Submitted by Ashley Austin
The idea to run a marathon was born during my sister's bachelorette weekend trip to Charleston. She and I, along with our friend Joanna, had the bright idea to commit to the task while running along the Isle of Palms one warm September morning. The Myrtle Beach Marathon had been my plan all along for one reason -- no hills!
We decided to start training after Angela's wedding in October in order to be ready to run by Valentine’s Day. We talked a few others into partaking in the adventure with us. Angela, Joanna and I, along with my boyfriend Joe and our friend Justin signed up for the full. Angela's husband Matt decided to race the half.
Two nights before the marathon, several of us got together to carb load and discuss the weekend. Pasta and bread mixed with lots of laughs helped us calm our nerves and focus before the big day. We drove down to Myrtle Beach on Friday and no one slept very well that night. We were all anxious and thinking of the day to come. I could not help but ponder all the negative things that might happen. Maybe it will rain. Maybe I will get dehydrated. Maybe I will hit the wall...at mile six! Eventually my mind wound down and I was able to sleep for a few hours.
I awoke at 4:45 a.m. to my cell phone alarm, which sounded eerily similar to Korsakov's "Flight of the Bumblebees." I shot out of bed, immediately thinking I was running late. I was wrong. I walked into the kitchen to eat my regular pre-run breakfast: half a bagel with honey and a banana with peanut butter.
Soon the rest of the runners were awake, and as we scrambled to get ready, I thought for the first time how wonderful it would feel to finish. I contemplated the worth of being able to say "oh yes, I've run a marathon." Regardless of how incredible that would be, I still had a lot of work to do first.
We arrived at the start a few minutes before 6:30 a.m. Matt and Joanna ran to the port-o-johns and my sister and I got to the start line 60 seconds before the race director screamed across the sound system "time for the 2009 Myrtle Beach Marathon!" We were off.
I started alongside my sister and Joanna. After the first mile, we came up with the idea to make a list of all the things we were thankful for, mentioning one item each mile. My first thought was the weather, I was so thankful it was not raining yet. Maybe it would hold off.
Throughout the marathon I continued this process. I thought of other things in my life I tended to take for granted – my running shoes, my family and friends, Chick-fil-a, Jesus, my education, Classic Rock music, my jobs, laughter, ice cream, beach volleyball, summer vacations, Joe, dentists, Kurt Vonnegut's short stories, flat irons and Zaxby's ice.
By mile four, my running companions had dropped me and I was trudging along solo. I met up with Justin around mile five and we ran together for several miles. Every now and then we'd talk, but during the times that we were silent, I had the opportunity to listen to the runners around me and the stories they told.
One man was running his 50th marathon. He wore a black shirt that said "It's my birthday" on the back. A woman was running her first marathon at age 50, and another was with a group of 30 women, all running to support their local running apparel and vacuum cleaner store in North Carolina. These individuals and tales of their adventures encouraged me during the first eight miles.
At mile nine the course turned off Ocean Boulevard and onto Highway 17. Spectators were cheering and holding signs for their loved ones. I pretended their cheers were specifically aimed at me and found it to be quite helpful.
The highway traffic was bearable and only four miles stood between me and the halfway mark. When I passed the 13.1 sign, I said a prayer for Matt. I thought about how excited I was when I ran my first half marathon. Then I thought how awful it was that I was only halfway done. The clock read 2:15. I passed a man and woman and said "how about we do that one more time!" They laughed. I considered crying.
Once the half marathoners turned off the course, the amount of runners with whom I talked dwindled drastically. I made a point to say hello to everyone I saw. Runners who passed me were greeted with an attempted smile, and I thanked every bystander who said anything uplifting. To the few runners I was able to pass, I stated how great they were doing, and how happy they were going to be when they crossed the finish line. Many runners said thanks. One girl laughed in my face.
A young boy stood at a water station around mile 14 and played his trombone. I smiled and waved my hand. The song he played resounded in my mind long after I ran by. Later, I passed a group of teenagers cheering for one of their high school teachers. Their car speakers were blaring "Crank Dat Soulja Boy," and though I'm not much of a rap fan, I was thankful for the change of pace that the song brought about.
Mile 16 was my first experience with a water station gone terribly wrong. My goal for the marathon was to never stop running. Because of this, I opted for the "grab and go" method, taking the cup from the volunteer's hand and folding the side into a point so I could drink and run simultaneously. This time, however, my plan failed. More water went up my nose than it did down my throat. I decided that walking through water stations was officially allowed. My nostrils were clean enough.
At mile 17, the course opened up and I saw the ocean. I could hear the waves beating against the shore as I ran by. The salt of the sea swept across my face, and I was glad to finally see the beach that I had been running near for so long.
Between miles 18 and 19 I came across my sister. Since I had last seen her, she had run with Joanna until mile 16 where she decided to slow down due to a stress fracture in her left foot. We ran together for several miles and talked about the things we had seen. It was nice having her there with me. I was tired of the lack of conversation.
The course wound back to Highway 17 around mile 21 and traffic was endless. Exhaust fumes assaulted my lungs and the skies opened up as rain began to fall. My feet were cold. Angela and I discussed what others would say about us and our lack of common sense. The laughter carried us through the storm.
I left Angela at mile 22 in an attempt to finish under five hours. I could see my breath and wished I had sleeves to cover my arms and block them from the rain. At mile 23 a man rode by on his bicycle shouting encouragements as he flew. A few meters later, a woman stood in the pouring rain shouting "you look good. You look damn good!" Her words brought a tear to my eye. I was motivated. I was going to finish. I was running a marathon!
By mile 25 I had slowed down a lot. Matt stood at the mile marker and said I was almost there. I loved hearing those words.
Joanna and her husband stood at mile 26 and shouted for me as I rounded the corner. Running down the final stretch I heard the race director say "here comes Ashley Austin from Taylors, South Carolina." I ran across the mat at 4:57:32. I could not stop smiling.
Matt finished his half in 2:23:25 and Joanna finished the full in 4:22:12. My sister crossed the line at 5:06:45 and Justin followed at 5:13:16. I was pumped, cold, and ready to watch Joe cross the line so we could all celebrate our achievements.
Since Joe was still out on the course, I walked to mile 26 to cheer him on. Soon I saw Joe running toward me and I ventured out into the road to meet him. He slowed to a halt, and I was caught off guard.
"Keep running Joe. You're almost there!"
As I said the words, Joe grabbed my hand. I was confused. I thought maybe he would tell me he was unhappy with the race, with the weather, or with me because I instigated the whole event.
Before I knew it, Joe had gotten down on one knee and opened a small box. Inside the box, there sat a beautiful ring.
He said, "Will you marry me?"
I said yes. We ran across the finish line together. That evening we all went out to eat and celebrate with a few friends who came down to visit and witness the engagement. Bedtime came early for everyone Saturday evening, and Sunday we awoke knowing we were headed home.
I learned a lot from running the Myrtle Beach Marathon. I learned how much power my mind has over my body. I learned that listening to the stories of others often helps me focus on something other than my own struggles. I learned to make new friends, laugh incessantly, push through my own pain, praise God for volunteers, and encourage myself when finishing felt impossible.
I left Myrtle Beach with a new sense of accomplishment, a race day t-shirt, a marathon medal, and a brand new fiancé. Who can argue with those results?
Watch the video from mile 26 at this link.