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shiny
February 20, 2006
it was still cold. horribly, freezing cold. i was offered a chair, and i took it. i watched people move in and out of the rogue training systems' post-race compound. i had a bag of dry, warm clothes, but my sweat-soaked clothes still felt fine to me. eventually, someone said i really needed to change clothes, i was shepherded out of the old clothes and into the new.
i got to talk to people, some hugs, high-fives and handshakes, then holly, her husband, her friend april and i made the slowest walk ever back to the runtex annex, where the heat was cranked up, and where another keg awaited.
i got a ride home, kicked off my shoes and pants, and crawled into bed with my warm shirt and my medal.
i slept hard. got up to finally shower and go to dinner with tara, who had also gone to war yesterday and won. i came back home, and watched about 30 minutes of t.v. before falling asleep again.
the events were all there in my head, but i didn't feel up to sitting down and setting them all down to words for ahile. no doubt, i will think back through the marathon for days, probably longer, analyzing bits, critiquing and asking questions. but for now, i know and remember enough to matter...
i got to the race a little later than anticipated, but still early enough. it was still sub-freezing, around 29 degrees. traffic was backed up for miles, and i had seen several cars that had spun off the road on the ice that had formed overnight. the race directors postponed the start for half an hour, and the freescale people were kind enough to open up their building, including their cafeteria, for people to stay inside and keep warm. televisions were on and coffee was available, and it was good to relax some pre-race anxieties.
i've been going most of the races alone, so i was happy to be running this one with holly and tom, who shared my pace. holly is a chemist who claims she's never bought super glue, because she just mixes it up herself. tom is a 6'10", 315-pound ex-basketball player. definitely a fun, if odd, trio.
the starting gun... horn... well, whistle, went off, and the nothing that had been going on for several minutes in the starting chute suddenly... continued. it takes a long time for 10,000 runners to get across a starting line.
just past the start, we saw deer, trapped by the runners and spectators, running in circles through the grass around the freescale campus, terrified. the event we had all paid to be in and had trained and looked forward to was one of the more frightening thing these animals would probably ever experience. it's all a matter of perspective.
over the first mile, we were over a minute slow, and i was all concerned, like 1:15 was going to wreck my day. little did i know that an 11:30 mile would be a time i strove for in the last six miles of the race.
we ran, shed clothes as we warmed up, saw people wipe out on the ice running off into the woods to do what they had to do. holly mentioned that she had seen people that morning before the start making do, so to speak, out in the grass. she had seen a lot more than she had ever desired.
by mile six, i had what the doctor folk call "urinary urgency," and at mile eight, i finally left tom and holly to revisit my motive half-marathon pee stop, behind p.f. chang's. i've found their food to be increasingly mediocre, so it was sort of a political statement, as well.
i popped back out, and was able to see tom's head bobbing along ahead. i tracked his noggin for a good three miles, but wasn't able to gain much ground. i think things would have gone much better had i stuck with them.
at about 12 miles, i realized that i was starving, enough that my stomach felt completely empty.
a friend of mine was working the water stop at 12.5, and she was going to hand me my next pair of gu packets. she.... was not there. somehow, we just missed each other. i was a bit concerned. on top of that, i was in about mile 3 of a "rough patch." i began just taking it mile by mile - come on, just get to mile 13... mile 14, etc.
getting up north loop, my body became bored with inciting pain in my left foot, and decided to start trying new things, namely, a pain in my right achilles. morgan, who lives at the top of the long incline on north loop was there, and handed me not only the two gu packets i had dropped off saturday night, but two more he had gone out and bought (even the flavor i like), rubber banded to a bottle of water. life saver.
i actually got a cramp in the crook of my left arm around mile 17. i found it funny.
i got up 53rd, and tried to shift gears like our head coach steve sisson had suggested said, and it helped. it probably helped me get in under five hours. still, coming through campus, the whole "mile by mile" thing was really losing its effectiveness, as i began telling myself, "alright, you've been saying that for almost eight miles, and it's all been bullshit. i'm beginning to see through your stupid little mindgames, me."
i got up and through the hill on san jacinto, running. i kept wanting to just walk, just a little bit, but i kept thinking of the peter gabriel song, also called "san jacinto" - "hold the line, the line of strength that pulls me through the fear... san jacinto, i hold the line." sappy, i know, but things seem less sappy 20 miles in.
coming around the capitol and down the north drive, a girl in front of me pointed to a little black fountain. there were still ten inch-long icicles hanging off it.
congress helped a little. i've been down it so many times on my solo runs, doing intervals, that i was used to feeling like crap on congress. that faded pretty quick turning into the 2nd street wind tunnel. janie, my coach, caught me part way down on her bike, and rode with me a while, talking about how nice everything would be when it was over, and there'd be beer, and, god, i don't know, cupcakes and happy hand puppets or something. she veered off and said she'd be back. i kind of hoped she wouldn't.
i was hitting the shuffle/stagger down cesar chavez, but it was good seeing people coming down the other way - tara, tom, phillip, plenty of others. heading west, i was looking across the road at the st. arnold's beer stop at mile 25. at that point, it seemed inviting, and i thought that maybe i'd be doing that. i was wrong.
i got up the mopac ramp, still running. ok, still not walking. a woman passed me, and i gave her kudos. then she stopped and walked, and i passed her, and i very much dug it.
just past the turnaround, coming back down onto cesar chavez, i came up behind holly. seeing her at that point not only gave me some distraction, familiarity, and comfort, but actually some inspiration. yeah, she was crying, but she was still moving, still running, like her body was on automatic.
near the bottom, she needed to walk just a bit, because her hip was really hurting her, and i needed it, too. five hours had become the new goal, and it was within reach, so i didn't, and don't, feel bad about it. we walked a couple of times, and would set a landmark shortly ahead where we would start running again.
the last landmark was at the top of cesar chavez, just past the last water station. holly saw janie before i did, and said, "oh no, here comes janie, she's gonna make us run." we started shuffling again, like a couple of three year-olds trying to act all innocent. janie started hassling, i mean, inspiring us. i dug into my pocket, and found my last packet of gu, and flung it at her, which required a slight grunt. the packet hit her, and fell between her frame and rear wheel, and for a second i thought maybe it would somehow stop her bike. it didn't.
she rode with us across the bridge, and told us to stay with her. i saw holly dig deep and pick up her head and form and pace, and i couldn't help but follow her lead. i said many bad, foul words about janie in my head, but i loved her for what she was doing, and that she so badly wanted it for us. holly's bib had her name on it, mine didn't, but at everyone we passed, janie said, "this is holly and rob!" and people would cheer for us.
janie wanted us to accelerate again right before the turn, and i did a little bit, but holly started pulling away. i was incredibly proud of her, and heard somebody in the corner tell someone else to check out this girl finishing. the crowd in general seemed to respond, too.
i like the finishes, and running the last bits of the course, i always got my last kick in as i cleared the corner. so, it seemed kind of instinctive, and i put on some speed. i edged past holly, which was difficult, but i realized that she and i were moving way faster than the other finishers. that gave me another kick, and i just got lost in the feel of passing people. and, in my head at least, i heard a few more cheers.
i got through miles of so many runs imagining the finish, and of the last sprint at the end. not having it would have been a huge disappointment in the day. i also remembered all those days of straights and curves, and the feel of being the formerly pudgy and slow kid finally feeling fast. on top of all that, as my roommate later said, i am clearly an applause/attention whore, so i found one last gear and got into a full sprint.
i got in, moved to the side, turned, and holly was right there. i knew we were bound to be feeling the same thing - to go from the desperation and utter burnout we had felt a couple of miles ago, to powerful and dominating finishes, really meant something.
i know that people, faced with greater obstacles and greater pain, have shown a lot more will. but i also know that i pushed myself further than i thought i could go, and maybe pressed the limits of who i am back by about, oh, let's say, 15 miles. i also know that all my co-roguers and friends that i saw out there did the same, and that in doing so, we all know some things that the vast, vast majority of the people in this world couldn't begin to imagine.
there will be only a handful of people in our lives who show us the barely-discernable paths in the tall grass, and who teach us how to find them ourselves. to do it through something as basic and potentially arcane as running takes an immense depth of spirit and a grasp of the wonder of things in this world. my running teammates, old and new, are miraculously fortunate and blessed to have found that in our coaches, and to a great degree, in each other.
because of them and what they brought out in me, i have the shiny, shiny medal i wanted. and today, more things seem possible than did yesterday morning standing out in the cold waiting for the starting gun.
Posted by Rob at February 20, 2006 03:18 PM
Comments
Rob, all I can say is job well done.
Posted by: Marfc Overall at February 21, 2006 01:39 PM