4:39

Difficulty (n): the quality or state of being hard to deal with, manage, or overcome

Everyone knows that marathons are 'difficult'. After finishing our first (and only) marathon last week, we have a myriad of OTHER vocabulary words to describe the experience.

Exhaustion
Our Wednesday morning flight to Jordan took to the air 13 hours after touching down Tuesday night Westbound from the Maldives. We then sat through a 3 hour car ride from Amman to Petra (see earlier post on the significance of Petra)... enjoyed our fourth Chicken and Rice meal in 28 hours and collapsed at our quaint village inspired hotel high in the moutains of Southern Jordan. After receiving an unexpectedly early wake up call (airplane AND internet were wrong: Jordan is NOT one hour behind Qatar), we rushed out of the hotel and were rambling our way on horseback towards the entrance to Petra's famous Siq (pathway into the mountain). A three hour private walking tour of some incredible sights was followed by another 3 hour car ride back to Amman. Mt. Nebo and Madaba will have to wait for our next trip... we cancelled our other tourist activities to conserve whatever energy we had left.

Nerves
I'm not sure what made us more nervous: meeting several die-hard marathoners at the Carb-Loading party the night before the race (shaved heads, track suits); being directed to the wrong tour bus at 4am and not realizing it until the tour guide started asking 'wer die Außenseiter sind' (where are the stowaways in German); leaving all of our bags & belongings with those same Germans (most of whom were friendly) in hopes that we could find that bus again at the Dead Sea; or getting to the start line 30mins before the race to discover they didn't have any bathrooms (fyi... the cramped 3 stall men's bathroom at the check-in was the #1 worst smell I've EVER experienced, accompanied by the #3 and #4 worst sounds I've EVER heard - good way to loosen up before the big race).

Excitement
After finding a 'private' area near the start line, a few feet away from the other runners relieving themselves, we followed the 70 other marathon participants to the makeshift start line and after a hushed moment of anticipation headed up our first hill. The website for the marathon describes the first 12km as 'slightly up and down hill', as we crested the first hill and put the first of 42km behind us the road tilted sharply down and for atleast 14km we felt like running down a bobsled run. The twists and turns kept us guessing and the views were spectacular, like the drive down from the mountains outside San Diego. Each time we checked our splits we were gaining on our personal best and felt like we had finally arrived at the climax of our training. We crossed the half marathon marker at 2:01, 12 minutes faster than we had in training and felt empowered. The road had leveled off completely, the mountains fell back in the distance and the sun rose high in the morning sky to illuminate straight desert asphalt ahead. We were too overwhelmed with the joy and anticipation of beating our goal time of 4:30 to notice the damage done to our bodies or the significant change in temperature.

Doubt
With little to look at besides dirt and the endless blacktop in front of us, the aches and pains crept into our forethought, and around 16km to go we decided to walk and catch our breath - after all we were now 20 mins ahead of our goal pace, a little walk could help us loosen up those tight calves and might help control the pain developing in Sheri's knee. Unfortunately, the moment we downshifted to a strong walk we were blindsided... like no physical barrier we had ever experienced. The walk felt more painful than the run had, so we tried to get back to a steady jog and recover our pace but our legs weren't responding. We were 10 miles from the finish and were no longer worried about time, we actually doubted whether we could finish the race.

Frustration
The kilometer markers which had appeared to fly by only a few minutes ago were now spaced ages apart, making the 2km water stations 20 minutes apart instead of 10. An intense frustration began to well up... how could we have trained so dilligently and have stumbled so far from the finish? We didn't care what was to blame, the only thing on our mind was a growing concern that we may not finish our only Marathon... we weren't only thinking about it, we actually started TALKING about it. The marathon had crippled our bodies and had sent us spiraling into a state of delierium, unable to focus, able only to process three things: Pain, Heat, and Distance to Finish, and the sum of those variables produced a frightening forecast.

Anger
Humbled by nature, we had a sudden boost of energy when the road took a sharp turn left - only to discover that the last marker we passed was 11km NOT 10km as we 'remembered' (further evidence that we were losing grip), and our pace was continuing to slow - unable to jog for more than 500m at a time, and fully aware of how long it would take to finish the next 10km if we didn't try. We pushed onward. Fortunately the field had spaced out, and as we discovered later most other bodies were experiencing the same shut down all along the course... we took note of each person we passed, encouraging them onward - while many of those passing us did the same. In that spirit of commradery most shared between Sheri and I, we put one foot in front of the other and in unison continued our brief jogs until there were 4km to go... the 2nd to last water station. Except, the 2nd to last water station was EMPTY, ransacked by kids about to start their fun run... it had been 20 mins since our last bottle of water and we had atleast 15 more to go before the next. Unable to resist the knawing doubt in our minds we broke down, and were it not for a passing ambulance crew who offered us their water bottles we would not have finished the marathon. I'll pause now briefly in lieu of writing the real words that express our complete and utter disappointment in the organizing committee for letting one of the most critical water stations run dry.

Accomplishment
Two long hills and then the finish line... which we didn't recognize until 200m out. A line that two hours ago we estimated was only an hour and a half away. A line that symbolized so much as we approached our legs finally responded and with a rush of adrenaline we crossed the line in a pace that rivaled that of the downhill sections so many hours before... 4 hours 39 minutes, despite all that had gone wrong - a success. In the rush of events that followed we nearly fell down on several occasions, ate a red apple, drank 3 bottles of water (they managed to have some water at the FINISH) and met several runners in the recovery tent, trading stories and exchanging congratulations. As we sat in the tent hearing veteran runners complain of the same ailments that had struck us - too fast a pace, too steep of a descent, no water at the 4km station - it occurred to us that in that moment we had joined a small group of people (less than 200) who had traveled from around the world to conquer the Dead Sea Marathon and Ultramarathon, and we agreed to NEVER do something that stupid ever again.

The most authentic human experiences use the entire pallet of emotion to produce an unforgettable journey.