Two weeks ago I ran my first marathon. I got this crazy idea in January when my friend Katie Kabe mentioned that she was training for her second marathon.

Ever since I helped a coach train for the 100th Boston Marathon several years ago, running a marathon had always been in the back of my mind.

Deep down I knew that I wanted to take the 26.2 mile challenge sometime during my life, but I never would’ve guessed it would be so soon.

I have been a runner since fourth grade. I was too terrified to try to serve a volleyball, but I loved to beat the boys when we ran the mile.

During my years as a Pocahontas Maiden, I ran every race from the 400 meter dash to a two-mile cross country race. I ran in seven state meets and I contemplated running at a small college.

Despite that, I decided to come to Iowa State and become a recreational runner instead.

Katie and I laced up our Sauconys for our first weekend training run in January. We started out with a two hour run and gradually worked up to three hours. During the week, we usually went on several shorter runs.

On May 13, the big day, my alarm went off at 4:45 a.m. so I could be ready to start at 6:00.

The marathon course began and finished on Airport Road in Ames, but I’m willing to bet that most of you were totally unaware that a marathon was being run on the streets of your city.

The main running event that morning was the Great North American TIMTAM 50 kilometer ultra marathon. TIMTAM is an acronym for “this is more than a marathon.”

Most of the participants ran the 50 kilometer (31 mile) race.

This was the only time in my life that I felt lazy for only running 26.2 miles.

As we awaited the start, it began to rain. According to the forecast, it was supposed to be superb marathon-running weather. It wasn’t.

Afraid of getting soaked to the bone, we asked the manager of the Baymont Inn if we could have a pair of trash bags to use as raincoats.

We used a pair of scissors to crudely fashion our newest running gear.

At the start, I surveyed the group. There were about 40 runners, including just 10 women.

We appeared to be the youngest racers.

Several men wore shirts boasting that they had run 50 kilometer races in all 50 states.

These people were die-hard runners.

They had come from all over the country to run a race on a gravel road.

The holler of a race official signified the beginning of the race.

I felt ridiculous running in my makeshift raincoat. Whenever we passed someone, our coats sounded like sails flapping in the wind.

After a mile, the rain stopped and we ditched the trash bags.

A mile later as we cruised along 13th St. it began to pour, and then it started to hail.

When the hail finally stopped, we heard thunder and saw lightning.

The thunderstorms and rain showers continued for two hours.

I prayed for our safety, but I would not stop after all the effort I’d put into this.

We decided to forget our goal of finishing in three hours and 45 minutes. Our new goal was simply to finish.

Katie and I met some interesting people during the race. First, we met John, who enjoyed running 100 mile races. He finished one in 25 hours.

Then there was flip-flop man. He wore a pair of Nike sandals during the entire race. He told us about a time that all his toenails turned black after a marathon, so he decided to never wear running shoes again. I was thrilled when he passed us and we didn’t have to listen to his shoes slapping the ground any longer.

We plodded on at our 9:30 mile pace.

At the half-way point we slurped down Hammer Gel samples from our race packets. After running for two hours, even orange slime tastes pretty good.

At mile 17, we paused for refreshments at the deluxe aid station.

I grabbed an orange slice and a Gatorade and Katie reached for a red beverage that looked like V-8.

“That’s a Bloody Mary,” said the volunteer. Katie passed and took a Gatorade instead.

A few minutes later I was faced with my worst fear. After drinking half a gallon of beverages, I had to pee.

Luckily, we were running along a gravel road bordered with grass-filled ditches and there wasn’t a runner in site.

My biggest concern was that once I stopped and did my business, I wouldn’t be able to get back up.

Fortunately, it wasn’t as difficult as I anticipated.

As we passed the staked paper plate marking 20 miles, we felt as if we were on autopilot. We couldn’t slow down or speed up, but only keep going. Our muscles began to tighten and our knees became stiff.

The rained had stopped and the wind was pushing us to the finish.

As our friends and relatives watched us stumble to the finish, they could definitely tell that we had just run 26.2 miles.

My butt was sore, my hamstrings were tight, and I felt like any exaggerated motion would make my tendons snap.

We heard the timer announce “4:11:29” as we crossed the finish line.

After a round of post-race survival photos, all I wanted was a hot shower.

I don’t know if I’ll ever run a marathon again, but I’m definitely glad I tried it.

By the way, this column is 26.2 inches long, the same distance as a marathon.

Ruth Spangler is a senior in biology from Pocahontas. She is a news editor of the Daily.