Courage To Start

"The miracle is not that I had the courage to start...the miracle is that I finished." This quote which has been flipped from what I read on the back of a runner's t-shirt along the race, pretty much summarizes my first marathon experience.

As I lay awake in bed at 4:45am on race day, I could sense the rhythm of my pulse. I felt like a death row inmate whose time had come, except in this case I had volunteered for it. Anticipating race day jitters, the previous day I had written down every thing I needed to do, including yes, even brushing my teeth. After the morning drill based on my race day checklist, I grabbed my gear and my still bleary-eyed "honey_is_today_the_marathon?" wife, and we headed to the staging area by 6:30am.

It was here that I started to feel the intensity of this event. The patrol officers, the street closures and flashing signs, the overhead choppers, the announcer's tower, the gyrating music, and most awesome of all, the sea of runners anxiously waiting for the death march to begin. After a light jog and some mild stretching, by 6:30am I moused my way through the crowd, and positioned myself in the vicinity of the 4:30 pace group.

The excitement was electrifying...here was one moment in time when I bonded instantly with total strangers, even before the crack of dawn. Their beaming smiles, and cheerful enthusiasm was contagious, and soon found myself reciprocating the same, oblivious to the task at hand. As I looked around, I came across many a familiar face of my fellow runners from Austin Fit. For a moment, I was unsure whether I was amongst wedding guests (Jonathan, LaDonna, Frank,..) waiting for the couple to make their entry, or in the final minutes before a marathon start.

Before long, the announcer's voice reminded me of the grueling undertaking that lay ahead. With less than a minute to go, I turned my focus on myself and quickly rehearsed the road I had traveled to get here. Not that there were any self-doubts, but I reassured myself of the training regimen I had been through with Austin Fit. Finally, I sensed feet shuffling all around me, and the entire mob began inching forward. I started my stopwatch, threw my hands in the air, and joined the crowd in one final cheer as we slowly passed the official starting line, almost 4 minutes behind the race clock.

My first few minutes were consumed paying attention to my body's every move, all the while urging caution to keep a slow and relaxed pace. I felt great, cruising along in the initial miles, and walking through the water stops. By mile 12, I felt I had the power of the Space Shuttle, awaiting lift off. The route on Shoal Creek was great in the residential areas, where folks cheered us from their front lawns, especially the kids waving flags. These were moments when I truly felt like a world class athlete, leading the pack of elite runners in the New York Marathon, and the trees appeared as though hundreds of cheering onlookers were lining the streets. Believe me, I felt like I was on top of the world here!

By mile 14, I picked up the pace a bit, just as I passed 29th on Lamar. By now, I was really rocking! I told myself this is too easy, given that I had already passed the half way point! The crowds were so encouraging, cars honked as they passed by, the weather was cool, and I...no kidding, I still felt groovy. But the marathon wasn't over just yet :-)

By the time I reached Caesar Chavez & Congress (mile 17), now almost 3 hours and 15 minutes into the race, I was starting to feel more like a 60's Chevy, than a space bird. Silly me, I was human after all, and I began to sense a dull ache in my legs. No way, I refused to believe the distance was getting the better of me. But by now, I noticed more runners passing me. By mile 18, I decided to slow down my pace, and shorten my strides. My upper body felt great, but my legs were feeling heavy. I distracted myself from the discomfort by waving to the support staff, cheering the other runners beside me, and enjoying the scenery.

By mile 19, the neurons in my brains began to sense what I feared most --muscle cramps in my quads. Yes, mission control was now on high alert. I was furious that my legs decided to behave irrationally, just when I need them most. By now, I had just crossed onto Robert Martinez Rd., and my engine had been running for almost 3 1/2 hours. Several runners were now walking. I could feel the cramps pulsing in my legs, and it began to hurt. Here was when I began to see the human drama unfold. I passed an elderly man, and his distress was obvious. His jersey was bloodied around his nipples. Another lady lay in the grassy area on the side of the road, clutching her foot in hand. And a few yards ahead, I would pass yet another person on the roadside, bending over, apparently trying to relieve a stomach stitch. My longest pre-race run was around 19 miles, and so now I was in beginning to enter the twilight zone. I began to realize the next 7 miles would be the ultimate test of my body's threshold of pain vs. the power of the mind to complete the race, against all odds!

I trotted along at a slow pace, until I reached the mile 20 water stop. Here I stopped and lay down in the grassy area beside the road and did some stretching, hoping to relieve the cramps before they got worse. Within a few minutes and much deliberation between my mind and my legs, I was back to the grind. Initially it felt better, but before long, my quads were feeling tight, and I could feel the gremlins biting through my legs. The agony of the moment tempted me to slow down and walk. As I took the right from Chalmers onto Ceaser Chavez, I see Kip Harris. His gusto and strong cheer kept me moving, despite the pain. Yet another genuinely nice fellow human!

Seeing me writhing in the crushing pain, a kind lady at the mile 21 water stop graciously offered to massage my legs. I've been told the Lord works in mysterious ways, and I am thankful for that. The pain having eased, I drenched myself in water, and started walking. It wasn't easy, and soon I found myself questioning my reason for being here. Voices from within my head chided me for embarking on this irrational endeavor. Before I knew it, I felt the members in my head had gathered around the round table to discuss the crisis. At one point, I screamed just to ease the commotion in my very head! Just then, I saw the consoling glances from my fellow runners, and more than one person inquired if I needed help. Having affirmed my sanity and silenced the chaos within, I kept moving.

I witnessed the merciless and brutal nature of the marathon at mile 22. As I walked through the water-stop, I noticed a burly gentleman with a rather disconcerting look, slowing to a halt a few steps ahead of me. I heard him ask for route directions, to the lady handing out the water. Route directions? Hello, anybody home? I was amused at first...the route was clearly visible with the trail of runners ahead and behind, not to mention the obvious course identifiers. The lady, rather perplexed at his question, pointed out the course direction. He proceeded to wipe his glasses, and as if he hadn't heard a word she said, repeated his request for directions again. That's when she realized that the race had taken its toll on him. She seated him immediately, and motioned to the nearby EMS officer on his bike. As I struggled to press on, I looked back one final time...he lay motionless on the grass, with the paramedics monitoring his vital signs. It was unnerving, but I already felt better knowing all I had to deal with was just yucky cramps!

Every mile now seemed more than a light-year away, and the pain just seemed to get worse. By mile 23, the cramps in my quads were hurting real bad, and my calves were starting to misbehave too. By now, I was moving alongside traffic on Riverside. I could sense the grimacing stares from the cars passing by, probably wondering anyone would inflict this agony on themselves. For all I cared, I just strained every nerve in my eye to see the next mile marker. At one point, my wishful thinking was flirted with by the speed limit signs on the street.

Like a wounded soldier in the desert dodging enemy fire, I hobbled along stopping every few yards to stretch and walk, and then mounted my saddle and kept moving. I had passed mile 25 and now with the patrons in Chuy's and Shady Grove cheering, the blaring music, and the sympathetic but encouraging smiles of passers by, I approached the right onto Lou Neff and entered the chute. By now, my spirits started to soar, and despite the intense pain, I felt great. This last stretch seemed like a marathon in itself, and the end was nowhere in sight. Finally, 5 hours, and 27 minutes since the dawn of civilization (yes, it was a long time!) I crawled, er I mean sprinted across the finish line. What a glorious feeling!

I've been both humbled by the marathon's distance, and at the same time it has given me a feeling of celebration for this achievement. Quite simply, I'm amazed at the fact that I did it! To all the Austin Fit coaches, fellow runners, and to the hundreds of people I've met along the way - thank you, thank you, thank you! The following quote by George Adams summarizes it:

"There is no such thing as a 'self-made' man. We are made up of thousands of others. Everyone who has ever done a kind deed for us, or spoken one word of encouragement to us, has entered into the make-up of our character and of our thoughts, as well as our success." This is even more true for a runner crossing the finish line at the marathon.

Where do I go from here? Ever since the marathon, my running shoes have been in the storage closet. I definitely plan to run the marathon next year, and hope to continue my weekly runs with Austin Fit. But for now, I'm looking forward to my new job description that includes speedy_diaper_changing, and prolonged_sleep_deprivation. Yes, that's right, I'm hoping to be a dad pretty soon. Now that's one marathon without a finish line, and so I'll be running for a long time to come :-)

Cheers,
Abraham