In 2007-8 my sister-in-law, Sheila (pictured above), began running marathons. This had an effect on the family as a whole and for some of us reawakened long sought for dreams and goals. This past Sunday, February 20th I finished my second marathon here in Austin, the LiveStrong Austin Marathon.
Now some of you may have already read my wife's very moving and excellently written account of the day. If so, you'll recall at the end of it she promised more details if only you inquired of me. Some of you have, so the following is for you. Before I begin I would like to say two things regarding my experience with the marathon.First of all, marathons are like a sticky chewy candy, saltwater taffy maybe. They are extremely enjoyable and yet difficult as you're working through to finish them. Accordingly, my reason for participating in marathon number two was that I felt I had not done my best during, and in preparation for marathon number one. This, due to work requirements and illnesses, etc., etc., a.k.a. life. So, this past year I trained better and made sure my schedule was as free as possible the week prior to the marathon.
Secondly, it seems no matter how well you prepare there will always be that something, either within or beyond your scope of control that will be against you, possibly the entire way. Grasping these two things, I believe, is the beginning of learning to marathon.
So, the day before has finally arrived. My beloved brother and sister-in-law have come, we have dinner, relaxing family fun with the kids and then off to bed.3:47 AM: I wake up before the alarm goes off. I am feeling good. It's almost as if I can feel electricity surging through my muscles and the muscles are frantically whispering, "Let's go. Let's go. Let's go!"
4:15 AM: Eat breakfast while reading my Bible portion for the day (three chapters) and devotional. Super calming to enjoy God's word before the run.
6:25 AM: We are finally parked and walking toward the start line at the Capital.
6:35 AM: We have successfully navigated through the throngs toward the seven and a half minute pace position. Local DJ's voices are heard over the music blasting from the concert speakers all around. Time to take in some nutrition and stretch out some more.
6:50 AM: Rory and Sheila wish me well and say they will see me at mile two. Before they leave Sheila looks at me and says, "Now remember, the honor of the family rests on you." No pressure, I got this.
6:55 AM: The national anthem is sang rather well by some lady.
7:00 AM: Gun is fired and we're are funneled up to and across the start line. It takes about four minutes from the gun to actually get across the start line. Tick tock. Tick tock. The clock is ticking and I'm bobbing and weaving, sometimes even jumping up and around someone who probably should have placed themselves a little further back in the queue. It's kind of fun jockeying for position the first mile and a half or so. However, you use (lose) a lot of energy at the beginning and have to make sure you slow your pace and calm yourself after you clear the fray.
At this point please forgive me but I must change the marking of time to miles as it is the way I remember things.
Mile 1: It is hotter than I expected and I don't do well with heat in general. I am already sweating like I was four or five miles into the run and considering when I should lose a shirt. I have a compression on in under a tech shirt. The heat and humidity is more than what I am used to and much worse than us locals have been training in all winter.
Mile 2: Rory and Sheila are on the right side of the road yelling encouraging words. As I go by I am so happy to see them and about fifty yards away flash what might be considered to my dear Ultimate Aggies a "Hook'em Horns". It really was a "Rock on!" that came from the excitement of the moment. I don't think they saw it as nothing was later said. Other than the weather I am feeling pretty good. I have felt more than comfortable in the eight to eight and a half minute pace and thinking I will have no problems handling it for the duration. However, it's my goal to run nine minute miles so I will be backing off. I just wanted to get out of the crowd at the start.
Mile 3: Hit my first water stop. Just a sip is all I take still feeling a little full from the Gatorade Primer I had before the start.
Mile 4ish: I spot and am encouraged by Vanessa and Tim (two of our dear friends) in one spot at Congress and Oltorf. Then, in another close by spot on the opposite side of the road Michelle and her boys (other dear friends).
Running up Congress Avenue is kind of strange, or maybe it's just the thoughts that I am having at this point. The thing that is most striking about this part of the course is the numerous amount of water valve covers that are missing in the roadway. Apparently the folks who prepare the race route mark these "holes", spray-painting them with an orange circle to call your attention to them. I find it strange that the city doesn't just go out and replace them before the race. Or, any other time of year for that matter.
Mile 5: After running uphill most of the Congress Avenue leg I begin to feel the effort that I have exerted.
Mile 6: Now we're on S. First St. heading back into downtown and I am drenched with sweat. So while running, I wiggle out of my tech shirt and hang it off of my free-with-marathon registration SPIbelt. I ensure my bib is still showing.Mile 7-9: I really like this part of the course as we are going downhill and you finally feel like your settling in to your run. At almost mile nine I see my family along with Rory and Sheila. I stop only long enough to give them my watch which for some reason was bothering me. I didn't kiss my wife or the kids. Shortly this begins to gnaw at me and I resolve that I will make sure to do so next time I see them. After all, I wasn't doing this to break records. I just wanted to hit my goal of four hours or less.
Mile 10: First real hill. It's going to be the old go up go down until mile 13.5. Feet are soaked and the super duper moisture-wicking socks are not doing the trick for me today. It is just too hot. Oh well, at least the LiveStrong Foundation made some money from my purchase. Next stop I will ask my support team for my back up pair.
Mile 11: We break from the half-marathoners and for me this is when the marathon begins. That is not a dig on the folks who do half. It is simply a very real acknowledgement that those folks are almost done and you are going to have to begin to work your hardest. Oh the hills.
Mile 12: Killer hill, I am cycling between walking and running. Rory spots me while I am adjusting my tunes and starts yelling, "Come on. This is no time to make a phone call. Come on, run." I make my request for the socks but my beloved tells me the backpack is in the car. She says she will have them for me next stop. I kiss wife and kids and take off. I don't feel great at this point and am not sure why. I am hot, that's for sure. However, I have been taking what I feel is a good amount of my GU chomps and hydrating so I should be fine. But still, I am having a harder time than what I should be.
Mile 13-14: Still cycling between running and walking and I almost feel like I could get back to normal but my breathing is just off. I have to lose the other shirt it is just too hot.
Mile 16: My family/support crew is awesome. I think they are all beginning to see things aren't what they should be with me. I am so tired. I change my socks and head out. Rory accompanies me about a hundred yards. He's a really good motivator with all his jokes, anecdotes, etc. I don't think he will ever know how much I appreciate him.
Mile 17: I am starting to cramp and have to stop and stretch legs. This, to some extent, means that my body is not getting the nutrition it needs and I am concerned. After one of the times that I stopped to stretch, I get dizzy as I stand back up. Something is wrong and I haven't been in this condition or felt like this before.
Mile 18.5: I stop at the first aid stand for some acetaminophen for the cramping and pain. I also let them know that I have been feeling a little dizzy and they ask me to sit and rest for a moment. After about three minutes I am back on my way but feeling somewhat strange and drained. I hate this feeling.
Mile 19: I call Stephanie. I am out of breath, hot and I just don't feel right. I have now been fighting this feeling for at least the last five miles. I tell her, "I'm done." She tells Rory and he and the kids walk over from where they were about a hundred yards away. He asks me what is wrong and I tell him I don't know but I can't go on. So he says, "Let's just walk". I respond, "I can't, I don't know what's wrong but I can't go on." He says, "Why not?" At that point, the overwhelming sensation came and I told him, "I can't because I am going to throw up."
And with that, the privacy fence I was leaning against became a hiding place to cover me as I retched violently. Not only so, into a man's yard as he walked up onto his porch and into his house. Which having spotted him I inquired weakly, "Is this your house?" He responded, "Yes." Which while still doubled over prompted me to reply weakly and embarrassed, "I am very sorry." He graciously replied, "Don't worry about it man." All the while I was emptying the contents of my stomach, Rory, the airline pilot, the cut-up, my brother-in-law of almost sixteen years is shielding me from the glances of those passing by while patting my back. I won't ever forget the care of that moment. Thanks bro, you are awesome.
When a person vomits they are instantly dehydrated. One of the most crucial elements to successful marathoning is proper hydration and nutrition. Being conscious of these things while lying on the cool, shaded sidewalk, shaking from the shock of emptying my stomach I feared I was fully done in. My wife and Rory asked me if I wanted anything and took off after I told them what I thought might help. Addressing my sister-in-law, our resident expert marathoner, and support team lead I ask, "Any advice?" Her measured cool response, "If you have anything left in you, you should finish. Even if you have to walk."
According to my assessment I had absolutely nothing left in me. I was thoroughly exhausted, discouraged and wanted to climb into the car and go home. However, within a few minutes Stephanie and Rory returned with a large mineral water. I took a big pull on it and sat there as it worked itself through my system. I took another smaller drink and had two bites of a banana I had for after the run. At this point I really didn't think there would be an "after the run" time. In the meantime my family patiently waited for me to come to some conclusion as to what I was going to do next. We just sat and talked and encourage the other runners. It was strange for me to be sitting there shouting to others to keep going when I was sitting doing nothing.
After about twenty-five minutes had passed from the time I called my wife to say, "I am done", I stood up. It would be a lie to say I felt good, decent or anywhere in the vicinity of normal. I felt horrible and hot both inside and out physically and psychologically. I still wanted to go home but I started walking down the sidewalk. Rory came along side and encouraged me to move onto the course, the roadway. It was then I became fully aware that I was moving forward, on the course. Looking back on it now I don't remember making a decision to go for it or anything like that. I just got up and started walking. Stephanie asked me when they should meet me again and I said "21" and I was off, walking, with only 7.2 miles to go. At that moment I hated marathons but was more upset with myself for allowing this to happen.
The truth of the matter was that I knew that my body was not altogether tolerant of the GU type nutritional supplements. However, I thought it was for only a short time and I could cut back GU stuffs and hydrate regularly. S-T-U-P-I-D! Even during training I told Stephanie of my body's intolerance and my need for specific nutrition during the run. I got lazy and was looking for convenience. Big mistake.
Either way, soon after I passed mile twenty there were neighborhood party folks offering orange slices. I took two and continued on. They were too sweet and my stomach didn't want sweet.
A little later a gentleman on the roadside accompanied by his children offered yet more orange and I stopped and asked if he had ice. He said yes and I helped myself to two cubes. One I popped into my mouth and the other I dropped into a cup of water from the water station a few steps away. This was what my body was craving and missing and I could not wait to get more.
At this point the course is winding through central Austin neighborhoods and the folks on this part of the course are phenomenal. They are so encouraging and accommodating. Case in point, another party on the roadside just before mile twenty-one. They have their music, a couple of picnic table with tasty looking stuffs upon them along with snacks for the runners. I ask if they happen to have any ice. "Oh yeah!" is the response. I asked for a couple of cubes and the man says, "Here dude, let me get you a cup." He grabs a turquoise colored plastic party cup. Opening the ice chest, he shoves the cup in, fills the cup and hands it to me saying, "There you go man." I thank him and all there and tell them how I really feel. They are all great. For me this is the best part of the marathon experience in Austin, going through the neighborhoods with all the super supportive folks.
About a hundred yards away at mile 23 my dear family is waiting to greet me. Stephanie hugs me and asks me how I am and if I want to continue. I tell her I'm feeling okay and think I can go on. Hugs and kisses are exchanged and I'm off.
In this mental state, I am having to find ways of coping with my discouragement. As I am eating the ice as it is also melting in the beautiful turquoise colored cup and becomes sweet ice-cold water, my mind begins to wander. I remember the movie "Castaway" with Tom Hanks. More specifically, this is the way I feel. Alone, and trying to find ways to make it through this experience. Wilson, the volleyball comes to mind. If you haven't seen the movie, sorry you won't know what I am talking about. Either way, Wilson becomes the friend of the character. They talk, laugh, argue, do what friends do. However, Wilson is a volleyball. That being said, I am drinking and eating ice from this turquoise cup. This is helping me make it through my isolated situation. This cup is my Wilson. Yet it is turquoise. Therefore I name this cup Turk and we begin our trek together.
At mile 25 watering station Turk is pressed into service once again and valiantly receives and bears for his friend another full burden of ice. What a guy. Continuing along, I pass, yes pass, and briefly visit with a young graphic designer, Jimmy, from Houston who is still continuing on. He is painfully pushing through stride altering cramping in both legs. I hope he took the wisdom passed on to me from Sheila, the awesome, regarding the ice bath. If he did I am sure he was better the next day.
Mile 26, almost there and oddly feeling pretty good. Trying to run up this hill on the east side of the Capitol is not working for me though. I'm considering getting rid of Turk, but realize he's brought me this far he deserves better. Rounding the corner at San Jacinto onto 11th I'm thinking, "It's downhill from here." I take my last drink from Turk, empty his contents onto the pavement and break into a measured sprint. It feels great and I can't go fast enough but I have to be careful because I am going downhill.
I round the corner onto Congress heading for the finish about a hundred and fifty yards away. I hope to see my family but do not. Turn it on, turn it on. I am in a full sprint with Turk in hand. I don't see anything except the finish. It's beautiful. I don't hear the music blaring or the commentator yelling over the music blaring. I am just running. I love it. Crossing the finish line and walking toward the refreshment area, I offer up thanks to the One who gives life to the dead and calls the things not being as being.
We take some pictures, go back to the car and say goodbye to Rory and Sheila. I try to apologize for taking so long to finish the run further delaying their departure, but they just encourage me. I think they may be starting to like me. We get home, my beloved runs the cold water only bath and dumps in the bag of ice. I wash Turk and place him on the shelf of honor in the china cabinet. I go to the bedroom. Here I put on my stocking cap, a long-sleeved pullover, a sweatshirt, winter gloves and place my lower body into the tub. The ice water covers my legs as I sit down. The pain and fatigue begin to dissolve only to be replaced by the numbing ache of the cold. Yes, it's cold, but it's really not that bad. Plus, tomorrow I will be walking and not hobbling. By the end of the week, I'll get in a three-miler which at this point will seem about as difficult as walking from the kitchen table to the sofa.
