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Marathon story? Well, I'm not sure I have one. I showed up, started
running, kept running for a really long time, then finished.
Well, maybe there is a bit of a story, most of which took place before
Sunday. It started back in the tenth grade at Borah High School in Boise. There
was a test in PE -- everyone had to run two miles in under twenty minutes. If
you fail, you run again next Thursday; that's the rule. About half passed the
first try. A few more passed the second and third times around. By the
fifth or sixth try, even the dyed-jet-black-hair,
smoke-behind-the-industrial-arts-building crowd was passing. Everyone except me.
I hated running with a passion. Everyone thought I liked it, though, because
I was the only person who ran laps around the track while the rest of the
class was playing soccer or flag football. I just couldn't pass the test. I was
hopeful that they'd let me stop running when the first snows fell, or if not
that, at least by the time summer vacation came around.
A few years later I gave it another shot when I was in college, largely to
unwind during finals. I started running through San Luis Obispo late at night,
when the fog came rolling in from the Pacific and put a quiet calm over the
town. Running alone through the deserted streets of downtown, across the
university, and up through the sleeping neighborhoods became addictive.
Later I moved to Arizona to go to grad school. I continued running, but it
was different amongst the desert dwellers. One day two toothless women in an
old Dodge van pulled up beside me, opened the door, and yelled something about
me having nice legs. That became my first speed workout, mostly out of fear.
Then on to Austin. I ran the longest race I've ever run, the Capitol 10K.
The following year, a friend talked me into running the first 10K relay leg of
the Motorola Marathon (when they still had a four-person relay!) The starting
line was unlike anything I'd ever experienced -- first-timers with lots of
nervous excitement, serious runners pacing in focused anticipation, and a bunch
of others just having fun with friends. The excitement was amazing.
After running my leg of the relay, I worked my way down to the halfway point
and then on to the finish line to cheer friends on. I saw it all from the
sidelines--the energy, the determination, and near the end, the struggle and the
pain of the final mile loop in Zilker Park. I was nearly moved to tears by
the drama in front of me. These were all ordinary people about to finish an
extraordinary feat. I knew then that I *had* to somehow be a part of this next
year.
So there I was in the Runtex parking lot the next August to sign up for
Austin Fit. Who do I give the check to? I'm really supposed to write my mom's
phone number on this yellow shoe tag in case they find my body on the course?
Does this happen often?
I remember all of the firsts that year -- the first time running over the
Longhorn dam. The first 10-miler. The first 12-mile run through pouring rain.
And, the first big letdown. My shin had enough and crapped out in the Decker
Challenge. I walked 7 of 12 miles and finished dead-last in my age group. The
marathon wouldn't happen that year. I was so upset that I couldn't even stay
in town. I spent Marathon Sunday out at Pedernales Falls, and stayed there
long enough so that I would be sure I didn't see a single traffic barricade,
empty Gatorade cup, or orange cone by the time I made it back to Austin.
Hmpf.
I tried the marathon again last year -- and finished! It was incredible, but
not all I had hoped. This time my IT band joined the party at mile 10, and
lingered like one of those guests you wish would go away but you find them
passed out in your front yard the next morning. You get the idea. I walked and
ran the last 16 miles not making eye contact with the medics, fearing one would
ask me if I'm OK.
I ran this year and it felt good. But, all of the failures and shortcomings
of past attempts were still in my mind. What would go wrong this year? I felt
a cold coming on, a pulled muscle in my hip, and a nervous twinge from my IT
the week before. Should I sign up and risk failing? Or, should I give up?
Giving up was definite failure, so I had to sign up; there was no way I could
live with myself unless I had at least tried.
I ran the marathon, and it was fantastic! I set out with no real time goal
in mind, only to run a strong, steady pace and finish with a smile on my
face....and I did! I felt good, I had fun, and I want to run another one. I spent
the afternoon after the race in blissful rest, reliving the experience of the
day, never wanting it to leave...
So, the story wasn't really about the marathon...it was everything leading up
to 7am last Sunday morning. I still can't really believe that I've run two
marathons. I'm thankful for the people, experiences, health, and good fortune
that have lead me to this point. I can't wait to see what's next....
Chris
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