After finishing my first… and more than likely last… marathon I thought I would share the experience I had with others. I am currently writing this on the floor because my back has decided to take a couple of days off.
After three months of training, I felt like I was ready… well kind of ready. The thought of running 26.2 miles was never something I was looking forward to. It was free to sign up… that’s why I got into to it. I can never say no to something free. I saved $70!
Waking up at 4am the day of the marathon I was feeling good. Ate a bagel, took a shower, and made sure to go to the bathroom. If you have ever tried to use a porta-potty during a race and have had to endure that smell, you will understand. As I was getting ready it hit me…. today is going to suck. The thought of breaking my own leg so I didn’t have to run entered my mind weeks earlier but I never went through with it and it was too late now… I had to run.
On the drive there I made the mistake of looking at the map of where we were running… 26.2 miles covers a lot of ground. It was about then I was thinking FML (I didn’t use the abbreviation though).
At the start I was feeling good and was ready to go… I wasn’t in time to run with the elite runners so I decided to just start in the middle with the average runners. After my group took off it took all of 30 seconds to get pissed off at idiots who start near the front and then walk. If I wasn’t a Reverend I would have considered pushing them out of my way, but I got through and was doing good. I was following right behind these two girls. I don’t want you to think I was doing this because I enjoyed the view - it was because they were pacers that had the pace I wanted to run. The view however was not bad.
Everything was going good; first 5 miles were pretty easy. My consumption of liquids called for a pit stop around mile six and the line wasn’t too bad so I decided to run over there real quick. On the way over as I am running I see a man with a cane and as I got closer I realized it was my Uncle Bruce. We had a quick handshake and I went on my way. Lucky for him it was before I went to the bathroom because there is no sink to wash your hands. A few hours later I was wishing I stole his cane… I think I would have gotten away with it.
The first tough spot of the race came around mile 8. The first problem was me thinking that I only had eight more miles and I’d be at 16 miles… then I realized after that I have 10 more to go. At this point the cursing in my head started again. The second tough area was that the route went on the highway and the highway was pretty slanted. So for the next 3 miles I was running on slanted pavement. Not enjoyable, but I made it through and was still on my pace. I was just a little behind the Ethiopian guys… but still ahead of the people who walk.
At the halfway point, 13.1 miles, you then get a little excited, but then realize you still have to run 13.1 more miles. This is about when the talking and curse words in your head drown out the music in your iPod. But I was still on pace and doing good. I was actually on my pace for a pretty long time, up until about mile 17. By the time I reached mile 17 I was not in a great mood; I felt like strangling the next person who said “you’re almost done” to me. I had nine miles to go. There is nothing quick or easy about nine miles. Just after mile the mile 17 marker my back started getting tight so I eased up a little. I started running and walking. I wasn’t too worried at first, I was still making good time. After a couple miles of this it started to get worse, I mostly was doing more walking then running. By mile 21 I was physically unable to run and struggled just to walk. I was able to walk about 50 feet then needed to stop to try to loosen my back up.
At this point I was over 21 miles in and you obviously know I finish so you assume I toughed it out and just finished. Technically I did, however, the end of marathon was on Fiesta Island. It’s not nice, it’s all dirt, there is no fiesta, and there is only one way on and one way off. If it was at any other point before mile 19 I would have been able to just walk of the course and quit. Being on Fiesta Island I had to go the same distance to get off anyway. So basically I was shit out of luck.
I am walking, hunched over, because my back is completely out. I remember thinking that if only I stole Uncle Bruce’s cane I would be able to walk so much easier. Every step is sending a sharp pain through my lower back. There were still people walking by saying “you’re looking good” and “you’re doing awesome”… I would have told them something like F.U., or punched them in the face but being they were mostly 13 year old kids I decided against it. Every mile or so they have medical stations so I decided to stop at mile 21 to get some drugs. I would have done any drug on the earth if it would make the pain stop. The medical station had no drugs for me but offered me Vaseline. Vaseline is what runners put between their legs to stop chaffing from happening. I was good on Vaseline… can never be too careful in that area! So I began to just hobble along. At mile 22 I stopped and asked if they could massage it for me. They did, and as I continued on my way I realized right away that it made it hurt worse.
After getting off Fiesta Island I only had .7 miles left and was finally realizing it was just about over. I wasn’t excited or happy. I was pretty disappointed I trained for 3 months for this to happen. I didn’t feel as tired as I was expecting. My legs were sore but I think I didn’t notice it because the excruciating pain in my back. At this point there were still people saying “looking good”… if I wasn’t worried that my Grandmother might be in the crowd and see me… I would have put a different finger up instead of my thumb.
After crossing the finish line, I was presented with my medal… it was a gold medal. Me and Usane Bolt have more in common now. Luckily I didn’t have a gun because at this point I would have shot my foot to take away from the pain I was feeling. I am definitely happy to report there was no chaffing going on in my above average man region. That was a big concern of mine going into the race. I finished - I guess that’s all the matters; a marathon is definitely a big deal. I should be back to normal sometime soon and until then will eat ice cream daily for at least a month because I ran 26.2 miles and as far as excuses go, that’s a pretty good one.
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