It's (un)official.

I'm a little off.

I kept meaning to write a more detailed post about the slog-fest that was the Glass City marathon DNF of last Sunday, but I just couldn't figure out what to say. My pre-race nerves were on high-alert, my nervousness about the heat came to fruition, and although stepping off the course at 15.5 was like a weight off my shoulders, I felt all week like I had unfinished business.

I looked into registering for the Delaware Marathon in 2 weeks. Closed out.
I even considered registering for NJ (this weekend), but it was also closed out.

I needed to finish my spring marathon. My training had no closure.

I have too many commitments next weekend. I would be cheering on my friends at the Broad Street Run in Philly today. I didn't want to wait for weeks from now, because I'd have to rework more training...

So Friday I drove to the shore. I didn't tell anyone what I was thinking. I didn't say anything more than I planned on waking up in the morning and running until I stop, but my dad got the hint.

Years ago, he had a score to settle with the marathon distance and ran his own on Long Beach Island. Yesterday morning, I did the same.

Woke up at 5, ate my normal pre-race breakfast, and felt calm. No pre-race jitters, no nervousness. I didn't know how my legs would handle 26.2 miles just 6 days after the beating they took at Glass City (they were sore until Wednesday!), but I had to do this. While I wanted to feel good about my time, I didn't put any expectations on myself. I knew my legs weren't in top shape, so I just hoped to cover the distance and feel good about the run.

I left a note for my parents and slipped out of the house for a 7am sharp start. Just like a real race. I headed south for the first half of my first 12 mile loop. At the turn-around, I decided to go one more mile, so by the time I got back past the house, I'd have run 14 already. I passed my sister-in-law and two neices walking their dog at the turn around and yelled, I can't stop! I might be running a marathon right now! My SIL watched me, took a second to think about what I just said, and started yelling Go Lora Go! The little girls joined in. My only true crowd support the whole day! Sweet! My pace was good, I was feeling good. I kept going.

I figured my dad would try to find me at some point in the middle of that first loop, but he apparently couldn't find me. I felt bad that I didn't see him -- I watched his truck cross the street about 6 blocks ahead of me at one point, but we never crossed paths. I felt bad, but I was feeling pretty good, so I didn't dwell on it. I would end up running most of this race without an ipod, or water/aid stations, or any real crowd support.

When I got back to my parents' block, I uncapped my water, ran into the house, filled my bottle, and yelled to my mom that I was going to keep going. I ran back out the door, completing a less-than-60-second water station stop.

I threw an extra mile loop north in, and then headed back south to do almost the same loop as the first -- but a bit shorter. My dad finally found me around mile 15.5, and asked how I was feeling. I told him I was tired, but ok. I was on a good pace -- probably looking at just two minutes or so slower than my PR.

Less than a mile later, my legs would remind me they were still worked from last weekend. By mile 17, they were hurting. I kept telling myself, just slow down a little. No stopping until you hit the store and refill the water for the last half of the loop home. (My family's store would be right there after I turned around at about mile 21 to head home to the finish line.)

Around mile 19 I got a weird pain in my lower left side. Not a cramp, really, but it doubled me over. I had to stop short and walk for about 30 seconds to catch my breath. After that, I was ok and started running again. I got to the turn-around, stopped for another super-quick water pit stop at the store, and was excited to think I only had 5 miles to go to the finish. I've run these 5 miles home a bazillion times. No big deal.

Up to this point, I had been taking my strips and taking my gels and all that seemed to be working. I didn't feel woozy at all (for a change!) and other than my legs feeling completely shot, I was doing well. This is what I needed. This is what I need to remember for the future. I knew if I had stronger legs on this day, I'd be running a strong race.

When I made the turn up to the ocean road for the last 2.2 miles to home, I was psyched. I smiled at a little kid on a bike. I smelled the ocean. I giggled at the fact that just now it was starting to rain. Whatever -- I was almost done a marathon. Let it rain.

I had to stop to walk out the tightness in my legs for a block or so twice in those last 5 miles, and overall my pace in those last 10 miles slowed considerably. Even so, I knew I would be finishing in a time that was faster than my slowest marathon, so I was happy. It really wasn't about the time. It was about finishing unfinished business.

At mile 25.5 I started to feel overcome with emotion. Other than Marine Corps, which I didn't race, it's been so long since I've run a long distance race or a marathon where I didn't feel sick, or woozy, or defeated.

At mile 26, a block before my parents' house, my dad pulled up next to me in his truck. How are you? he asked. I've got .3 to go, I told him. And smiled. I handed him my water bottle and I sprinted past the house to the finish line a few blocks north. When I crossed the 26.2 mile mark, I stopped, bent over and touched the street, and stopped my watch. 4:18:04. Smack in the middle of my 4 other marathon times.

Years ago when my dad did his LBI marathon, a friend had a plaque made for him. He had given me the plaque after one of my frustrating marathons, and said maybe someday I'd just get up and run my own marathon.

I didn't run my LBI marathon as fast as my dad did, but I ran it.

It's unofficial, but it's worth it. It's not fast, but it's worth it.

I did it by myself, and it was worth it.