Now I'm a veteran, or at least I'd like to think I am. I knew the route and knew what to expect. Afterall, the course was the same as last year. And after spending 4.75 hours on these roads, you remember quite a bit about them. Perhaps too much.
How wrong I was about to be!
March 29, 1998
El Nino had left it's imprint on the weather all year. It had been cold and raining most of the winter. And the days before the marathon seemed to promise a cold, wet day. But, L.A. has a way of pulling out picture-perfect weather just before any major sporting event. The day dawned cold but clear.
The LA Roadrunners, with whom I trained, had a room at the Bona Venture. We gathered early before the marathon. I drank Gatorade, stretched and ate. I sorted out my gear - camera, powergel, sunscreen, money (you never know what will happen) and talked to friends. We were excited - ready or not today was the day. I wished I had a few more weeks to train as I missed some training due to illness and a sore knee. But I would just have to make do with what I had. Start slow and see how things progress.
I lined up way to the back of the field. I found a bit of sun and stood in its warming rays. The temperature was a chilly 48 degrees! The marathon got underway but it took me a full 9 minutes to reach the start! Since we were using the chip again, it didn't matter. I walked and talked as we made our way to the start. Then, as strains of "I Love L.A." reached our ears we settled into a slow jog. Another L.A. Marathon gets underway.
I was aiming for a 11 minute/mile pace for the first half of the race. I wanted to be certain that I'd finish. I saw a friend from work and took her picture. I slowly made my way through the crowd, talking to people, taking pictures and high-fiving the kids.
About mile 5 I noticed a hotspot in my shoe. Hmm, I've run with these shoes before but I had tied them tighter than usual. I kept going hoping that it would sort itself out. No such luck. Finally at mile 8 I stopped at a medical tent. A blister was forming under my arch on my right foot. The doctor on duty put a large piece of moleskin on the blister. Let's hope that does the trick. I trot out of the tent and for a while my foot feels better. But I realize that it's going to be a long race for me today.
Sure enough, the moleskin helps but every step is painful. Great! I've been training for this marathon and was really looking forward to running it. Now it looks as if I should bail out. I decide to keep going for a while and see how long I can bear the pain.
About mile 10 I see a friend from work. He has been walking a mile and then running a mile. I ask if he'd like company and Steve agrees to let me pace beside him. While having someone to run with is an asset for me, my constant comments must have been hard on him. Every mile I caught myself saying "Why am I doing this?" or "I must be crazy." These comments are interspersed with the "Ow" and "Ouch" that accompany many of my steps. I couldn't believe how long it took us to reach the halfway point.
Things would get better for a while as we talked and enjoyed the change of scenery. Somewhere along Highland Blvd. a guy was standing in his front yard drinking a beer and watching us parade by. Jokingly, I asked for a drink. "Here ya go" he said as he offered me a beer. Someone overheard my comment and offered me a soft drink. Sugar! Yes! I turned around and was handed a root beer. I ran after Steve and then realized that there wasn't any caffeine in root beer. Hmm, I wonder what they'd think if I went back and asked for another drink? I decided to risk being rude and went back for something with caffeine to ward off the headache I knew I would have later. I took a Coke and trotted after Steve again. "Oh, no!" It's DIET! Back I go again (these folks are going to wonder what I'm doing) and they show me the entire selection. I take a root beer and thank them profusely. They are probably still talking about the runner who couldn't be satisfied.
Now I've got quite a distance to catch up to Steve. I take off and after 10 minutes or so I see him. Of course, I can't drink the carbonated drink after running so hard so I carry it for a while before opening it. Opps, it's time to run our mile. Steve graciously agrees to walk another mile so I can drink the hard-won soft drink.
The miles are slowly going by - 18, 19, 20. We are at the back of the pack for the runners and with the faster walkers. This provides for an interesting atmosphere as many people around us are obviously in pain, while others are quite happy (the walkers). I try to generate some life in the group by making up a chant: "We've got blisters, yes we do. We've got blisters, how about you?" The reaction from other runners was either a look that could kill or a laugh. It was surprisingly quiet in our little part of the marathon.
Steve keeps me going. Walk a mile, run a mile. Either way it hurt so I didn't mind the running too much. However, just being on your feet for over 5 hours gets tiring! As we got closer to the finish line, the harder it was to convince my legs that I really did want to run.
Somewhere on the course I missed the final flag that said "One mile to go". Soon I could see the final turn onto Flower that meant the end was near. I wanted a picture of the finish line, so I ran on ahead and stopped short to get the banner in the picture. I had thought about crossing the finish line with my shoes in my hands (I wanted those shoes off something fierce!) but I was afraid that the chip wouldn't catch the signal and record my finishing time. So I tried to look as if I was enjoying the marathon and smiled at the camera as I crossed the carpet.
We did IT! Five hours and forty nine minutes. Now I know why people say running a marathon is a mental workout. I basically willed myself to run the last 17 miles. I knew I could physically cover the distance - it just became a battle over how much I wanted to endure the pain. (And there were times I didn't want to go on.) Chalk up one more marathon experience.
One good thing about going so slowly is that you recover faster. I felt pretty good the next day and headed off to Florida four days later for a week long bicycle ride.
Now I have discovered the boundaries of my marathon experience. My first marathon was an experience that can never be repeated. And if I ever feel like this during a marathon again, I'll drop out. So from here on out marathons will be better than my second one and different than my first. I'm looking forward to what my next marathon has in store for me.