Race Day started off with a planned 5:30am alarm, but of course my jet-lag body was moving around at 4am.  I tossed and turned until deciding to get moving.  Weather forecast was predicting 45-50 F with intermittent showers.  No big deal!  I’ve trained in every kind of weather over the last 16 weeks – except dry air with warm sunny skies.

After I finished up my breakfast, I began the short stroll to corral D (Gate 2). I still don’t know how I ended up in Corral D, when I was probably more in shape for Corral E. At the gate entrance, I had to show my Global Safety Japan app with COVID tests uploaded and temp screening done. If there were no alerts, I would receive a green screen which was my entry pass into the gate. Once I scanned the QR code, I breathed a sigh of relief and proceeded to the security checkpoint. I wasn’t allowed to have any liquids. I had 15 Huma gels on me (1 gel every 2 mi + a few in case I dropped them). Technically, I was only allowed 11 gels per the rules of the race, but no one actually spent time to count them. At this point, I was by myself with 38,000+ other runners. My husband was going back to the hotel to workout and eventually make his way through town to the finish line, where he’d be waiting with fresh clothes and a high-five. I wasn’t going to make him find me mid-race because it’s just too complicated in a big race like this.

One of the best things about Race Day was the starting corral warmup area, where we waited for 2hrs until gun time.  On the walk, I met 2 other Americans – one from WV and one from CA.  I don’t remember their names, other than they are in a large Facebook group that I’m part of for the World Marathon Majors.   We swapped stories about training and what Tokyo meant to us.  All 3 of us were deferred runners from 2020, so we gave each other high-fives for making it here.  The runner from WV was running her 118th marathon in her mid 60s.  This blew my mind!  Here I was as the newbie, running my 6th marathon.  The runner from CA was traveling solo, a school teacher who shared her thoughts on today’s educational society in America while caring for her paraplegic husband.  And then there’s me, just a crazy runner who battled some tough injuries and returning to 26.2 for the first time in 625 days.  The marathon was the distance that literally broke my skeleton apart, but also saved my life.

As the port-o-potty lines grew excessively long, my new runner friends opted to stand in that line while I went my own way to get in my dynamic warmup.  My goal was to use zero restrooms because I just can’t stand waiting in line!  We gave each other first pumps – that was the last I would see of them.  However, it was everything that I needed to calm my nerves and communicate with English speaking individuals without a translator app.

I got in my dynamic warmup and the joints all felt smooth. The temp was around 45 F, with clear skies. I was amazed watching how many runners just stood in the corrals, shoulder to shoulder, shivering in tank tops and short shorts. Here was this Michigander, with gloves, ear warmers, and Smartwool pants. I thought 40s for Race Day would be exactly like 40s back home…but I was completely wrong! Keep reading!

Japan has a lot of rules and one of the race rules meant the race was done at 4:10pm sharp. This gave everyone 7 hours to cross the finish line. I knew I would be more than fine from the balloon sweepers. This rule did help the starting corrals go relatively fast. I was in Corral D and literally was on my way by 9:13am JST (7:13pm EST). The first 5k went relatively well, just tried to be very conservative to survive the long trek ahead. However, I realized that it was MUCH hotter than I had expected and also the air was much drier than anything I have trained in. I was parched by 5k and took the first water table, grabbing my quarter-filled cup of water and quarter-filled cup of Pocari Sweat. I took my 2nd gel and kept on my way.

By the time I arrived at 10k, I was cooking, but the body was solid.  I started to shed some layers of clothes, but my bib was attached to my long sleeve so that had to stay.  I took another gel and tried to play catch-up a bit on nutrition.  The water tables were a bit crowded and I got shoved around a few times.  I just elbowed a few people back and had some space.  However, the more the race progressed, the area of the water tables became a sticky mess on the ground from all the spilled Pocari sweat.  My running shoes would literally stick to the ground like gum.

As 15k rolled through, I thought about how fluid everything was going, other than my thermostat which was roasting by now.  I shed my gloves, my arm sleeves under my long sleeve shirt, and my neck buff.  I crammed it all into my vest front pocket.  I stayed on top of nutrition, which often meant that I had to take my Huma without anything to flush it down.

At the halfway mark, I felt like I was surviving out there, given the conditions. Because I had been taking every water table every 4-5k, I knew my goal time was out the window. I asked myself what I needed to do to cross the finish line with all body parts intact and in the upright position. It became a game of Tetris, just putting together every 5k segment I could to withstand the warm temps of the day.

Sometime between the halfway mark (21k) and 25k, I started questioning if I really wanted to finish this race, or just drop out, save my skeleton, and pick a race once I got back home to the States. As an athlete, you have to pick and choose when to go all-in and when to be conservative. Between excessive jet lag and lack of proper fueling in the days leading up to the race, I just felt off my usual game. As I battled with myself, I decided to stick with the race because I didn’t come this far to just quit. I settled on survival mode and that meant every single hydration stop.

By Mile 16, I was overcooking.  I decided it was time to break Japanese conduct after the next water table.  I stepped to the side and took off my shirt with my bib attached.  I tied it in the tightest knot I could while a Japanese spectator smiled at me and said “Go! Go! Go!” as I got back into the game.  I was now running in long pants, sports bra, and my hydration vest that had my Huma (and my many shed layers).  I had tossed out my hat by now into the trash because I didn’t want to carry it.  I left my ear warmers on because they helped to keep my AirPods in place instead of falling out.

By the time Garmin hit 20mi, I was feeling like a fresh crayon in the box. I felt great and started making up some of my lost time. I still had to hit every water table, but the Huma was doing its thing. Not a single piece of my skeleton was screaming for help! This was a HUGE win in my book. All of my past marathons would see me taper off after 20mi. Something would always scream for help. However, today I was leaping past the carnage of cramping bodies. I saw a few people needing medics and I just kind of laughed as I cruised on by. I saw a few people stretching their calves, but mine were completely fine. This was the point in the race where I was having fun!

So much of my hard work was paying dividends!  All of the strength work was making me feel invincible and the fast finish long runs were making the last 10k feel like a breeze.  This was exactly what I had been working on all training season, for this moment, right here and now.  I’m not sure if it was that or finally all the Huma kicking in, but I had extra energy to high five a group of spectators dressed in red holding “You Got This” signs.  This was after Mile 22, my best mile of the day.  I think they gave me an extra energy kick because I was kicking it now!

I passed the 35km sign, as my AirPods died out. No big deal. I took them out and finally took off my ear warmers. People in the crowd were now more noticeable to me, as I saw people dressed as sunflower costumes and Super Mario Brothers costumes. I promise I was not hallucinating! There were some wild spectators—and I couldn’t understand anything they were screaming because of the language barrier.

I hit the last water table around 40km and chugged one more Huma. As we made the approach into the finish area, the course had us turn off the nicely paved road onto a brick cobblestone road. This was absolutely cruel for the last 2km. If anyone knows me, I love my roads and I really love smooth pavement. I don’t love uneven pavement, trails, or off-roading. I thought about my bib that was tied on my waist and decided I didn’t care about my finish line pictures enough to waste any time with it. I kicked it into gear…and finally, became a Tokyo Marathon Finisher, with all body parts completely intact — no broken bones this time!

While my finish time fell short of my what fitness was capable for the 3rd race in a row, I was happy that I proved to myself that 26.2 doesn’t have to be grueling and I no longer feared breaking bones. I also proved to myself that “Good is good enough.” A training season can be less than perfect and still turn out good enough results. I accomplished the ability to fight through excessive jet lag, ran an international race, abided by a million COVID rules, and crossed the finish line with all skeletal parts intact to build upon for the next training season.

I didn’t play at the top of my game, but I sure as heck gave it what I could on this particular day.  I maybe played more conservative than I usually do, but that will be rewarding as I’ll be able to hit the next training block from a more solid foundation.  I came away from this race with some crazy lessons about international racing that I never have learned before, but most importantly, I came out from this race with absolutely zero season-ending injuries.  I’m just starting my Redemption Tour 2023 and just getting warmed up to the 26.2 distance again.

What I love about 26.2 is that it’s a distance that you cannot just show up for and expect to have a good day. It’s much easier to do that for shorter races that don’t require as much time commitment. The marathon can eat you alive if you are not prepared. It can break you apart if you are burnt out from training. The marathon requires immense preparation, grit, fortitude, sacrifice, and patience. A good day means preparation paid off. A great day means every element was above par for the day. Today, I had a good day and finally enjoyed the process more than the results. After all, if it’s not fun, it’s not worth doing. See you later this fall, 26.2. I’m not done with you!