Two days have passed since the completion of my 4th
full marathon. I have had a bit of time
to think about all that has happened in the moments leading up to and the moments
during this event. The Sun Trust
National Marathon in Washington D.C. is a delightful affair; however this one
will go down in my memory as one fraught with adversity. I originally had it in my plans to run the
Boston Marathon on April 19, but due to a computer glitch during the first
hours of registration I was rejected and so in a moment of haste and disappointment
I registered for the D.C. marathon. It
seemed like a great choice. One of my
great goals in life is to run a marathon or longer in each of the 50 states as
well as our nation’s capital. Another
plus for this race is the fact that they have a Clydesdale category
for runners over 200lbs with the course record being 3:22:00.
This seemed like shooting fish
in a barrel considering the 3:06:34 marathon I had just completed in Wynne,
Arkansas. So I paid the fee and began my
training. Preparation was going quite
well with a strict regimen of speed work and an ever increasing long
progression run on my Sunday mornings. I
even recall a 21 miler in early February with the last 3 miles being run under
6:30 per mile pace. By late February
training began to waiver as travels with work, winter snowboarding trips and
DIY construction on the basement began to conflict with my running
schedule. The 65-75 miles per week that
had been planned were hijacked and replaced with a 20-30 mile counterfeit regimen.
As the marathon date approached, I felt
my confidence melt and conceded to just go and enjoy the sights and not take it
too seriously. This mind set started to
fill my consciousness even more as the trip to D.C. was underway. We decided to leave in the middle of the
night on Thursday morning (about 12:30a.m.), drive all night and started sightseeing
at Arlington National Cemetery right away.
I felt like a zombie. We walked
around the cemetery, by JFK’s grave and up to the tomb of the Unknown
Soldier. This experience woke me up out
of my stupor for a moment and by the time we got settled into the hotel I
fought sleep until I caved at about 8 p.m. . . . Waking the next day I still felt quite a bit
of exhaustion but did not want to be a party pooper so I trekked out with the
family to take in all of the sights. I
would guess that we walked for at least 10 miles over the course of the
day. I had decided that I would order
room service for 6 am the next morning and aim to salvage what I could for the
race. The next morning I waited around
till about 6:10 and decided that I could not wait for breakfast any longer and
darted out the door in a mad dash for the subway station with an empty stomach. On the train, I noticed another person’s
watch said the time was 6:52. This made
me extremely nervous since the starting pistol was to go off at 7. As the train stopped, I bolted out and pushed
my way through the crowd and up the escalator only to see the start line a
quarter of a mile away with the microphone being handed to the mayor of D.C. to
start the race. I was even more worried
because in my haste I had not stopped for my morning trip to the latrine and
was feeling the urge extremely bad. The
streets were packed with 16,000 runners and absolutely no where to go. I thought maybe the feeling would disappear
as I ran, but it only got worse. I tried
to focus on the race and looked for the 3 hour marathon pace group and tried to
fill in with them. The race was under
way as soon as I stepped into the corral and so I figured I would try to hang
with this assemblage until I gave out.
At mile 3 of the race I spotted a cluster of port-a-potties and diverted
off course and waited in a short line for my turn. I knew I was losing a lot of time but it was
too early in the race to do the unthinkable and just “go” as you “go” and try
to rinse off with water at an aid station. (I was thinking seriously about
it) I stepped out of the potty only to
see the 3:25 pace group going by. I
looked at my Garmin to see that my pace average had dropped to 8:48 per
mile. I threw caution to the wind and
did what many would consider a cardinal sin for being this early into a
marathon, I sprinted. I ran my heart out
from mile 3 until almost mile 6 till I caught up and passed the 3:05 pace
group. I knew that the 3 hour crew was
too far ahead to catch so I thought I would hang with these guys as long as my
body would hold out. I then consumed my
first energy gel only to immediately regurgitate it back up. From this point I decided
to just enjoy the sights and try not to think about the pain and fatigue taking
hold.
The sights were really nice as we passed the Capital
building, Washington Monument, The White House and the Lincoln Memorial. We turned north toward DuPont Circle and were
met with a very large excited crowd of onlookers. It felt nice to see all of the cheering
supporters reaching for high fives and holding up motivational posters. My favorite one said: “Naked cheerleaders
next mile”. I looked carefully for the
next two miles but never saw them. It is
kind of funny because a glance at the Garmin revealed that my average pace had
dropped from 8:48 to 6:50 per mile during that time. Around mile 10 there was a DJ with his giant
sound system and turntables blasting “like a g6” while break dancers performed
along the sidewalks.
The weather was also pretty cold. The last week back home was warm in the mid
70’s but the temps up in D.C. at race time were about 34. I state this because at about mile 14 my left
shoe came untied and I had to stop and try to tie it with my frozen hands. I probably looked like someone with rickets,
trying feebly to get those stupid laces tied.
I finally succeeded but at this point I was too tired to really pay any attention
to my pace. The 3:05 group had gotten a
little out of reach and I just decided to keep on trucking as hard and as long
as possible. Each mile got progressively
harder. Mile 20 hit when I saw a guy
about my size beginning to pass me. Pacing
behind him, I began to study him. He
appeared to have about a 215lb frame. As
soon as that detail hit my brain, something snapped from survival mode into a competitive
death match frame of mind. The reason I
chose this race was because they had a Clydesdale category. I came to Washington because I feel like I am
one of the fastest distance runners over 200 lbs in the country I did not intend
on travelling all this way to be proven wrong.
From then on it was nose to the grindstone; I thanked God for this opportunity
and began to pour my heart into the last 6.2 miles of this marathon. I passed that guy and then several more
people. I began to notice that everyone
else around me appeared to have a pained look on their face. I would study each person and quietly think
the mantra, “I’m tougher than you” as I would pass them. A quote by the late
great Prefontaine comes to mind. He
said: “I don’t show up to a race to see who is faster, I show up to see who has
the most guts.” From mile 20-26 this was
a repetitive thought, and then I began to think about all of the friends and
family that have been encouraging me and praying for me during this event and
continued to move forward….painfully, but forward none the less.
During the final mile I was in more pain than I have ever
experienced in my last 3 marathons. Never
had the temptation of walking ever seemed so enchanting. The finish line could be seen in the distance
and a casual glance over my shoulder was given to entice my lust for an
opportunity to walk. At 0.2 miles from
the finish line and 1 stride away from walking the rest of it, I was awoken
like Lazarus from the dead when I heard the greatest single word ever spoken:
“Daddy”. The reason I think it is the
greatest is not just for the meaning, but because of who spoke it. I glanced up in my slovenly daze to see my
daughter, Laurel, running toward me as fast as I was running toward her. I snapped out of my stupor as emotion from the
moment hit with the force of a crashing wave. All I could do was motion for her and tell her
to run me in. My gasps for air and croaks
of pain turned in to whimpers of tears and sentiment as we headed for the
finish line. I told her, “run me in” as
she replied “I will daddy, I am so proud of you.” We crossed the line and all I could muster
were the words, “thank you, I love you so much”. I then leaned over with most of my weight on
her shoulders and kissed the top of her head as I began to soak her hair with a
mixture of tears and sweat. I was
physically and emotionally exhausted. So
many times Laurel has needed me and looked for me to help her in times of
need. I don’t know if she will ever
realize just how much I needed her right then and there. She then helped me over to a tree where she
told me to lay down and wait while she went to find mommy.
So far this was my 4th marathon. I finished 150th overall and was
the 1st place Clydesdale lowering the course record to 3 hours 9
minutes and 41 seconds. It was definitely
not my best performance and is certainly not anything near what I feel capable
of doing. It is nice to hit adversity
and come out in one piece on the other side.
Problems come, sometimes one right after another but regardless at some
point you can only use those problems as an excuse to a degree. Then there are only two options: Give up and
look for sympathy or shut up and do the best you can with what you’ve got. As the old saying goes, “you can get better
or get bitter.”
This morning I dropped my daughter off at school before
going to the airport to catch a flight to Texas for work. Laurel told me that she felt inspired and
wanted to someday run a half marathon. I
asked her why not a full marathon? “A full marathon is too hard, not everyone
can do the stuff that you do” she said.
My reply is this: “It is not that I do something that has never been
done before. Almost anybody can do
exactly the same as me, maybe better, but Most will never even bother to try.” I only hope that God will grant me the grace
to be an example in more ways than running and that Laurel will be inspired to
walk in those ways as well.
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