“What am I thinking!” I thought to myself after my alarm went off at 4.20 am. ” Am I really doing this?” I could hardly believe that I was about to sneak into a marathon. I got out of bed and glanced at the thermometer outside my window, it read 30 degrees. “Of course.” I sifted through the carefully selected pile of clothes (read: clean) I had laid out the night before and put them on while I berated myself for actually going through with this.
My roommate (dad) was now up too, grumpier than me. He had agreed to give me a ride the night before when I told him my plans to run in this marathon. I knew he thought I was bluffing and would never pull myself out of bed that early. But here I was eating a piece of pie as evidence that this was not a hoax. Yes I ate a piece of pie for breakfast. It was delicious, and I would do it again. So we drove to the hotel where I would be hitching a ride with one of the hundreds of big yellow school buses now taking over downtown Sacramento like a military convoy. Within a few blocks of the drop off spot I saw the scores of runners milling around sipping lattes watching their breath fill the air.
“Here’s fine.” I said.
“Good luck, something something.” He said as I was closing the door. The cold hit me hard again. Still completely dark with no sign of light coming I went inside the hotel where I had heard there was a buffet set up. No such luck, just more runners in their fancy gear. I was dressed quite oppositely. My kit was as follows: Shoes: worn Salomon Trail Runners with torn laces on my left foot that I had knots in to hold together, laced through only half of the eyes. Then my black adidas warm up pants with holes in the knees from rugby on the black top years ago. Then another a synthetic rusself shirt from Ross and finally to keep the warmth in I had my trusty Obama beanie. So there I was, bumming a bagel in the food line, while all these runners secretly wondered if I was the bum they saw before there eyes or if I was in fact some sort of sleeper that would be finishing sub 2hr 30 minutes.
After convincing the barista that I usually bring my wallet to marathons she gave me a bagel on the house. (Apparently the pie wasn’t enough). With delicious bagel in one hand and water in the other I made my way to a vacant bus and found myself a seat.
On the bus I met Abel who has been running for only a year and a half and is really getting into it. After he asked how long I had been training and I had told him, he just told me to take it easy and listen to my body. Sound advice for sure. The bus ride ended up being around 40 minutes, most of which was on the freeway. This made me a bit uneasy knowing that we had left from the finish line. Still completely dark outside we came into view of the folsom dam. We were in a line of school buses as far as the eye could see. Just then it came to a stop and somebody in a fluorescent vest started talking about lord knows what. I couldnt stop thinkg about how I felt like I was on a prison bus… As soon as the speaker got off I did too. As I was leaving I heard Abel say “I’ll see you at the finish line Luke!”
“Yeah right,” I thought. “We’ll see.”
Blah blah blah. It was cold, so I stood by a generator for one of those huge portable lights waiting for the race to start. Despite the noxic fumes we were all getting, it was worth it for the warmth.
Finally the first rays of light came up through the horizon which meant the race was starting in 5 minutes. ish. I made my way through the sea of 8,000 runners to find the 4:30 pace group. Once I got there I started talking to some people, asking questions like: “How do you run a marathon…” and other thought provoking questions as such. Met two people, introduced my self as Luke, then realized that the name on my bib clearly said Andre, so I crossed my arms over my chest and continued to heed their advice.
Boom. The cannon shot, maybe it was a cap gun. Anyways the race had now started. But something was wrong. Nobody was moving. Until a minute later, then we started walking. Finally after 5 minutes I was to the starting line and just breaking into a jogging pace.
As I started to think about the repurcussions of my actions (actualy running this stupid thing) I was distracted by some guys talking to a woman about how he has gone through three ipods in the last 6 months. After she inquired “why,” he gave her his theory about, because he sweat so profusely, he thinks the sweat drips down his headphone wire and into the headphone jack, shorting out the ipod. “That’s it.” I thought to myself. “I gotta see who this sweaty guy is.” I turned my head and realized I knew him. “Jon?!” I yelled across three people. He turned and screamed with unbridled enthusiasm and exclaimed “Luke, you didn’t tell me you were going to be running in this race!” I told him it was a last minute decision and soon enough he was gone to keep up with his relay time.
So now I was in the midst of this race. About 4 miles in and some little girl yells
“Doin great. Almost halfway there!” The nerve of her. And her mom. Somebody needs to teach that kid some math. I was furious. But my rage cooled and I ate the first of what would be 9 Gu packets. They’re delicious.
Well, the first half of the race was great. I was running with the 4hr 30 min pace team and it was going great. I even ran ahead at one point so I could run into the woods to take a piss and still come back to meet up with them.
Then after the half marathon things started getting difficult. My body began to wonder what the big idea was. Not happy. Around mile 16 my quads got very tight. It got to the point where every couple of minutes I would have to do some buttkickers because my stride was shortening significantly.
Then my hamstrings decided to seize up to, so at one point I did a couple high kicks, but to no avail. I knew I would just have to get through it. I was now on the end of Mile 17 looking for my volunteer friend, Eric, from the day before. He told me he would be there wearing shorts, and sure enough he was there calling out split times. I came up to him and shook is hand. He was miserably cold. “I wish I was wearing pants.” I laughed and wondered why somebody would be make such a decision… Then I remembered what I was doing.
Well now, somehow, I had made it to mile 20. And that is when the pain in my feet showed up. This was no, little pain, this was every step hurts and me wondering why am I doing this. But then I would think to myself: “Only 6 miles to go. I can piss six miles.” And it worked. I hobbled on.
By mile 22 I was still moving, but much slower than before. Everything south of the border hurt. My stride was reduced to barely 2 feet if that. Other runners seemed to be taking me at alarming speeds. At one point some huge speed walker came up alongside me. This is where I drew the line. Here I was hobbling along, barely moving, next to this smug a-hole walking the way speed walkers do. Uh-uh. Not gonna happen. So I did some butt kickers and picked up my pace. I couldnt hold that speed very long, but at least I left that speed walker behind.
Through all this drama I found myself at mile 25. Only 1 mile to go! I couldn’t beleive it. I could barely move, but I was almost there. By this point I was in so much pain I resorted to counting to ten over and over. I did this until the finish line came into sight 200 yards away. And just then, who shows up at my side but Abel and his sister. I couldn’t beleive it.
Abel just looked at me with a smile and said: ” I told you I’d see you here.” That was awesome. The three of us crossed the line together, and it was great. The big clock overhead had just turned to 5 hours. I was happy.
I was so happy to be done running. I took my finishers medal and my space blanket and went straight for the buffet line. Ate everything I could. Then I got miserably cold because it was still on 40 degress outside. I was in more pain/discomfort at this point then during the race. Somebody saw me struggling to move and pointed me in the direction of the medical tent. when I finally made my way over there it was amazing. Heated and beds where trainers would stretch you out. I could have stayed there for hours… If I hadn’t gotten kicked out by the other waiting finishers. As soon as I left I felt terrible again, but not as terrible.
Anyways I called for a ride and waited on a street corner with my space blanket wrapped around me. In the meantime a woman came up on crutches with her daughter. She told me she had qualified for the Boston Marathon but had suffered stress fractures in her feet as a consequence. She looked worse off than me. I was impressed.
Anyways that’ s about how the marathon without training went. Would I do it again?
