that I could accomplish my goals, no matter how crazy people tell me they are.

I could not have done this alone. Thanks to my family for their support and encouragement and following me down to Florida in record-breaking cold weather. Thanks to Wendy for joining me on the this adventure (Dan too!). Thanks to Bridget and Jennie for being part of Traveling Team Raegan and providing that needed burst of energy to get me through the last mile and also for helping me celebrate Mickey-style afterward at Disney World. Thanks to Janet and Pam for letting us come in to the office later on some mornings in order to get a 10-mile run in before work. Thanks to Anjanel for designing kick-ass t-shirts that lots of folks in Florida commented on. Thanks to all Team Raegan members for letting me run to your house, for offering me drinks along the way, or for just offering me encouragement when I had so far to go. This would not have been nearly as much fun without you.

And now because we didn't think to do this at the finish line, here's something I just have to add.
Announcer-type Team Raegan person: "Raegan, you've just run a marathon. What are you going to do now?"
Me: "I'm going to Disney World!"

And after eating a piece of tye-dye cheesecake back at the hotel, that's just what I did.