The goal was simple, run my first marathon before turning 50. There was no hint that my first marathon would turn into the humbling experience that it did. Nor could I have expected that the most powerfully emotional moment of the weekend would come off of the course. I learned a lot about running that day, but even more about human nature.
I planned to finish the Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon in between 5 and 5 1/2 hours based on the pace of my 20-mile runs and my time in the Olathe half-marathon a month earlier. In my simplistic view of things, I just had show up at the race, run one more 20-mile training run, and then survive the extra 6.2 miles, right? That was not at all how it turned out.
Despite the outcome of my race, I still managed to have a great weekend thanks to the 45 wonderful people on the motor coach chartered by The Runners Edge. Coach Eladio Valdez took advantage of the time on the bus to prepare us for the race. We watched Spirit of the Marathon, and he encouraged each of us to come up to the microphone and share our race goals. It was interesting to hear the diversity of running experience and expectations. There was a mixture of half-marathon and full-marathon participants. Jim Harris, DaShaun Carter and I were running our first full marathons. Jim Schneweis and Kim Wingate were running their first half marathons. Several people, including Jamie Holland, were Boston Marathon veterans. Jamie ended up placing 24th overall with a time of 3:11:55. A couple were trying to qualify for Boston. Some were running to set a personal record. Many were running simply to honor the 168 victims of the Oklahoma City bombing.
Click here to see Photos from the bus trip.
The first harbinger of what lay ahead was that Eladio asked the experienced runners to share tips about running in the heat when they got up to talk about their running goals. Part way through that exercise Pritha Hariharan got a text message from a fellow Runners Edge member running the marathon in Nashville. It said she was having a terrible race because of the heat and humidity, and expected to take more than six hours to finish.
To me, being new to running, a temperature in the mid-70's with overcast skies sounded like a pleasant day -- completely missing the fact that there was 80 percent humidity. It's been an unusually cold spring, so none of us was acclimated to these temperatures yet. I wasn't thinking about the "20-degree rule," that says it feels 20 degrees warmer than the actual temperature when you are running, especially with that humidity. Coach suggested that everyone have a B or C goal in mind for the race, but I just wasn't listening.
We had a blast on the bus. Michelle Keller and others brought some great homemade cookies to pass around. Eladio's wife, Myra, entertained us with a parody. Eladio and Myra are fans of the Rocky movies. They wondered why runners don't get a theme song like boxers do in movies when they walk out to the ring. Myra memorized the words to "It's a Fight" by Three 6 Mafia, and lip-synced her impression how a rapper might approach the starting line. We joked about our whole group doing that at the race. It's one of the fuzzy photos I took on my cell phone at the link above.
There were 19,000+ race participants in the event, so it was crowded and a little chaotic heading to the starting line. I got seperated from my friends, so I waded into the crowd alone in between the 11:00 and 12:00 minute pace signs. I bumped into Brenda Lofton from my Runners Edge pace group (another blurry photo at the link above). Brenda and I started the race together, joined by her cousin, and stuck together for the first couple of miles, which is about the time DaShaun caught up with us. Brenda and her cousin went on to run the half marathon at their own pace.
DaShuan Carter and I signed up for the Runners Edge together. This was new to both of us, but we both thought we had a shot a five hours. By the time we hit mile three, the state capitol complex, we were both drenched in sweat. It felt wonderful when the wind gusted from behind us as we headed towards the capitol. We were still on pace for a five hour marathon at mile four, but by then I could already tell that I was over heating. I waved to DaShaun to run ahead without me. I slowed my pace a little and at the mile four aid station I ate a GU Rocktane Energy Gel and took a Succeed! S!cap, something I did every four miles throughout the race.
Despite being hot myself, I was surprised to see a runner throwing up at mile five on the side of the course, and then someone else just a block later. That scene was repeated several times. I decided that I did not want to be one of those runners, so when I got the aid station near mile seven I poured cold water on the back of my neck and head, leaning forward enough not to get any water in my shoes. That provided some short-term relief.
The people were great along the course. One of my race day highlights was John Mellencamp's "R-O-C-K in the USA" blasting from one of houses on the course. My feet fell into cadence with the music and I started cruising with renewed energy for the rest of the block. There were people cheering from lawn chairs and porches. A lady in costume was running up and down the street cheering the runners. One guy was even passing out beers, though I didn't see any takers. It was definitely a festive mood.
I didn't realize the race bibs were color coded until I started hearing people shout "way to go first timer." The cast on my wrist was a common theme to the cheers, "and with a cast too." All the cheering from spectators definitely helped.
At mile eight the heat was really starting to wear me down and decided I would walk for a couple of minutes. That was my first walk, other than walking through the aid stations. While I was walking Dan and Becky Thomas caught up with me. Dan an Becky got married at the Chicago Marathon last October. This was Becky's first marathon, and Dan went on to guide Becky to a 5:40 finish time. Dan "Mr. Motivator" coaxed me through both of my 20-mile runs. Dan asked if I took it easy the first five miles. I said that I had, but if they were coming up from behind at mile eight, then maybe I hadn't?
There was a big aid station just past mile eight. I drank a little extra Powerade, ate a gel and took an S!cap. I was dousing my head with cold water when I heard my name. It was Julie Hurley. Julie is a full Ironman finisher from my pace group. DaShaun and I were both inspired by her Ironman finisher jacket during training. She was on her way to a 5:44 finish. Not as fast as she wanted, but a new PR nevertheless. I elected not to join her. I walked a little more, and then settled back into a slow jog.
At mile ten the paramedics on bicycles starting zipping past me. There was a man down on the course. I careened my neck around to see if it was anybody I knew, but there were too many people taking care of him for me to see his face. I didn't see anybody else down on the course that day, but I heard the sirens many times throughout the race. I noticed that my legs were starting to feel rubbery.
By mile 12 I began to seriously question whether I could finish the race and I wasn't even halfway through the course! I decided to walk as long as I needed to recover enough to make it to the finish line. I refused to be a DNF (Did not finish) or a DNR <grin>. As I walked I sent a Tweet:
"Over heated at mile 12. Walking a mile to recover. Probably looking @ 6 hours. Will not quit."
Shortly after that a course monitor pulled her truck along side me to ask if I was alright. I'm sure my face was bright purple by then. After assuring her that I was fine I started jogging again. Just past the halfway point in the course a woman noticed my KC Marathon shirt and ask if I was from Kansas City. I remembered her bright yellow top from mile five where she had she yelled out "Go Kansas City" as I ran past her. She was an Oklahoma City local who lived just on the other side of Lake Hefner. It turns out her best friend lives in Kansas City. We visited as we ran across the Interstate 44 bridge where Lake Hefner first came into view. We could see a light house, a seafood restaurant, and white caps churning on the lake.
The local paper had this to say about the wind on the course:
"Brutal wind
Runners faced heavy gusts throughout the race, but one particular spot had participants nearly running in place. Just after Grand Blvd., runners turn onto Classen for miles 20-24. Sunday, winds out of the south that reached 40 miles per hour made those four miles seem as tough as the other 22 combined. "Coming down Classen, it felt like my legs were going to fall off," said men's marathon winner Jordan Kinley. Miles 14-16 on the edge of Lake Hefner were also extremely difficult, with winds strong enough to knock runners off balance."
Walking part of mile twelve allowed me to recover some, but now I was turning into a wind gusting to 40 MPH for 8 of the next 11 miles of the race. I tried my best to keep running along the shore of Lake Hefner, but I had to walk frequently , especially on the hill where the course crosses back over Interstate 44. I felt the first twinge of a cramp in my calves not far from the interstate. I sent another Tweet:
"Calves cramping at 18, but feeling better. Lots of walking."
The cramping subsided after I took another S!cap, and now that I was out of the wind for awhile I was able to start jogging. I did okay between miles 18 - 20 , but by the time I reached mile 21 the cramps had returned and I couldn't run far without cramping. At mile 21 I sent my last Tweet of the race:
"Calf cramps worse at 21. Have to walk."
Tears welled up in my eyes when I sent that message. Not from physical pain, but from the pain of giving in to the conditions. It's funny, we've all heard stories about runners hitting the wall around mile 20, but never once had I considered what happens after that. The answer is that they walk 6.2 miles, or whatever distance they have left--a long, demoralizing walk. That was a sobering realization. The other thing that I realized is that there is no quick redemption after a race goes bad. I trained for seven months for this event, and now I must train and wait another six more months for the Kansas City Marathon before getting a chance to redeem myself.
Turning into that gusting wind again on Classen Blvd was just awful, and I was frustrated by feeling recovered enough to run, but unable to because of the cramping. Not only was I mad that I was walking, but I was embarrassed and dejected. I had been walking out of site on the trail by the lake, aside from the other runners who were walking near me, but Classen Blvd was crowded with cars. There I was on display, just a few feet from the long line of cars, walking, five plus hours after the start of the race, being blasted in the face with dirt and debree blown by gusting wind.
It seemed like an eternity before I finally reached the neighborhoods at mile 24 with some protection from the wind. Surprisingly, people were still out cheering the runners, not that anybody near me was still running. It's tough to hear someone say "great job" when you are walking. I would manage to jog for a block or so without cramping, but I was completely spent--both mentally and physically. I've never been so happy as I was to see the finish line ahead of me. About a block away I broke into a jog again and drug my sorry butt across the finish line, 6:29:08 from when I stated. Eladio, Dan and Becky Thomas, Chuck Manthey and Lisa Flemming were all waiting for me. It meant a lot to me that they had stuck around so long to see me finish.
Sadly, the finishing corral was a ghost town by then. There were no finisher medals, no finisher shirts, no more Carl's Junior hamburgers from the sponsor. I didn't see anyone to collect my timing chip until a National Guardsman stopped me and pointed me back 50 yards where a couple of teenagers were sitting on cardboard boxes talking. It was an anticlimactic end to disappointing marathon.
Riding back on the bus after the race was therapeutic. Eladio gave a good talk, afterwards we took turns going up to the microphone to share our experiences. It helped to hear stories from other runners who struggled at similar points in the race. The average time for the full marathon participants was 30 - 40 minutes worse than they planned. It was equally helpful to hear the stories from people who managed to beat the elements to achieve their goals.
Everyone was great to me. Mark Bertison told me that he had not trained any harder for his first marathon, but just got luckier with the weather. I spoke with two or three people who had similar times on their first marathons. Virginia Harmer reminded me that she once left a marathon at mile 18 in an ambulance.
The biggest surprise of the weekend happened when we stopped for dinner on the way back. I was standing with Eladio waiting to head back out to the bus when I noticed someone reaching towards me. It was Trisha Klaus, a seven-time marathon finisher from the 10:00 pace group, hanging her finishers medal around my neck! I couldn't believe it. It spoke volumes about Trisha's character, and about the character of the Runner's Edge group generally. The race organizers promised to mail a shirt and medal to everyone who finished, so Trisha will get her medal back, but I won't forget what she did.
My final Tweet from the bus said it all:
"I crossed the finish line. That's all that matters."