Marathon Post

It is a struggle to be brief when writing about my marathon due to the length and depth of the experience. My training started nearly 4 years ago as a stress reliever during the anxiety riddled months of fertility treatments before Norah was born. It was put on hold after an injury, then was voluntarily put on hold again as I adapted to becoming a father, then a father of two. I commenced training as it became evident that stress relief was again essential in the face of new financial and lifestyle strains. I cannot express how much it meant for me, that Heather supported my need for personal time and provided so much support along the way.

The most recent span of training covered 20 weeks. In the summer I ran when it was blazing hot, sometimes over 100 degrees outside. I ran in the rain several times this fall. This winter I ran in freezing weather, with insanely bitter winds. I ran early in the morning as the sun rose and in the dark late at night. Finding time to run without previous conflicts getting in the way was difficult to say the least. I was regularly chased by dogs, everything from Pit Bulls to the neighbor's Chihuahua, misleadingly named "Precious" (the little devils are scarier and more tenacious).

Throughout the process I didn't have to do anything amazing, I just had to follow the schedule religiously, and keep running to build up miles and stamina. Running alone was sometimes mundane and lonely, but it gave me what I needed. Depending on the moment's needs I could block out everything and vegetate, I could sort out my tasks and schedules, or I could reflect on life and disappear inside my mind. The most unexpected reward was the opportunity to pray or meditate over the course of many minutes, or intermittently over hours, without distraction. It was something I never sought, but I was thankful to find it.

I got more and more excited as the day approached and talked about it to anyone that would listen. Finally, after years of waiting and preparation, the day of the big race arrived. It was a cool and foggy 47 degrees, which actually felt pretty comfortable once we ran out of the holding areas. It was amazing to see the number of participants, volunteers, and spectators. The view was amazing as there were around 20,000 runners of all shapes, sizes and abilities, including representatives from all 50 states, several international participants, and the inspirational and courageous paraplegics and amputees.

Ticker tape, loud music, and cheering erupted from the starting area while tv boom cameras hovered in and out overhead. Throughout the race I had to be constantly aware of my surroundings, careful not to collide with or impede other runners. Spectators surrounded the starting area and assembled in bunches throughout the course. Running in front of so many competitors and spectators greatly contrasted to my training runs that were normally only observed by an occasional driver, lawn crews, and garage sale shoppers.

The 26.2 mile course setting was beautiful with many contrasts. It began at American Airlines Center, home of the Mavericks and Stars, with very modern downtown surroundings. It wound through uptown Turtle Creek, jogged through the tree lined and elegant Highland Park, then looped around the natural beauty of the race's namesake, Whiterock Lake. A couple miles past the 13.1 mile halfway point on the East side of Whiterock lake, was a perfect view of the Women's Garden at the Dallas Arboretum, which gave me a nice pick me up as I could see the location where I proposed to Heather. The second half passed through the Lakewood area, then followed mansion lined Swiss Avenue, before returning to the Start/ Finish at Victory Park.

Although scenic, the course itself was less memorable than the participants and spectators. At the beginning of the race, the spectacle, excitement, adrenaline, and training carried me. Those wore off as the miles passed, and people became my lifeline. Spectators stood for hours, holding a variety of signs. Some cheered on specific loved ones, some quoted scripture, others offered simple encouragement like "Keep going", and others attempt to lighten the mood. One of my favorites was "Don't stop now, everyone is watching."

As a rookie marathoner, I had to learn some things the hard way. First, always make sure to bring a bottle of water for before and after the race. Second, don't stop to stretch when you're muscles are fatigued. I was running well, felt strong, and was well ahead of my anticipated pace, but somewhere between miles 20 and 22 I stopped to stretch out some soreness and felt my hamstring stretch too far. Momentum was instantly lost and the goal to finish seemed to be in jeopardy. I tentatively started again, without much trouble, but the pain intensified over the next couple miles. I compensated my form, then felt a tweak in my quad muscle. I ran the last 3 or 4 miles feeling pain increasing everywhere and wanted to quit several times.

That was when the people again became the focus. Spectators yell encouragement to every random person that catches their eye along the way. They call you by name or reference a distinguishing characteristic of your clothes to personalize the encouragement and make sure you know they are specifically yelling for you. When you exhibit fatigue and pain, spectators go into overdrive and shower you with random acts of kindness and revive your spirit. Another runner even ran alongside me for a few strides and told me I had the strength to finish, and encouraged me to run through the pain. That encouragement coupled with prayer and a measure of extreme stubbornness kept my feet moving forward.

The last miles passed slowly until we made the last turn. Several runners around me were also in bad shape and struggled to continue, but a strange thing happened the moment the turn revealed the finish. Everyone surged from a limp to a sprint for the last 0.2 miles. I felt no pain anywhere in my body during that sprint and ran faster than I have in months. I had to weave between a pair of runners at the finish line that literally could go no further, and I finished in 4:14:13, well ahead of my 4:20:00 goal.

Seconds after I finished, fatigue hit me like a sledgehammer and every leg muscle cramped and I felt very weak. I felt juxtaposed between elation and agony. Many events in my life were more rewarding and memorable than this, but this far surpassed any athletic event I can remember. I was happy that Heather, Russell and Phillip met me shortly afterward and shared the moment with me (and graciously put up with my hobbling around), once again proving that the greatest part of a marathon event is the people that encourage you.

What I would I like for my kids to learn someday from this experience is that you can accomplish great tasks if you commit to them and have faith, but you cannot do it alone. Likewise, simple acts of kindness can pick up people in need.