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Some time in late August I began training for the Motorola Marathon, to be held
Feb 18, 2001. At the time I could only run about two and a half miles non stop.
What a difference six months can make.
Last week I completed the Motorola Marathon in 5 hours 21 minutes.
I woke up at 5:30 in the morning. Maybe "woke up" is the wrong expression to
use when I was really rolling around in my bed most of the night. But the
first of the three (or 4) alarms that I set went off at 5:30. I was meeting
Jen (my running partner) at a Taco Cabana near the starting line at 6:30. No,
the plan was not to break for tacos and then run 26.2 miles. Italian food is
the ethnic food of the runner.
Claire (mi novia, gotta practice that Spanish) came by at 6:00 and we left my
apartment at 6:10. The weather reports said it was supposed to be freezing,
but somehow it didn't feel quite that cold. Despite that I wore my running
pants, running jacket, gloves, and headband. Claire dropped me at Taco Cabana
and I met up with Jen. Her parents were there and snapped a photo of the two
of us before we got started.
Jen and I lined up with about 8,000 other people near what we thought was the
starting line. Upon closer inspection, we realized that it was the line for
the portable toilets. So we left them and found the real starting line (which
we will find out later really was not much unlike the line for the portable
toilets). We saw many people walking around in trash bags. I wasn't sure what
the symbolism was, but I was happy to see so many performance artists around.
There were also pace groups around the crowd. A person in the middle of each
pace group was holding a sign up with their expected finishing time. My first
choice was the pace group whose sign showed "Next year some time" but Jen and I
decided to run between the 4:30 and 4:45 groups.
The horn went off and then we spent about three and a half minutes trying to
get to the starting line. The starts of the larger races are really not unlike
driving cattle through a pasture gate. The only thing missing was cowboys on
horseback shouting at us to "Get along, little doggies!"
Just past the starting line male runners were breaking off to the left and
right, relieving thirsty trees and bushes, who I am sure were very grateful. I
found the whole thing very amusing. "Keep your eyes on the road, Jen." There
were several interesting people whom we saw just past the starting gate. Old
ladies, old men, a guy pushing three kids in a stroller (I checked, there were
three living and breathing, although possibly sedated, children in the
stroller). I also noticed some guy running in "Joe Boxer" running shorts (more
on him at Mile 22).
I don't really remember much of the first 10 miles. I remember I watched the
sun rise as we were running East. I can remember the frost on the roofs of the
houses as we ran through neighborhoods. Other than that it was mostly just one
foot in front of the other in front of the other in front of the other... well,
you get the idea. Apparently the most vivid marathon memories tend to involve
either pain, exhaustion, or both to varying degrees. For this reason, I
remember that my right knee began to hurt around mile 8.
Mile 12 was near campus, actually very near where I used to live last year.
Tim (Riedel, not ME!) and Karthic (last year's Marathon Team co-captains) were
out to cheer us on. I got my high-fives and Jen and I kept up our pace.
We were doing about 10:15 mins/mile up to about mile 13. By the time I got to
mile 14 I had to stop to stretch my knee out. The pain was getting worse, not
better. I picked up the pace and caught up to Jen, but the damage had been
done. I had already stopped once (this is where the ominous music comes in).
Jen and I stopped to walk about 100 meters (that's about 100 yards). And then
we started walking at every water stop. But we were still managing to keep our
times down below 12 minutes per mile.
At mile 16 Jen asked how I was doing. "Dying." True, this is a liberal
interpretation of the word "Dying" but Jen was quick to agree that she felt the
same. So we started to "conserve our energy" which was not unlike rolling
blackouts in California. Certain sections of the race found us walking.
Around mile 18 the 4:45 pace group passed us. But I was filled with a sense of
peace that I knew I was going to finish the race.
Mile 21 was where I told my parents and Claire to cheer me on. And looking
back on my splits, mile 20 was 15:06, mile 21 12:42, mile 22 19:25. So they
had some net positive effect, it's safe to say.
At mile 22 I could hear Evil (the announcer) calling out names. My knee was
hurting so much now that I could not run on it any more. I told Jen as much
and sent her off ahead of me and I took a much needed potty break.
About a half mile into mile 22 I came across the guy wearing the "Joe Boxer"
running shorts. He was walking now as well, so we struck up a conversation.
Because he was running another marathon the following weekend, he had decided
to "take it easy" and walk the last 7 miles. I was happy to have someome to
talk to for the next hour or so.
Tim and Karthic had a table set up near mile 23 and were a welcome site.
I skipped the beer stop. Eric (Joe Boxer guy) had three of them as someone
shouted at him, "Hey buddy, two per customer!"
I got into Zilker Park for the last mile loop. I had dreams of running it
(theme song to Chariots of Fire starts here), but my knee would have none of it
(theme music abruptly stops). So I walked ALL the way around. At the very end
I decided to kick. I heard the announcer call my name, crossed the finish
line, and then promply wanted to vomit on my shoes.
That feeling passed and soon I was wrapped up in foil like a 6' hotdog in the
ballpark. I was eager to find my family or girlfriend and go dispense hugs,
but finding neither (and not feeling particularly close to any of the strangers
around me) I decided to lay down in the grass. After much searching Claire
managed to find me and led me to Mom & Dad. They were sitting in the bleachers
hoping to watch me finish. D'oh!
Pictures were taken and I promply wanted to get home and shower.
The next day revealed a great sunburn on my forehead and around my neck. I
decided to wear my marathon finishing T-shirt as an explanation. As I limped
across campus I had a smile that hid my knee pain. I just kept thinking to
myself, "I ran a marathon!"
After a monday night in which I could barely bend my knee, a Tuesday doctor's
visit revealed acute tendonitis. This is suuposed to pass soon so that next
year I will be able to run Motorola Marathon 2002.
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