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It hurt.
I can hardly walk.
It was the worst experience
and it was the best.
It was my first marathon, and I look forward to doing more.
Waiting
The wake-up call rang promptly at 3:50 a.m. At first I couldnt remember where I was3:50 is just plain earlybut soon I remembered that today was the race day. I took my morning shower and began the preparation process: liberally applying sunscreen and BodyGlide anywhere they might help; adding my Team In Training temporary tattoo on my shoulder; filling my FuelBelt with Gatorade, sour gummy treats, an energy bar, Tylenol 8-hour, my drivers license and some spare cash; and getting dressed in my race-day gear including my Team in Training singlet with my newly attached racing number, 18275.
After a brief visit with the mentors, captains, and coaches in the hotel lobby, we boarded the shuttle and headed to Balboa Park to the start of the race. On the ride over I visited with Tim & Leslie, two fellow runners in the mentor group with me. We shared our hopes for the day, our highlights of the training seasons, and our well-wishes. Upon exiting the shuttle, we said goodbye (for now). I mention this simply because it is a bit of a surreal moment. I felt it twice that day: first with Tim & Leslie and a bit later when I parted from Gaby, Hillary, and Mike, fellow teammates who I found in the sea of people at the park & stretched with
for a few moments. It is at that momentsaying goodbyewhen the marathon really seemed real. Perhaps for others, it happened at different points, but this was my moment, stepping away and taking on the challenge.
Of course, before that challenge could take place, I had to conquer one last battle, controlling the bladder. I have never had to pee that badly in my entire life. This is no exaggeration (and I am sorry for all of those who thought you wouldnt read such details in this journal). I followed the advice of the Coaches for the most part, getting in line for the outhouse as soon as I finished using it, but there was one 4 minute gap while I dropped my post-race bag in the UPS truck and picked up an extra cup of Gatorade. Everywhere you looked there was a line of at least 50 people waiting to use the outhouse. It was tortuous, but funny at the same time (you just didnt want to laugh, or move, or even think about anything related to water).
The Start
As I exited the outhouse I saw the start of the race. I joined in, still several hundred yards from the starting line, and then stepped out before I crossed it, thus preventing a poorer chip score. I returned to the restroom one more time (my 5th visit that morning) actually helping me out in those first few miles (the lines before those first few outhouses and the number of people in the bushes was a bit hilarious).
I crossed the starting line a little over 14 minutes past the official start of the race. Most people have about a 5-10 minute delay due to the sheer number of people participating. I have to admit that the first two miles, although free from any bathroom stress, were still a bit difficult; I was alone. Several weeks ago, I found that if I walked the first 2-3 miles of a run, my legs have a chance to warm up, I get a better stretch, and my injuries are prevented. This is great except that the huge mass of people were about a ½ mile ahead of me which meant that for the first bit they were out of my view. Occasionally, I would pass one or two people, but it was still tough to keep my head in the race and not run too early. Finally, at the mile two marker I began to run.
The Groove?
It felt great to take those first few strides. In fact, my first 2 running miles were wonderful. I had a great pace, felt comfortable, and enjoyed my general surroundings. At about mile 5 or 6 I began to experience what I would like to call Injuries: Greatest Hits. For at least a few strides I relieved each one of my injuries of the season: my shins began to hurt, my knees began to hurt, the arches in my foot began to hurt. Ironically, my knee pain that Ive had for the past three weeks was the least present pain of the day. The nice part about Injuries: Greatest Hits is every one of the injuries disappeared (at least for a little while). I felt like I was conquering some of the mental ghosts that had plagued me throughout the season.
I began to listen to the music and enjoy the day. Things were wonderful for the first 13.1 miles which I ran in 2:51:09 (keep in mind that two of those miles I walked).
The Wall
From the start of the training season, I had people mention The Wall and how Team In Training would help you get past it. Beginning at just past mile 13, I started to wonder if I was feeling the wall. I wasnt, not yet at least. The miles did start to feel a bit longer and my time gradually began to slow, not by too much, but by a few seconds here or there. If I had fewer injuries during the season, I probably could have done better at this point, but I had those injuries and this was my race.
I continued running. It was tough now, but still doable. The sun came out for a while and made it extremely hot. Luckily I was near a water station and dumped it over me. A few minutes later the sun disappeared again. I was starting to hurt more and the pain wasnt disappearing as easily as it had before, but I knew I had a purpose to be there and continued to run.
At around mile 17 or 18 I reached a hill and actually ran to the top of it. It did feel like a triumph, but after a short run down it I reached a flat area and I hit the wall.
Quite simply, it hurt. It hurt to run and it hurt to walk. It hurt to stretch and it hurt to stand. It hurt to sit down. It just hurt. For about two and a half miles, I fought the wall. I ran with heavy breaths normally reserved for those guys bench pressing at the gym. I would like to say it looked like a glamorous moment, but truth be told, people passed my gallant run by simply speed-walking. I didnt shed a tear, but I did feel like crying. I didnt want to fail, but for the first time that day it seemed like I could.
This is the wall. Its when the mental and physical aspect of your run are used up and all that remains is your heart. This happens to almost everyone who runs a marathon. For some it happens during the last mile, for others it happens just past the starting line. For me, it occurred at mile 21. At that point I knew I wanted to finish, I just had to figure out how.
Angels
From the very start of the race I had been touched by an overwhelming sense of support.
Thousands of people line the side of the course. In certain patches, there are hardly any people and those were where Injuries: Greatest Hits afflicted me, but then I would come across crowds of people cheering. They didnt know me personally, but many read the name written across my singlet and wished me well.
Volunteers at water stops sacrificed their own sleep to hand out water and sweep up the discarded cups covering the street. Some people brought bags of pretzels and handed them out to participants along the course. Employees from Pat & Oscars distributed the best tasting breadstick Ive ever had at mile 10.
Team in Training coaches from cities across the U.S. would check in on me and make sure I was doing okay. One coach from New York with a Jamaican accent seemed to magically appear for the first ten miles. He would find a high perch and shout out Youre doing it. Look at you. Youre going to make it. Then, he would get down and run what had to be a five-minute mile to the next spot and cheer the participants on again. He did this over and over again.
Cheerleaders from local high schools lined the course, some opting for a traditional school cheer, but others choosing to just say Go Patrick! We believe in you. They did this for several hours on the weekend before many of them have to take finals.
And then there were those particular angels that helped me finish. On my wrist I wore the names friends & family affected by Leukemia & Lymphoma and other cancers. Many of you submitted names throughout the season, and although my sweat gradually began to permanent marker names fade away, I still knew what each of the smudge marks represented. I looked at the racing jerseys of the people in front of me and read the names of their honorees. I thought about the battles against cancer each one of these people fought and I started to dig deeper. Then, just past mile 21, when the wall began to dominant, I saw a woman just to my right. She obviously recently endured a chemo treatment. I looked at her, and she simply said, Keep focused, Patrick, you can do it.
I knew if I made it to the 22 mile marker I would run into my local Team In Training mentors. I had come across them earlier that day at around the 12 mile marker, the one part of the course where the route practically overlaps. It hurt too much to run, but I decided to keep on walking. It still hurt and I began to limp, but I knew I had to do it. Just before the 22 mile marker, Nimmi, a mentor passed by me Andrea, one of the honorees. Nimmi quickly ran back to check on me. I knew I would run into another mentor and to stay with Andrea. She ran ahead and notified Heilda, an honoree captain, and Jeanine, one of the PR Captains before rejoining with Andrea. For the next mile Heilda & Jeanine walked with me, cracking jokes, and checking in on me. Just before mile 23, we connected with Erin, the run captain who helped me run my two best miles in the twenty-mile run a few weeks ago. The four of us walked for about a ½ mile together. Coach Anne-Marie spotted us as she ran back to check on others and remarked how I had to be doing fine with all the women around me. Soon, Heilda & Jeanine turned back to help other team members.
Erin joined me from mile about mile 23 to the end. It was one of several trips she made that day. This is one of the amazing things about Team In Training; a group of individuals commit to helping people finish. They do not compete in the marathon, but they still log anywhere from 12-26 miles on their legs that day running back and forth. They help anyone from one of the elite runners on the team who is struggling and trying to hit his/her PR time to the beginner runner like myself. They help everyone get over that wall. Erin was able to push me just hard enough. She helped me pick up my pace just slightly, but was also patient as more muscles ache and I needed to stretch them. She called my two mentors, John & Karen, and let them know I was on my way.
At mile 25 I saw John & Karen. It was the third time I saw them that day. They were waiting for me in the lobby when I first appeared at 4:30am in the morning. They were there at mile 12 to run with me for a ¼ mile and provide encouragement. They did all of this on Karens birthday. In all of my nervousness and pain, I neglected to wish her a happy birthday during the race. I finally did later that evening, and she simply said, Im glad I could spend the day helping you out.
The unending kindness of the angels along the course allowed me to continue going. They helped make the early pain in the race disappear and when the pain became overwhelming, they filled my heart with such a joyful strength letting me know they wouldnt let me fail.
The Finish
I wanted to run in from mile 25. I started to run, but after about a ¼ mile my heart rate was about 172 bpmtoo highand my legs began to hurt too much. With reluctance, I stopped. Erin told me it would be okay, that we would take one more break and take it in. John told me it was about a ½ mile to the finish line once I entered the Marine Base in San Diego. I stretched one final time and decided I would run itno matter what.
Erin, John, Karen, and I began the run into the military base. Karen told me to lead the way. It should be noted that security is strangely tough in the base. I know one or more of my running companions were stopped behind me and searched by a Marine with a machine gun. A few minutes later the three of them were around me again and national security was still in tact.
My legs hurt and my heart rate was getting high, but I wanted to see that finish line. Unfortunately, the design of this last ½ mile is a bit tortuous as the route runs through many twists and turns and through some different building courtyards. I couldnt actually see the finish line until it was about 150 yards away.
During the Pasta Party the night before, John Bingham, a columnist for Runners World, shared insight into the marathon experience. At the close of the evening he talked about the moment. It is the antithesis of the wall; it is the realization that you will complete the marathon. I experienced just after making the second turn in the Marine Base. I was overcome by a sense of happiness and I began to cry. It was unlike any emotion Ive ever felt before. After being pushed to the brink and doubting my ability, I knew I would finish, and nothing at this point would stop me. If I had to crawl to the finish line, I would still cross itit was in my grasp.
I rounded a few more corners and finally, I saw the final time clock. I had a little over 100 yards to run and I picked up my pace to the fastest I could go. Karen turned to the stands and shouted out, Lets hear it for Patrick! Hundreds of strangers started cheering and for those final few steps the pain disappeared.
6 hours 25 minutes and 18 seconds after I crossed the starting line 26.2 miles ago, I crossed the finish line; I finished 14,041.
Final Thoughts
Everyone from the South Bay Team In Training run team who started the marathon on Sunday, June 6th completed it. We can each say this: 1) We are marathoners & 2) we were part of the 3,400 Team In Training participants who raised over 12.5 million dollars for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society by training for the Rock n Roll Marathon.
Anyone can do what I did. Most of you reading this journal right now could probably finish your first marathon faster than I did. For me that is what this goal evolved into: finishing a marathon. I dont feel like I have abandoned my original goal; I will run another marathon and my time will definitely improve. I figure I will run my next one in about 5 hours and 15 minutes. Im already beginning to think about 2006 and completing another one of these events.
This whole dream ended up being more than just a 6+ hour run on a Sunday. For me it demonstrated the capacity & generosity of human beings. From my cousin Debbie and my friend Ashlee who were some of the first to donate, to my friend Charlie who brought in some lunch while I rested in the hotel on Saturday before the race, to my mentors Karen & John who constantly provided encouragement and support, Ive been blessed by the compassion of family and friends. Ive learned more about Leukemia, Lymphoma, myeloma, and other blood related cancers and have heard the moving stories of those who have fought these disease and won, those who are still fighting, and those who lost the battle with cancer, but still touched so many lives in their time here on Earth.
Life is too short not to dream. I encourage all of you to take on the impossible task and surround yourself with amazing people who support your journey. Cherish not just your accomplishment, but the road that you take to get there. Ive learned so much in the past few months, and I approach the next challenge with a new sense of confidence.
Thank you for supporting me along the way and helping this dream become a reality.
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