26.2

I fought hard yesterday. My body is reminding me of that in my every movement today. I could feel it in my sleep when I tried to shift positions. I hesitated at getting out of bed and standing up, knowing it would be a struggle. I hobbled to, in and out of my car and across the parking lot, into the building in which I work… all with a goofy, satisfied grin on my face. I am so, so happy to have this pain. I am a grateful victim of the Champion Shuffle. That’s what I call it at least. As you know, I got the shuffle by running the 26.2 mile beast. This is the story of what it took to conquer it.

The first half felt so strong. I maintained a consistent pace and fed off the crowd support. I purposely did not listen to music the entire first half so that I could enjoy the supportive spectators. There were some touching moments and some funny moments during the first half. One of the first powerful moments I experienced occurred early around mile 4. One of the wheelchair racers was struggling to make it up a hill, and every single runner who passed him cheered for him, including myself. It was instinctual. I have no idea what I yelled, but I do remember something encouraging spilling out of my mouth at a volume I could not control. It brings me to tears to think about. Not because I felt sorry for him—I can barely run up a hill, let alone wheel myself up one—but because I was so humbled to be among such supportive people. We were all in it together, and we were all cheering for each other, regardless of ability.

The second moment that jarred me was inspired by a character named Bryer. I had seen runners with shirts that said, “Bryer’s Song.” I gathered that it was a team name, likely inspired by a person, quite possibly a child, who had passed away. Around mile 6, I heard a woman shout, “Bryer was strong! Be strong like Bryer!” Although at the time I wasn’t certain who the angel named Bryer was, I could hear determination in the voice of the encouraging woman. I researched before writing this post, and sadly my guess was accurate.  Bryer was a former patient champion* who moved on to the angel mile this year. <3 p="">

There were also moments of sheer goofiness. As I began to pick up the pace in mile 11, I passed a man in a pink bunny suit. He was running a half (or maybe even full) marathon in a bunny suit, so I’m assuming he was doing this for a higher reason. I did my best not to laugh at him. In my defense, it was just a pretty ridiculous sight. I also saw a couple holding a sign referring to the Beyonce song, “Flawless.” I threw my arms in the air and shouted the word at them as if I had just learned to read. But they loved it and cheered for me in return. Some of the signs that made me laugh the most were, “Run like Ebola is chasing you,” “Run like her dad walked in,” (that one took me a second), and “PENIS.” I only thought that was hilarious because the man holding it was extremely creepy, which just made the whole scene. One of my favorite characters on the course was a person in a monkey suit and mask with a sign that said, “You are all bananas. I love bananas.” He/she was ringing a bell and, not even kidding, making monkey noises at the runners. I laughed so hard at that one, it hurt. I had a few great friends along the course that were holding signs for me. I will forever be grateful for that support. Thank you, Elise, Matt, Renee, Jack, and Nathan.

I knew I was approaching the halfway mark, and I still felt strong. I also knew I would be seeing my aunt and two cousins soon, so I was getting quite eager and probably running a little too fast. Shortly before I saw my family, I saw a couple MIT coaches. MIT is my training group, Marathoners in Training, and I have acquired a second family simply by joining this group of people. The head coach had a camera in hand, as always, so I smiled as I flew by. I was easily identifiable because I was wearing the official MIT shirt, so throughout the entire course, I had cheerleaders. (A HUGE perk I was not expecting!)

When I saw my family, I was flooded with pure joy. It’s always special to see your family on the course, no matter how many times you’ve raced. I sprinted over to Ethan, my three-year-old cousin (I often call him my nephew) who lurched toward me. I thought he was going to chase me. I’m actually kind of sad that he didn’t. His Mom would have had a heck of a time catching him in a marathon. I laugh just thinking of the possibility. Anyway, I grabbed his tiny face and kissed his little cheek. He was wearing his signature, ornery grin, and I could tell that he was just as happy to see me as I was to see him. I could also see the pride and happiness in my aunt’s face, and, well, I can easily make myself cry thinking about that—I love you, Mandy! Mackenzee was there cheering as well, and she also made her support clear on social media. She coined one of the best hashtags I’ve ever seen if I do say so myself. That would be #badassbailey   Heehee.

My grandparents were unable to make it due to my Papaw’s current health conditions, but throughout the race I reminded myself whose blood runs through my veins. I also looked down at my tattooed arms if I needed any inspiration. I especially thought of my grandparents in the “ungodly miles,” miles 18-on. When I was tired or wanted to give up, lie down, cry, lose my freaking mind, all of the above, I thought of my grandparents and how strong they are. <3 p="">

Speaking of the ungodly miles, when I hit mile 22, the finish seemed so close, yet so far. At mile 23 I realized, “Wow. I’m doing this. I’m actually going to finish this thing.” I also thought of you, Adrian Bolin! You’re a fighter! When I hit mile 24, I realized I was almost done prayed for the next mile marker to come quickly.

By the time I got to mile 25, I felt like I was flying. I wanted to finish as quickly as possible. There was a small group of MIT cheerers, and about half a mile from the finish they saw me and shouted, “GO MIT, this is your last big push!” I thought the finish line was around the corner, so I really picked up the pace. It was not. Devastated, I continued the fast pace and turned another corner. Yet again, I could not see the finish line. At that moment, I distinctly remember thinking to myself, “Where the **** is the finish line?!” Finally, a last turn and there it was. It was such a glorious moment, and I was trying to take in the last few seconds of my 4:13:09 journey. The end of the Rolling Stones, “You Can’t Always Get What You Want,” was playing, and if you’re familiar with it, there is a really uplifting piano riff with a choir of what sounds like angels singing on top of that, “You get what you need.”  It was almost movie-like. I could see the crowd, and although I could faintly hear some of the people reading my bib and yelling out my name, I was in my own world of euphoric achievement.

I threw my arms into the air as I crossed the finish and then it finally sank in. I had done it. That was the moment I had been dreaming of since I could remember. I was already breathing hard from pushing that last half mile, and then I started choking up. With that combination, there was a terrifying thirty seconds that I could barely breathe. I wiped my tears from my salty face as a volunteer placed a medal around my neck. A girl who could see that I was struggling a little bit- bless her heart- read my bib and said in the most genuine voice, “Congratulations, Jamie. Good job.”

Someone wrapped me in a space blanket. Someone snapped my picture. I tried to eat a bagel, but everything was a chore at that point. That includes walking. It was so painful. I found my family, and I could tell they were so happy for me. I still felt drugged, so I had a difficult time expressing how thrilled I was by the finish and the presence of my family and friends that I consider family. This whole marathon business has made me realize how truly blessed, lucky, and loved I am. By the end of it I felt like a zombie that crawled out of hell, but you all made me feel like a rockstar. Thank you for believing in me.

It has been four months of chaos, uncertainty, dedication, planning, and ultimately triumph. And I cannot wait to do it again.

*The Nationwide Children’s Hospital Marathon hosts a “Patient Champion” at each mile marker so that the runners can be inspired at every mile. The Marathon also hosts an “Angel Mile,” remembering and celebrating the lives that are lost too soon.