Marathon

So for some reason this year I decided to make a New Year’s resolution to run a Marathon. I really can’t remember any other resolutions I made, and I conveniently did not write them down. But the marathon is a hard one to forget. So after we got all settled in Rochester, I started training. I really only trained for 3 months, and next time I will not make this mistake again. I think it takes at least 4 months, but 6 would be even better. Having said that, if I had to keep running for another month, I would probably shoot myself, I was getting pretty sick of it. Annie probably was too. I would do my long runs on a Saturday morning and be gone for 2 ½ o3 3 ½ hours and then be totally sore and wasted I would just sit and watch football all afternoon. (Tip to the guys: if you want to watch football all afternoon without complaint from your wife, sign up and train for a Marathon).

Anyway, fast-forward to the race, Annie and I drove to Connecticut for our first weekend alone together since the kids were born. This turned out to be a real jip for Annie, since the weekend ended up being all preparation and recovery for my race. I had mixed feelings about the race, I was nervous, but part of me felt like it was just another long run. My longest training run was 22 miles, how big a deal could another 4 miles be? I thought for sure being keyed up and excited from the race day that I would come in under my time goal of 4 hours, I thought maybe by even 15 minutes or more. But then that voice would say, “You’ve never done this before! It’s been 2 weeks since your last long run can you still do it?” And then I would feel nervous again.

Race day: We arrived early because I am totally paranoid about missing the start and I’ve been having dreams for several nights already about being late. We find the porta-johns because some how my body knows exactly what is about to happen and feels the need to void my bladder 50 times this morning. There are 100 porta-johns and probably 1000 people waiting in line. I’ve never been to a race this big before, and people are wearing plastic bags. What the? I find out why later.

It’s about time to start and I shed my warm ups and give them to Annie. We say our last goodbyes since I may die out there, and I disappear into the crowd. There are 8000 people running in the races of various distances that all start at the same place. Only about 2000 were full marathon runners. After much fanfare and awesomeness they fire the starting gun, which was totally anticlimactic because I stood there for another 3 minutes before we started moving, but my time didn’t start until I crossed the starting line thanks to the timing chip strapped to my shoe. There are so many people running it’s hard to run at the pace I need to. As I weave in and around people are chucking clothes all over the place as they warm up. Gloves, hats, sweatshirts, and the plastic bags. Mental note: if I’m ever homeless go to a marathon and pick up free clothes.

I’m feeling great and am ahead of pace. People are peeling off into bushes to pee some more, and everyone is surprisingly accepting of the massive amounts of human excrements being deposited around the areas of greenery along the roadside. I would never want a marathon in my town due to the incredible volume of urine produced by such an event.

Cool people: I pass a guy running with no shirt and barefooted. “What they heck are you doing?!” I think to myself. If I could comfortably wear another set of inserts in these shoes I totally would. Maybe after I run another 20 marathons I’ll try the challenge of barefoot marathon running. I pass a guy with one leg and crutches. Holy crap what a gutsy guy, and by the way, I totally wasted him and left him in my dust. For quite a while I ran next to a Father/Daughter team. She had a shirt that said 1^st Marathon. And he had a shirt that said, 35^th Marathon. Needless to say he was in good shape. I’m sure this 50 year old could totally smoke me, but he is running with his daughter, so I take the opportunity to feel good about myself as I pass them.

I was under my pace for the first 18-20 miles and thinking I had it in the bag. If I could keep it up I’d come in 20 minutes under 4 hours and feeling like a rock star. But every time I checked, my pace was slowing. Remember how my longest run was 22 miles? At mile 23 my quads started cramping like never before, and walking actually made it worse. They kept getting worse all the way through the end. The four hour pace runner didn’t pass me until the 24 mile mark, and I thought if I could just stay on his tail I could meet my goal. But man it seemed like he was going at 6 minute mile pace! Everyone says a Marathon is 2 races, the first 20 and the last 6. Let me testify, this is true. I came in at 4 hours and 2 minutes. The last 6 miles took me 1 hour and 15 minutes, 25 minutes slower than I was running that same distance before the 20 mile mark! Before the race I thought I would be pretty disappointed if I didn’t make my goal, but at mile 23 when the cramps started, I didn’t care a lick anymore.

The last mile seemed the longest, but I managed to smile and look relatively pain free as I turned to see the finish line. The race website said there would be volunteers at the finish to remove our timing chips from our shoes. When I read this I had laughed, wondering why I would need someone to unstrap a piece of Velcro for me. Those blessed people! If I had to bend over to do that immediately after finishing they would be getting a stretcher to remove me from the area. They actually had a platform for you to raise your foot on! These people have obviously put on a race before, they know what they’re doing.

Unfortunately, I missed Annie along the race route, but she was right where I needed her to be, waiting at the finish line. That was pretty fun to see her after all that. I wasn’t feeling too bad anymore. It would have been fun to have Halle there for the finish, but after that I don’t know if I could have dealt with her wanting to be held, and hanging on my leg. When Annie asked how it was, all that came to mind was. “That was hard. Marathons…not for pansies.”

Thanks to Annie for supporting my goal and massaging my feet many times. She picked up a lot of slack because I was too tired, or spent my time running. Thanks for being there, and kicking me out of bed when I didn’t feel like it. I’m so glad I did it. It’s fun to push the limits. Previous to this venture the longest race I’d ever ran was a 5k, and the longest run I’d ever been on was 10 miles. It’s fun to feel like 10 miles is a nice and easy work out, and I don’t start feeling like it gets hard until 18 miles. I’m already looking forward to another one…now that my soreness is gone and I don’t look like an 80 year old man walking around.