Corey Long is a graduate of Dixie Heights High School and the University of Louisville, and, not incidentally, my daughter. On Saturday, she completed the Derby Marathon in her new hometown — her first marathon ever. More than 18,000 people signed up for the marathon and half-marathon. Corey trained hard for the race, and her time was an incredible three hours and 41 minutes. Because few of us will have the experience of running a marathon, I asked her to write about her experience. Here it is, in her own words.
When I started my running journey in 2010, my main goal was to stay healthy and find an outlet to manage the stress of college; no way was I planning to be a long-distance runner. Slowly but surely, though, I signed up for races across the state, and I even ran a half-marathon. Then I ran another, and another, and another, and over the next few years, I became hooked.
I knew a marathon would one day be in the cards. I made my first attempt last spring, but an injury knocked me out of training a month before the race. It was hard to get over, but it pushed me to train smarter for my next effort. To help me do so, I joined the Fleet Feet running group in Louisville last fall. With its encouragement, I became stronger and faster than I ever thought possible.
In January, I started marathon training, not only knowing I could complete the distance, but secretly hoping to qualify for the elusive Boston Marathon; for my age, 24, that meant running the 26.2 miles in less than three hours and 35 minutes.
Spoiler: I didn’t make that goal. But I did better than I could have realistically expected, and had an amazing time doing so. Here’s how the race went down:
Pre-race: I woke up around 5:30 a.m., full of energy and excitement after sleeping well the whole previous week. The first thing I did was check the weather because of threats of thunderstorms. Thankfully, the new forecast called only for rain, scheduled to be heaviest around the halfway point.
I ate my breakfast (a homemade granola bar), pinned on my bib, chatted with my dad (who was running the half), and got ready to go. Once downtown, we met up with my Fleet Feet training group for a picture and words of encouragement. We wished each other luck, and headed to our respective starting positions.
Miles 1-7: I felt great at the start. I was hitting mile paces of between 8:05 and 8:10 minutes, which was my goal pace. The crowd support was great, and the rain was holding off. I ran down familiar streets, thinking about how great it was that I was finally running a marathon.
Miles 7-10: The whole race changed. I was still holding my pace, but it was harder. Mentally and physically, I knew I couldn’t keep it up. If I wanted to finish, I would need to slow down. It didn’t help that the marathoners split off from the half-marathoners at this point, and the course suddenly got very quiet. (Most of the runners signed up for the half-marathon.) I went back and forth about the decision for about a mile, but ultimately decided to give up my Boston goal and focus on running a smart, strong race.
Miles 10-18: Once I slowed down, the race became more enjoyable. For some of those miles, we ran through Iroquois Park, known around the city for its tough hills. I started taking 10- to 20-second walking breaks to catch my breath and rest my legs and keep them strong for the rest of the race. My too fast start really hurt me here, making those breaks necessary. It started to pour around Mile 13, and honestly, I loved it. I mean, how often do we adults get to run around outside in the pouring rain? It provided a fun distraction, and I didn’t mind it at all.
Miles 18-24: This is where the run got real. I never hit the wall, but I definitely struggled the most during these miles. Physically, my legs were shot from my fast starting pace, and mentally, the task I was undertaking finally hit me. I made deals with myself to only walk once per mile, only for a few seconds at a time, and not for long enough that it would put my pace above a 9-minute mile. I was ready to be done.
Miles 24-26.2: With less than two miles to go, I knew I was going to do it. I picked up the pace, and gave it all I had to finish. I crossed the line at 3:41:40 with the biggest smile on my face, and honestly felt amazed about what I had just done.
After: I said hi to some familiar faces, and waited to find my family. My legs cramped up, but taking some time to sit followed by slow walking helped. The worst part was how cold it got, but thankfully I had a nice thermal running blanket that helped keep me warm.
I returned to my apartment, took an amazingly warm, long shower, and headed out to the Highland Morning restaurant with my family to celebrate with the biggest plate of pancakes in the city.
Overall, I thought I’d be more upset about not qualifying for Boston, but I know I did the best I could, and this race just wasn’t the time. I do have some ideas about preparing better next time, and it just gives me something else to work towards.
I’ll get there one day, but for now, I’m enjoying this moment.
Paul Long writes weekly for the NKyTribune about running and runners. For his daily running stories, follow him at dailymile.com or on Twitter @Pogue57