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On December 8, I ran the California International Marathon, my 16th marathon-or-longer. It was not the stellar race my friends had hoped it would be, but it was instead a farewell/victory lap to my best year of running. It reminded me once again that running is about so much more than times and distances: running is about overcoming obstacles and making friends long the way. And so, rather than give a detailed breakdown of every mile time (they ranged from 7:51 to 16:30) that led to my 4:20 finish, I’m going to make this an ode to friends.

A bit of context: After a pretty fantastic year of setting new personal records in distance and speed, my body needed a break. Since mid-October, I’ve had a cranky IT band in my right leg that stiffens up, aches, and forces me to stop and stretch. I’ve also had two months of unhappy lungs and sinuses for the second year in a row. My training was severely limited and I had to accept it.

Lodi Running Club friends: I made the 1.5-hour drive to Sacramento on a Saturday. I was frazzled and in pre-race stress-out mode, but as soon as I walked in the convention center doors, I ran into half a dozen runners from my old group. I hugged Cindy, Leslie & Co., who cheered me up instantly. An hour later, I ran into Janine, my running mentor who first convinced me I could run a marathon. We hugged and recalled the day exactly five years (to the very day) earlier when she was standing at the finish line of my first marathon.

Twitter friends: I missed a tweetup, but Twitter friends still appeared.

Becca: I left the expo and went to hang out with Becca, one of the two friends who went to Ireland with me in September. She was about to leave on yet another adventure, so the timing was perfect. It was good to catch up with her, and nice to get reassurance that I’m not the only one whose head sometimes plays mind games with her.

Kristen and Karin: I then met up with Kristen at our hotel. She’s been my running buddy for almost a year now, and we’ve had many trail adventures together, including my first 50k. She had to drop down to the relay at CIM, but it is always so nice to have her company. We met up with Karin at Olive Garden for dinner, which was a nice bonus.

Kristin: Race morning found me scraping ice off my car at 4:30 in the morning in 27-degree weather. After last year’s CIM monsoon, I did “no rain, no wind” dances for months (if “dancing” means “thinking”), but I neglected to request “non-Arctic temperatures.” Oops. I hopped onto a bus where Kristin was saving me a seat. We rode the Very Long 26 Miles to the start line and hung out on the bus until the race started. It was so nice to have her company for that wait.

Soon the race started, Kristin and I hugged, and I was on my way, wearing a long-sleeved shirt for my first marathon ever. And capris. And mitten-gloves. And an ear warmer that I thought I would throw away at some point but did not — so I’m horribly mis-matched in all of my equally horrible race photos.

Random runners: In mile two, a guy came up next to me and commented on my Marathon Maniacs shirt. He was wearing a kilt, introduced himself as Bobby, and we chatted about Maniacs. About half a mile later he took off, but that mile wound up being a 7:51 — and I was talking comfortably during it. Oops?

I got to mile 3, looked at my watch, and saw 24:00. Ummm, yeah, I was running WAY TOO FAST. At the 5.9-mile mark, my average pace was 8:11 (including walking through two water stops because the ground was a sheet of ice). Friends tracking online began to think I was going to qualify for Boston, though I knew that was never going to happen due to my lack of training. However, I was actually following my very loose plan: run at any pace that felt good, for as long as I could until my IT band or my lungs went on strike. That’s what I did, and I have no regrets, because now I know what it’s like to be running with 3:30 marathoners. It was inspiring and motivating.

Hometown connection: Around mile 12 I heard, “Layla? Layla Bohm?” It was Heidi from my hometown, who had been friends with my sister when they were in grade school. She recognized me from behind in the middle of a marathon. She also spotted me in the finish area last year at CIM, which was the first time we had seen each other in more than 20 years. How?!

Bay Area friends: Both my leg and my lungs started getting unhappy around mile 8, and I reached the halfway point in 1:51 (8:42 pace). Shortly before that, I rounded a curve and suddenly saw Cate, Mike, their little girl Ellie and Alyssa. That was a nice surprise! Apparently Aron and Naomi were also there, but I had already passed the group.

Michaela: Just after mile 13, my IT band was very unhappy and forcing me to stop and stretch it. And then, at mile 15.5, Michaela appeared. She was screaming her head off, holding a sign, and got so excited when she saw me. I blurted out something like, “Oh my god, I’m dying and you are the best sight ever.” I felt bad for hugging her because I was sweaty, but oh, it was such a wonderful relief to see her. I told her my leg was not happy and that I’d been walking. “I was tracking you online. 8:11 pace for the first six miles?! What the f**k were you doing?!” Michaela said. That was the best, funniest thing she could have said. It was hilarious.

I trudged along, having to stretch in every mile. I saw a corgi, which made me smile. I saw an entire mile of funny poop-related signs. I saw two blind runners who inspired me. I ran through the intersection of Watt and Fair Oaks avenues, marveling at the fact that Sacramento’s busiest intersection was entirely closed for runners.

The last relay exchange point boosted my spirits, because I was hoping to see Kristen. I searched the crowds, thought I’d missed her, then saw her waving and cheering. I ran over to her, leaned against the barricade and said, “This sucks!” Everyone around her burst out laughing, which actually helped me gain some perspective.

And then, going over the one bridge on the course, I stopped yet again to stretch my aching leg, and suddenly the opposite muscle cramped — double-whammy of pain. I found myself crying there at mile 19. The 4:00 pace group surged past me, and I just did not have the heart to go with them. I really wanted to just quit the marathon, but deep down I knew I would regret it. So I willed myself to run, because when have I EVER walked down the other side of a bridge?

Marathon Maniacs: And then I reached mile 21 or 22 and saw two yellow Marathon Maniacs shirts in the distance. I felt new energy and told myself to just catch up to them. They were Chris and Erin, a husband and wife. Erin has qualified for Boston but on this day she was also struggling with her right IT band. Their buddy, Larry, was also a Maniac. I asked if I could hang with them, and they said yes. They were run/walking, doing what Erin could manage.

I’d been doing mental math for a while (to occupy my brain) and knew I had about a 4:05 finish in me. I also knew it would be a mental fight and a battle with my leg. Or I could stay with these Maniacs and stop thinking about the clock. And that’s what I did. We walked. We jogged. We stopped when Erin needed a bathroom break (that was the 16-minute mile, and it involved stretching and eating oranges while we waited). We stopped again so she could kiss her baby in mile 26. We stood out, because Erin was wearing a brightly colored shirt and skirt, tights that have muscle outlines on them and pink paint in her blonde hair. It was great. And I finally stopped thinking about my leg.

We reached the finish line, where the men and women split off for some unknown reason that really annoys spectators and runners alike, so we couldn’t get a group finishing picture. But I did finish with Erin. We both smiled as we crossed the finish line, and I know for certain that I wouldn’t have smiled if I had kept pushing myself for that 4:05 finish. The clock hadn’t mattered; fellow runners were better.

I crossed the finish line, profusely thanked the person who wrapped a heat sheet around me, and promptly lost my Maniac buddies before we could get a picture. I turned on my cell phone and texted one person before my brain shut down, as it normally does between the time I stop running and the time I get some food. My teeth were chattering and I was shivering, and the text replies were the only thing keeping my brain functioning. Then my fingers got so cold that I couldn’t really text, and I was in a sea of people, wondering how and where I could get my warm clothes. I was so incredibly overwhelmed. It didn’t help that I hadn’t even opened the water bottle they gave me at the finish line.

Steve: Then one of my old running buddies, Steve, appeared in front of me. He’d just run a 4:17, two weeks after finishing a 50-miler. We hugged and he took me to get our bags. He pointed to my bag line, went to get his, and told me to wait for him in the sun. My jacket didn’t make me any warmer, but having some direction helped me get my mental bearings. Steve came back, and then I left the poor guy, because he was waiting for other friends while I was walking to my car. He helped so much, though.

I got to the hotel, showered, and continued shivering. I’m not usually thrilled to drive after a marathon, but this time I was so happy to turn on the car heater. I got on the road, made a phone call, and proceeded to analyze/deconstruct the marathon for the next 1.5+ hours. Anyone who listens to me after a marathon, especially if I’ve only eaten some potato chips, deserves a gold star.