My husband, Ed, and I started running marathons again two years ago after a 12-year hiatus. I actually promised myself in 1995 when I ran the one before the break that it would be my last. After that race, I was in such pain that it took months to recover. I explained to numerous inquiries about my limp that I had been ignorant enough to do a marathon, twice. However due to many factors—a knee strap, stupidity, masochism, and a desire to relive that marathon high—two years ago, we got back in the game and ran the Dallas White Rock Marathon . Since that time, we have done the New York City Marathon, the Oklahoma City Marathon and last weekend, the San Antonio Marathon. We thought the OKC Marathon, billed as the Run to Remember for the victims of the 1995 bombing, was horrible—with 30 mph head winds and 70 degree temperatures, but that was nothing compared to the 94% humidity and 80 degree temperatures in San Antonio. I’ve discovered that the challenge in running marathons is that the decision is made and the money paid three months before the run. And I’m definitely too cheap to drop out because of a little bad weather
It was a quick trip because I had to save what vacation days I had left for the Christmas holidays. We departed Dallas on Saturday morning, November 14, 2009 at about 9:00 a.m. We have a relatively new Prius and haven’t quite figured out the navigation system, so we didn’t understand why PETA (our personal trip advisor) kept trying to deter us from the interstate and direct us to the 8-hour back-roads route instead. We finally realized why she was being so obstinate (we told her no freeways); and once we changed that setting, she didn’t bug us as much.
We are always apprehensive about an upcoming race and so try to eat right and limit our activity the day before—absolutely no running and a limited amount of walking and alcohol. But once we arrived at our destination, the Red Roof Inn, we were obligated to hike the mile to the Expo at the Alamo Dome to pick up our packets and get our freebies. It was definitely hot which made us extra nervous about our chances for good weather the following day.
The Expo was similar to most—get your number, get your shirt, get your goody bag—and then spend a fortune on Marathon gear. The prices were mostly outrageous although there was a selection of warm, cuddly jackets that were only $42. Luckily I wasn’t looking great that day, and the jacket I tried on didn’t do much for me, so I saved myself some money. We bought a nice poster for $20 that we will frame and put with the others on the Wall of Fame in our recreation room.
At the Expo, we spent a good portion of our time looking for the MGD 64 booth. Runners were required to present their photo ID in order to get a bracelet that allowed them a free beer at the finish line. This was to insure no beer was served to minors. After drinking Shiner Bock, MGD 64 tastes like piss-water; and I don’t see why anyone would be worried about a few calories after running that far, but it was the only choice available. I figured even piss-water would hit-the-spot after 26.2 miles.
We were told at the Expo that most San Antonio restaurants near downtown had sold-out for the evening. That’s what 32,000 people will do to a city. We had elected not to participate in the $15/each pasta dinner in San Antonio because in OKC the servings were small—kid-meal size—and we were afraid of a repeat of that. So we made a reservation at a pizza restaurant (the closest we could get to pasta) ten miles from downtown. It turned out to be a lucky choice even though we had to drive; and, once again, PETA came in handy. When we arrived at our destination, a place not very appetizingly-called “Dough”, there was a line a mile long out the door. We sailed in with our reservation and were seated almost immediately—at the Chef’s Table, no less—where we could watch with fascination, the pizzas being prepared and cooked in a wood-burning oven. The pizza was to-die-for and the apple crisp topped with vanilla bean ice cream literally out-of-this-world. Satiated, we turned out the lights at 8:30 p.m.
We were up well before dawn and checked out of the hotel by 5:00 a.m. Bad omen—before we left the hotel, a runner in the lobby stepped outside and remarked that the sweatshirts we were wearing would not be necessary. A t-shirt was plenty—serious problem. We also had had a serious problem with the shuttle in OKC and wouldn’t have made it to the start line had it not been for the kindness of strangers from Ft. Worth. As the start line was 2.5 miles from our hotel, we wanted to make sure we didn’t have to walk that before running the 26.2. We needn’t have worried. When we got to the shuttle stop, there were busses and runners lined up for miles. The runners, in conga-line style, started, stopped and snaked around numerous times before being deposited at the door of the bus. After nearly an hour, we were safely on our way to our destination and our destiny.
Once at the start line and in the corral which positioned us according to projected finish time, we waited for the Star-Spangled Banner and the sound of the gun, and waited, and waited, and waited. The start was a “wave start” to spread out the field so once the gun sounded, we still had another 35 minutes until we were actually off. There are inherent problems with the wave start. In addition to having to wait forever to start, you never know how you’re doing because the clocks on the course start before you do. To make matters worse, when you’re finished, your time looks much worse than it actually was; and that time is captured in your victory photo as you cross the finish line. It makes me wonder why anyone would buy one of those pictures and why they even bother to take them.
Finally we were running and it felt exhilarating. There were few spectators for the first mile or so; but after that, they hung out in droves in some areas while other areas were relatively dead. Because it was a Rock-N-Roll Marathon, bands blared and stomped at least every mile and the music lifted my spirits and put a spring in my step. At mile 2.25, we passed the Alamo; at mile 6.5, San Pedro Park and mile 9, the King William District. Ed and I had been running together from the beginning. A couple times he had told me to slow down, and believe me, I tried; but I felt too good. I finally left Ed during mile 10 right before the half marathon split off. At that time I was confident and going strong.
I felt absolutely marvelous and that I could run forever. As I ran, I was calculating my finish time in my head based on the 11-minute pace I was running. If I kept it up, I would achieve my goal of a 4:45 marathon. I was writing this story in my head projecting my elation and surprise at how wonderful I felt and how wonderful I did—NOT! How often have I told the kids, “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.” This was a classic case of that.
I continued to feel good and click off the miles. Mile 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17—still felt good. I kept to my pace although it was starting to heat up. When the run began, it was in the high 60’s or low 70’s. By mile 18, the temperature was approaching 80. The sun had burned through the clouds and began to beat down mercilessly. I lost a minute during mile 18 and another one during 19. After that, I hit the wall hard! It was brutal and devastating. I walked and ran the last 7 and finished in 5:09. I did manage to run the entire last mile although it took every ounce of my remaining strength. As I crossed the finish line, I felt elation at having finished and also elation at being able to stop! I sat on the curb with my feet in a puddle waiting for Ed. He finished in 5:32. He was right—we should have gone slower in the beginning!
After drinking a bottle of water and washing off with an ice-cold washcloth (wisely given at the finish line instead of the usual insulating heat sheets), we got our picture taken with our medals. We meandered to the beer tent and I downed that piss-water in record time. We picked up bananas and energy bars, but what we were aching for was real food. Wasting no time, we hobbled the mile back to the hotel, picked up our suitcases from the lobby and walked to the car. When I took off my shoes to change into sandals, I guessed I would lose the big toenail on my right foot and the second toenail on my left. But hey, like one of the signs on the course said, “Toenails are overrated!”
The week before, I had called the YMCA closest to downtown to make sure we could use their facilities after the race. Most folks were hanging out in San Antonio another night to recover and celebrate. There was a concert planned with Grand Funk Railroad and Los Lonely Boys, admission free with race number; but because I had no vacation time left, we had to head home. We found the YMCA easily, thanks to PETA; but didn’t like what we heard. The showers were closed? How could that be? The front-desk attendant on duty didn’t have the authority to unlock them and the manager was incommunicado. What to do?
In an act of desperation, we chose our only option—wash in the sinks. I was lucky no one came in during my “shower” as I stood buck naked in a pool of soapy water. I washed my hair in the sink before realizing I didn’t have a towel. I dried off with paper towels which came out slowly and in small sections from the motion-sensitive dispenser. When I was finished, I actually felt clean, although a tad bit soapy. A still would have preferred a hot shower!
The drive home was uneventful. We stopped at Cracker Barrel for dinner almost immediately. That helped a lot. By the time we ate, I was famished. Everything tasted so unbelievably delicious. After dinner and back in the car, our conversation turned to the Dallas White Rock Marathon. It was four weeks away—we decided to look at a long-range weather forecast and see how we felt after running the 8-mile Dallas Turkey Trot. We would run another marathon—probably sooner rather than later.
Showing posts with label Marathon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Marathon. Show all posts
Friday, November 20, 2009
Thursday, May 14, 2009
OKLAHOMA CITY MEMORIAL MARATHON - April 26, 2009
Why would anyone want to run a marathon? I am often asked this question and I always find it difficult to put my answer into words. Running a marathon is agonizing, excruciating, enjoyable, entertaining, exhilarating and mind-blowing—all within a relatively short period of time. It becomes increasingly difficult but more rewarding the further you run. Circumstances beyond your control can minimize or negate countless hours of strenuous training. But crossing the finish line will put a smile on your face no matter how much you have suffered. In addition, the self-congratulatory feeling endures for weeks, even months.
We had good reasons for wanting to run the Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon. My husband, Ed, and I had just finished running the New York City Marathon in November the year before, and our best friend and training partner, Larry, hadn’t made it into the lottery. We wanted to run a marathon with Larry—close to home so it wouldn’t be too expensive, and in the spring before it got too hot. The OKC Memorial Marathon is run in memory of the 168 victims of the bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building on April 19, 1995. Their names are emblazoned on banners that hang from lampposts during the first few miles of the run. For that reason, it is billed as “A Run to Remember.” We found it memorable in more ways than one!
We started our training after the Christmas holidays when we are usually fat and happy. From January until mid-April we increased our weekly Saturday runs from 10 miles to 22 miles in addition to running 4 to 5 miles three times a week. Unfortunately (or fortunately as it turned out) for Larry, his knee started giving him problems and he had to withdraw near the final stages of the training. Initially Larry had planned to drive us to OKC and be our support; but when we discovered that a group from the Dallas Running Club had chartered a bus, we decided to let Larry completely off the hook and go it alone.
On the morning of April 25th, our daughter, Katie, drove us to the bus where our adventure was to begin. Ed and I had planned to join the Dallas Running Club years ago but somehow had never gotten around to it. One of my reasons was that I thought every DRC member ran a sub 4-hour Marathon and I thought we would feel out-of-place. I was surprised to discover that some of the people on the bus actually thought we were fast. It was a welcome surprise and one that made me feel especially comfortable around this former group of total strangers. Additionally and almost immediately, we met Ram, another person who appeared to know absolutely no one. Coincidentally, he teaches finance to graduate students at the Cox Business School at SMU. I have worked for the Cox family for 18 years and Ed is a financial analyst—a perfect example of synchronicity.
The ride from Dallas to Oklahoma City was pleasant talking to Ram and Libby. Libby was sitting behind us and had arranged the bus trip—she was in charge. There would be other DRC marathon trips in the future, possibly even one to San Antonio in the fall—our next scheduled marathon. When we arrived in OKC, it took nearly an hour to shuttle everyone to their respective hotels—ours was about 6 miles from downtown. We were there only long enough to grab a snack before the bus was back to take us to the Expo and Pasta Dinner.
The Expo was lame compared to New York City’s. I was surprised at how little Official OKC Marathon merchandise there was. We were also disappointed at the lack of freebies—not even any food let alone merchandise. I ended up buying a pair of blister-proof socks which, in hindsight, didn’t work at all.
At 6:00 p.m. our group met at the Renaissance Hotel to walk over to the dinner en masse. The dinner was held outdoors at the Memorial—the same place the race was to start the next morning. Although the food was pretty bad and definitely not worth ten bucks, it did give us a chance to explore the Memorial again and relive its quiet elegance. We had visited it about four years ago when our daughter, Ali, had a gymnastics meet at the University of Oklahoma. It is truly a monument to honor those who lost their lives in a senseless act and give hope to those living with its aftermath. We almost didn’t make it back to the bus we were so immersed in its serenity.
Back at our hotel, we prepared for the race. We laid out clothes, numbers, chips and shoes and turned in early as our alarm would wake us at 4:30 a.m. Busses were scheduled to shuttle us to the start beginning at 5:00 a.m. We figured if we boarded at 5:15 a.m., we wouldn’t have time for the free pancake breakfast provided by a neighborhood church, but we should have plenty of time to use the porta-potties before making it to the starting line. Those were “the best-laid plans of mice and men”.
The Marathon was scheduled to start at 6:30 a.m. When we got to the shuttle stop, there were roughly 15 other runners waiting; by 5:35, there were more like 60. We were panicking. Even if the bus came quickly, we were afraid we wouldn’t all fit. If anyone at all were on the bus already, some runners would be left waiting for the next bus. As fate would have it, we met two guys from Ft. Worth who had a car and invited us to ride with them. We were downtown, parked and through the potty line in a jiffy. As we shoved our way to our pace group leaders, we heard the National Anthem being sung. We couldn’t have timed it better!
The first few miles of the race were hot—it was 72 degrees with 80% humidity and the wind we had felt earlier while waiting for the bus had blown away (or so we thought). We found out later that the race was completely sold out—the marathon, the half, and the relays—bringing the total number of runners to roughly 19,000. We were thankful the sun wasn’t shining as that would have made it hotter, and thankful it wasn’t raining as we had heard it might. We were running in the 4:45 pace group and, for awhile anyway, it seemed perfect. I was glad that Ed and I were running together—we were enjoying the scenery and the feel of the pavement under our feet.
I had studied the course map some but, as I didn’t know the City, I wasn’t sure where we were most of the time. I knew we were running out to Lake Hefner and back—but that was about the extent of it. I was bothered by the narrowness of the streets and the crowding of the runners. It was difficult to stay behind the pace leaders but I was determined. I knew at some point the half marathoners would peel off and things would loosen up. We ran through downtown and Bricktown (home of the Oklahoma City Red Hawks). About 4 or 5 miles into the run, we were in an industrial area of the City heading straight for what seemed like miles. I turned my head at just the right time to see the Oklahoma City Ballet Company. As a former ballerina myself, I smiled at another seeming coincidence.
The Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon reminded me of the Dallas White Rock Marathon in many ways. As in Dallas, we ran through many parks and up many busy streets, sectioned off by orange rubber cones. Spectators were mostly waiting for friends and family members—some with signs. I don’t think many folks were there only to enjoy the show like in New York City. We also ran through neighborhoods where families sat on lawn chairs encouraging passing runners or offering treats. There were times when our pace leaders seemed to race ahead and I had trouble catching back up with them. But there were more times when they seemed to be running at just the right, comfortable pace. There were hills but they weren’t insurmountable. I felt pretty good. Little did I know that was all about to change?
The closer we got to the Lake, the steeper the hills and the stronger the wind. At some point near halfway or mile 13.1, I noticed Ed was no longer with me. The course made a loop to run alongside the Lake and I saw Ed a few minutes behind me, struggling with his head down. I called to him but he didn’t look up. I knew he was miserable because, as much as I hate wind, Ed hates it even more. I probably should have waited for him but I was still attempting to stay with the pace group although it was becoming increasingly difficult. In fact for the next couple of miles, I watched as their yellow balloons disappeared in the distance. The wind was not letting up; if anything it was becoming fiercer. Soon after that, however, I had a different challenge—I got a migraine!
I have been getting migraines most of my adult life; they started when I was in high school. I have had migraines while running a few times; but I usually take an over-the-counter medication after I finish my run and they go away. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any pills with me—that’s the last time I will run a long run without them. Migraines affect every sufferer differently. For approximately 20% of people, an aura precedes the headache. I get the most common aura which according to Medicine.Net is described as “flashing, brightly colored lights in a zigzag pattern known as fortification spectra”. No matter what it’s called, it is annoying to run without being able to see clearly. All I could do is pray it would go away.
So as I struggled to see and as I fought against the wind, I took deep breaths and prayed. I didn’t want to fail to finish—I guess that was my biggest fear. I realized it wouldn’t be the end-of-the-world, but I would be disappointed. I had never started a marathon I didn’t finish. Thankfully, after about 4 miles, the aura went away as mysteriously as it had come. I was elated—no matter how difficult it would be, I would finish! That kept me going despite the 30 mph wind in my face while I was running uphill.
The last 5 or 6 miles were grueling. Along one portion of the route that was especially steep and windy, spectators were yelling for the runners to walk and save their strength. It was true that one could walk nearly as fast as one could run—but without as much effort. I must say that I walked more in this marathon than I had in New York. But even when walking, at least I was going in the right direction. I started eating pretzels at the water stops because I realized I had probably lost a lot of salt. Again, that was a wise decision. I was able to delay my leg cramps until after I finished—and boy did I get a doozy.
At last the finish line was in sight; the agony was almost over. I crossed it with my arms raised high and a grin from ear-to-ear. I savored the moment. The medal was placed around my neck and I felt like an Olympian. My time was 5:02:29—not my goal of 4:45 but only 4 minutes slower than my NYC Marathon. Without the wind, I am sure I could have done much better. Only I knew what challenges I had faced and had conquered. I wolfed down a Carl’s Jr. Cheeseburger and some cookies; I scooped up a stylish forest green Finisher shirt, and I ran into Ed. He had finished only minutes after I did. Ram didn’t fare as well; although even with debilitating leg cramps, he finished in a respectable time.
At the absolutely perfect moment, a young man pedaling a bicycle rickshaw arrived to wisk us to the bus that took us back to our hotel to shower and check-out. The bus was farther away from the finish line than we thought and time was running short before we had to be back downtown to catch the DRC bus back home. Once on the shuttle, I noticed my feet were hurting. When I took off my shoes, my toes were a swollen and bloody mess. I think I will probably lose four toenails but it was well worth it. The bus ride back to Dallas was heaven. A couple of the blessed DRC runners handed out icy Shiners and Coronas. I had a peaceful, contented feeling that comes only after a hard-fought fight. In a few days, we would start training for San Antonio. In our minds, the 2009 Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon was definitely “A Run to Remember”.
We had good reasons for wanting to run the Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon. My husband, Ed, and I had just finished running the New York City Marathon in November the year before, and our best friend and training partner, Larry, hadn’t made it into the lottery. We wanted to run a marathon with Larry—close to home so it wouldn’t be too expensive, and in the spring before it got too hot. The OKC Memorial Marathon is run in memory of the 168 victims of the bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building on April 19, 1995. Their names are emblazoned on banners that hang from lampposts during the first few miles of the run. For that reason, it is billed as “A Run to Remember.” We found it memorable in more ways than one!
We started our training after the Christmas holidays when we are usually fat and happy. From January until mid-April we increased our weekly Saturday runs from 10 miles to 22 miles in addition to running 4 to 5 miles three times a week. Unfortunately (or fortunately as it turned out) for Larry, his knee started giving him problems and he had to withdraw near the final stages of the training. Initially Larry had planned to drive us to OKC and be our support; but when we discovered that a group from the Dallas Running Club had chartered a bus, we decided to let Larry completely off the hook and go it alone.
On the morning of April 25th, our daughter, Katie, drove us to the bus where our adventure was to begin. Ed and I had planned to join the Dallas Running Club years ago but somehow had never gotten around to it. One of my reasons was that I thought every DRC member ran a sub 4-hour Marathon and I thought we would feel out-of-place. I was surprised to discover that some of the people on the bus actually thought we were fast. It was a welcome surprise and one that made me feel especially comfortable around this former group of total strangers. Additionally and almost immediately, we met Ram, another person who appeared to know absolutely no one. Coincidentally, he teaches finance to graduate students at the Cox Business School at SMU. I have worked for the Cox family for 18 years and Ed is a financial analyst—a perfect example of synchronicity.
The ride from Dallas to Oklahoma City was pleasant talking to Ram and Libby. Libby was sitting behind us and had arranged the bus trip—she was in charge. There would be other DRC marathon trips in the future, possibly even one to San Antonio in the fall—our next scheduled marathon. When we arrived in OKC, it took nearly an hour to shuttle everyone to their respective hotels—ours was about 6 miles from downtown. We were there only long enough to grab a snack before the bus was back to take us to the Expo and Pasta Dinner.
The Expo was lame compared to New York City’s. I was surprised at how little Official OKC Marathon merchandise there was. We were also disappointed at the lack of freebies—not even any food let alone merchandise. I ended up buying a pair of blister-proof socks which, in hindsight, didn’t work at all.
At 6:00 p.m. our group met at the Renaissance Hotel to walk over to the dinner en masse. The dinner was held outdoors at the Memorial—the same place the race was to start the next morning. Although the food was pretty bad and definitely not worth ten bucks, it did give us a chance to explore the Memorial again and relive its quiet elegance. We had visited it about four years ago when our daughter, Ali, had a gymnastics meet at the University of Oklahoma. It is truly a monument to honor those who lost their lives in a senseless act and give hope to those living with its aftermath. We almost didn’t make it back to the bus we were so immersed in its serenity.
Back at our hotel, we prepared for the race. We laid out clothes, numbers, chips and shoes and turned in early as our alarm would wake us at 4:30 a.m. Busses were scheduled to shuttle us to the start beginning at 5:00 a.m. We figured if we boarded at 5:15 a.m., we wouldn’t have time for the free pancake breakfast provided by a neighborhood church, but we should have plenty of time to use the porta-potties before making it to the starting line. Those were “the best-laid plans of mice and men”.
The Marathon was scheduled to start at 6:30 a.m. When we got to the shuttle stop, there were roughly 15 other runners waiting; by 5:35, there were more like 60. We were panicking. Even if the bus came quickly, we were afraid we wouldn’t all fit. If anyone at all were on the bus already, some runners would be left waiting for the next bus. As fate would have it, we met two guys from Ft. Worth who had a car and invited us to ride with them. We were downtown, parked and through the potty line in a jiffy. As we shoved our way to our pace group leaders, we heard the National Anthem being sung. We couldn’t have timed it better!
The first few miles of the race were hot—it was 72 degrees with 80% humidity and the wind we had felt earlier while waiting for the bus had blown away (or so we thought). We found out later that the race was completely sold out—the marathon, the half, and the relays—bringing the total number of runners to roughly 19,000. We were thankful the sun wasn’t shining as that would have made it hotter, and thankful it wasn’t raining as we had heard it might. We were running in the 4:45 pace group and, for awhile anyway, it seemed perfect. I was glad that Ed and I were running together—we were enjoying the scenery and the feel of the pavement under our feet.
I had studied the course map some but, as I didn’t know the City, I wasn’t sure where we were most of the time. I knew we were running out to Lake Hefner and back—but that was about the extent of it. I was bothered by the narrowness of the streets and the crowding of the runners. It was difficult to stay behind the pace leaders but I was determined. I knew at some point the half marathoners would peel off and things would loosen up. We ran through downtown and Bricktown (home of the Oklahoma City Red Hawks). About 4 or 5 miles into the run, we were in an industrial area of the City heading straight for what seemed like miles. I turned my head at just the right time to see the Oklahoma City Ballet Company. As a former ballerina myself, I smiled at another seeming coincidence.
The Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon reminded me of the Dallas White Rock Marathon in many ways. As in Dallas, we ran through many parks and up many busy streets, sectioned off by orange rubber cones. Spectators were mostly waiting for friends and family members—some with signs. I don’t think many folks were there only to enjoy the show like in New York City. We also ran through neighborhoods where families sat on lawn chairs encouraging passing runners or offering treats. There were times when our pace leaders seemed to race ahead and I had trouble catching back up with them. But there were more times when they seemed to be running at just the right, comfortable pace. There were hills but they weren’t insurmountable. I felt pretty good. Little did I know that was all about to change?
The closer we got to the Lake, the steeper the hills and the stronger the wind. At some point near halfway or mile 13.1, I noticed Ed was no longer with me. The course made a loop to run alongside the Lake and I saw Ed a few minutes behind me, struggling with his head down. I called to him but he didn’t look up. I knew he was miserable because, as much as I hate wind, Ed hates it even more. I probably should have waited for him but I was still attempting to stay with the pace group although it was becoming increasingly difficult. In fact for the next couple of miles, I watched as their yellow balloons disappeared in the distance. The wind was not letting up; if anything it was becoming fiercer. Soon after that, however, I had a different challenge—I got a migraine!
I have been getting migraines most of my adult life; they started when I was in high school. I have had migraines while running a few times; but I usually take an over-the-counter medication after I finish my run and they go away. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any pills with me—that’s the last time I will run a long run without them. Migraines affect every sufferer differently. For approximately 20% of people, an aura precedes the headache. I get the most common aura which according to Medicine.Net is described as “flashing, brightly colored lights in a zigzag pattern known as fortification spectra”. No matter what it’s called, it is annoying to run without being able to see clearly. All I could do is pray it would go away.
So as I struggled to see and as I fought against the wind, I took deep breaths and prayed. I didn’t want to fail to finish—I guess that was my biggest fear. I realized it wouldn’t be the end-of-the-world, but I would be disappointed. I had never started a marathon I didn’t finish. Thankfully, after about 4 miles, the aura went away as mysteriously as it had come. I was elated—no matter how difficult it would be, I would finish! That kept me going despite the 30 mph wind in my face while I was running uphill.
The last 5 or 6 miles were grueling. Along one portion of the route that was especially steep and windy, spectators were yelling for the runners to walk and save their strength. It was true that one could walk nearly as fast as one could run—but without as much effort. I must say that I walked more in this marathon than I had in New York. But even when walking, at least I was going in the right direction. I started eating pretzels at the water stops because I realized I had probably lost a lot of salt. Again, that was a wise decision. I was able to delay my leg cramps until after I finished—and boy did I get a doozy.
At last the finish line was in sight; the agony was almost over. I crossed it with my arms raised high and a grin from ear-to-ear. I savored the moment. The medal was placed around my neck and I felt like an Olympian. My time was 5:02:29—not my goal of 4:45 but only 4 minutes slower than my NYC Marathon. Without the wind, I am sure I could have done much better. Only I knew what challenges I had faced and had conquered. I wolfed down a Carl’s Jr. Cheeseburger and some cookies; I scooped up a stylish forest green Finisher shirt, and I ran into Ed. He had finished only minutes after I did. Ram didn’t fare as well; although even with debilitating leg cramps, he finished in a respectable time.
At the absolutely perfect moment, a young man pedaling a bicycle rickshaw arrived to wisk us to the bus that took us back to our hotel to shower and check-out. The bus was farther away from the finish line than we thought and time was running short before we had to be back downtown to catch the DRC bus back home. Once on the shuttle, I noticed my feet were hurting. When I took off my shoes, my toes were a swollen and bloody mess. I think I will probably lose four toenails but it was well worth it. The bus ride back to Dallas was heaven. A couple of the blessed DRC runners handed out icy Shiners and Coronas. I had a peaceful, contented feeling that comes only after a hard-fought fight. In a few days, we would start training for San Antonio. In our minds, the 2009 Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon was definitely “A Run to Remember”.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
DALLAS WHITE ROCK MARATHON – December 9, 2007
I couldn’t believe I was actually doing it. I was doing a marathon—again. I was surprised because I had done two marathons years ago—one when I was 40 and one when I was 45. My husband, Ed, had run 5 marathons including New York City. I swore I would never do another one as I felt it was just too damaging to my old body. And here I was at 57—12 years later. What was I thinking?
Ed, has a friend named, Larry, who has been talking about doing a marathon since he started running about 2 years ago. Larry has never been athletic and doesn’t exactly have a runner’s body. Larry had been doing 5 and 6-mile runs consistently but that was the extent of it. Ed consented to take Larry on and train him to run the 26.2 miles in December. I was just along for the ride. I was skeptical when I met Larry on our first White Rock Lake Loop in mid-summer. The Loop is 9.3 miles or 15k and Larry struggled with the distance. Once he started walking, he had a hard time starting back up again. The trick was to get Larry to run further before he walked.
As the weeks ticked by, Larry’s will power kicked into high gear. We walked less and ran more. We ran races—Larry’s first ever was the 5k Elvis Run. We ran the 20k Tour de Fleur, Half Marathon, 25k Waterworks and 30k Big D. The weeks we didn’t do races, we ran the 9.3 Loop or the 10.5 Northwest Highway Loop. I had never run the 25k or 30k. In fact, after my marathon 12 years ago, I had never run more than the 13.1 half marathon distance. But I felt like Larry needed the company, the companionship and the cheerleader. Ed is stronger and faster than Larry and me, so, when we were being timed, he didn’t run with us. I felt like Larry needed someone rooting for him, someone helping him push himself.
The 30k or 18.6 mile distance was a real challenge. Larry and I ended up talking and walking for so long that it was difficult for me to finish. At that point, I decided I would run the Half Marathon as usual and then drive out to the course, find Larry, and run in with him. I knew he would need the help most at the end. But my friend Janice explained that logistically that would be very difficult. With little parking close to the route, how would I be able to park and find Larry? I decided to try to do the 21 mile run that Ed and Larry were doing 2 weeks before the Marathon. That was to be their longest training run. I would make my decision after that.
The morning after Thanksgiving, the weather was merciless. It was raining pretty steadily with the temperature hovering around 40. It was to be a real test. The camaraderie of our little group definitely helped. I realized that Larry and I had become good friends. Larry’s sunny disposition, despite dire circumstances, buoyed my spirits. “What a wonderful day” was Larry’s remark rain or shine. It was refreshing and it kept me going. Of course, it was always comforting to have Ed by my side. We began our run at 8:00 a.m. and didn’t finish until after 1:00 p.m. Nonetheless it was a successful run. We had made the distance. We had a congratulatory breakfast and talked marathon strategies. I had made my decision. I was going to attempt another marathon.
Larry and Ed came down to pick me up from work on Friday night so we could go to the Marathon Expo and pick up our chips and packets. Ed and I usually go to the Expo on Saturday afternoon but Friday night was definitely a better time to go. It wasn’t crowded at all. We even got a free $25 shirt that said “Training for White Rock Marathon 2007” on the back. I guess no one would be buying those anymore. There was a stack of about 100 of them and I imagine, when they were gone, they were gone. We had gotten free socks in the past but nothing as nice as this. We felt very lucky to get the shirts as it helped defray the $95 each it cost to enter the Marathon. Our official Dallas White Rock Marathon long-sleeve T-shirt was in the packet that we picked up, but it wasn’t made out of the special wicking material the free shirt was.
Aside from the shirt, the Expo was a little lame this year. There was hardly any free food and no free drinks except little samples of fruit drinks that were supposed to make you feel energetic. We bought lots of Gu—which would end up being our breakfast and lunch on the day of the Marathon. They also had something new this year that Larry and I especially liked—jelly beans. They came in 3 flavors and were made out of the same energy-inducing mixture that’s in Gu. I bought a fanny pack to hold all the Gu and Larry and Ed bought matching running shorts—only because they were the cheapest ones they could find. I saw a girl from “Run On” who was featured in an article in the Dallas Morning News a few days before. She’s my age and only started running again in January after years of inactivity. She used to be an elite runner when she was in her early 20’s before she got married and had kids. Since January, she lost over 100 pounds just by getting back into running.
Saturday we didn’t do much at all. We tried to conserve our energy. Our office party was at 6:00 p.m. at Berry and Jeanne’s. When we got there, I slugged down a few glasses of $56/bottle Chardonnay. I know it cost that much because I ordered it. I knew it was going to be hard to be good but I had to. I didn’t want to be dehydrated and hung over on Sunday morning. After everyone arrived, we piled out of the house and into a horse-drawn carriage to view the lights of Highland Park. This is the part of Dallas where the super rich live and their money was on display. People come from all over every year just to see the lights and decorations. There were cars lined up and down the street because people had gotten out of their cars with their kids to get a closer look. As we rode along, Berry pointed out which house belonged to whom. We went by Jerry Jones’ house (the owner of the Cowboys’), Troy Aikman’s (former Cowboy quarterback), Bunker Hunt’s (of the Hunt Brothers) ARod’s (a famous bseball player) and many others’ who I recognized but don’t remember. The weather couldn’t have been better. It was a warm 65-70 degree night.
After we got back to Berry’s about an hour later, we all trooped upstairs to see the game room turned media room. Now that the kids are grown and have moved out, the pool table, dart board, etc. are gone and a luxurious 3-sided couch is in its place. The high-def TV on the wall resembles a movie screen. Jeanne told us that they don’t even want to go to the movies anymore because the quality of films pales in comparison to high-def. I guess once you get used to it, it’s hard to settle for anything less. I guess I better not get used to it. They also put in a small wine cellar that’s behind glass doors and contains many cases of fine wine—most of which I’ve ordered for them. Dinner was unbelievable. Berry’s new chef fixed everything. He made medallions of pork, potato burritos, broccoli pie, carrots, salad and rolls. For dessert we had warm apple turnovers with vanilla bean ice cream. That’s livin’!! The best part about it was I could eat to my heart’s content. After all, I was running 26 miles the next day.
The weather turned sharply during the night. By morning it was in the low 40’s and raining. That would definitely mean fewer spectators, but aside from that, it was a welcome relief. The race directors were worried about a repeat of the Chicago Marathon which was called off half way through because of so many heatstroke casualties. We got up at 5:45 and prepared to leave by 6:30 when Larry would arrive. I wore my A&M long-sleeved T-shirt—even though it was cotton and I had many breathable ones. I figured I would get a lot of support from Aggie alums and I did. I also wore my Lady Foot Locker running jacket to keep from getting soaked. Larry was right on time so we left with Katie for the 20 minute drive downtown to the American Airlines Arena where the race started. Katie had volunteered to work the finish line for Friday’s Restaurant, one of the race sponsors. She would get Community service hours that she can list on her college application.
The White Rock Marathon has really grown in recent years. Back in 1990, when I first ran it, the marathon was all there was. There was no Half Marathon and no relays. Now they cap the field at 5,000 marathoners, 6,000 half marathoners and 3,000 relay race runners. Perhaps that’s why the traffic was so horrendous getting into the arena. The cushion of time we thought we had quickly dwindled. We inched forward for a good 45 minutes before we finally landed in our parking spot. At that point we were 25 minutes to zero hour. We bolted for the arena and the inside bathrooms before realizing there was a line a mile long. Everyone had to go through a metal detector to get into the building and it was slowing things down considerably. Once inside, there was another line at the ladies’ room. Believe it or not we finished, ran out to the start and found our pace balloons, just as the gun went off.
Let me explain about pace groups. When I ran my first marathon, there was no such thing. Now, it’s big business. There are pacers that live all over the country. They work (if you can call it that) for Clif Bar who doesn’t pay them but who pays all their expenses to run marathons. My pacer, Sharon, had run 63 marathons. Ed signed up for the 5 hour pace group and Larry and I for the 5 ½ hour group. Technically, you don’t need to sign up and you can drop out of or join a pace group at any time. The pacer will keep his/her group on pace to finish the marathon in the time indicated. Our leader looked at her watch constantly. We ran for 5 minutes and walked 1 minute continuously. If we ran too fast, we walked more to stay on our 12:37/mile pace. We did that for the entire 26 miles and it made my marathon easy and fun. My friend, Janice, has run with pace groups for years. She is 61 years old and does the White Rock Marathon every year. I never understood before I tried it why it made such a difference.
Basically the race started downtown. We ran through the West End, past the YMCA and up Olive to McKinney. We passed by the building where I work, passed restaurants where we eat on Fridays, and areas that we visit on our daily lunch runs. We ran through Turtle Creek and then up into Highland Park—the area we had ridden through the night before. I stopped to use the restroom at one of the water stations. That’s tricky because the group won’t stop for anyone. You run ahead as much as you can and then catch up afterward. That was my one-and-only bathroom stop and I’m glad I didn’t have to do that again. The spectators were few and far between downtown but picked up quite a bit through this area. People came out of their houses and waved and shouted. Some people had their kids lined up on the curb—all bundled up—shouting words of encouragement. This was one of the best parts of the Marathon. We still felt fresh.
We got to know some of the people in our pace group. Janice ran with us as did J.B. who I’ve run with for years. I often ran the first part of the Half Marathon with J.B. when he was running the full Marathon. He used to be pretty fast but now he has arthritis in his knees and he had trouble keeping up. Of course, Larry was always at my side. Larry is a real card but super, super nice. He talks to anyone and everyone and he’s always upbeat. We talked with two girls from Idaho. Their husbands were on bikes and kept stopping to take pictures of them. One of the girls was named DeAnn. She said people used to call her Dean in grade school so she made the A capital and it stopped. There were quite a few older people in our group—one lady who was running her first marathon at age 60. The pace group leader kept us going. She sang a bunch of songs that I think she made up. They were like army songs where the leader says one thing and everybody repeats it. Ed said his pace leader didn’t sing at all.
After going through Highland Park, we made our way to Central Expressway and passed by the building where every Monday night we have our Families Anonymous meeting. After that it was up to the Granada Theatre on Greenville and through more neighborhoods that were less affluent. By mile 9 we were very close to White Rock Lake and by mile 10 we were there. White Rock is where 80% of the people running the Marathon train. We were on very familiar ground. We passed the paddle boats, the construction, the trees that always smell of bird droppings and down under the bridge where we had stopped so Larry could have a wardrobe adjustment during our 21 mile training run. Then it was up to Northwest Highway and back down toward the Lake and the 13.1 halfway point.
Psychologically I always feel better after the halfway point of any race or training run. I started to perk up. I started to feel like I really could finish. I started to enjoy the feel of my feet hitting the pavement and the scenery at the Lake. I noticed it felt like it was getting colder. I put my jacket back on—hiding my A&M T-shirt. We kept on plugging—past the yacht clubs, the Bath House and Winfrey Point where many of our previous races had started and finished. We turned up Garland Road, past the spillway and then made the turn that leads to the dreaded Dolly Partons.
You can probably guess what the Dolly Parton hills are—and they’re not fun, especially at mile 20. The beer is always right before you go into the first hill. It’s tradition. I downed a small tumbler full and toasted my old runnin’ buddy, Greggy, like I told him I would. The guys with the fake boobs were in their usual spot passing out water. Our pace leader kept us going and, miraculously, the hills weren’t that difficult. There were a few more uphill grades but the spectators kept reminding us that the next 5 miles of Swiss Avenue were all downhill. Besides we were back in the neighborhoods and the well-wishers were plentiful.
We kept on truckin’ and kept singing with Sharon. We were ticking off the miles. We came to the beloved Snickers bar water stop. By that time, I was sick to death of Gu and oranges and wanted something more substantial. Snickers bars cut into bite-sized pieces did the trick. We could see downtown Dallas getting closer and closer. We brought more people into our little group but also many dropped out. Some of our original group, like DeAnn, ran ahead. We noticed that we hadn’t seen J.B. for some time. I think he dropped out before we left the Lake. Some people were joining us, happy to have found someone to lead them to the finish line.
Finally we entered downtown. We only had about 2 miles to go. We ran past many familiar sites—Old City Park, Chase Tower where I used to work, the Art Museum and the YMCA. We were horses smelling the barn. At one point I looked up and was surprised and happy to see Ed. He was walking with a guy he introduced to me as Manny. Ed’s hip was bothering him so he had dropped back from his pace group at the Lake. Manny had picked him up and became his cheerleader, urging him to keep going despite the pain.
Ed, Larry and I were zeroing in on the finish line. People lined the road on both sides. Larry’s wife, Dorothy, was standing under a tree, waving and shouting. Larry’s two kids ran out onto the road, running alongside him, urging him to run faster. Ed, Larry and I ran side-by-side. When we got to the finish line, we crossed under it, all grins, holding hands with arms raised. Flash bulbs erupted, saving the moment for posterity. We had done it!!
Katie was there to meet us at the finish. She was all smiles although numb, after 6 hours of being out in the cold and nearly freezing rain. When you’re running, your body generates heat. Not so when you’re sitting on the cold concrete, clipping chips off runners’ shoes. We were wrapped in a thermal sheet by a kindly volunteer and given a Finisher’s Cap by another. Ed, Larry and I went to get our picture taken, weary but smiling.
By the time we got there, the after-race party was nearly over. Most of the food was gone and so was the beer. We did manage to get a little pasta salad but we were cold and still very hungry. Starbucks sounded just right so, after hobbling around to find Katie, we headed there. The white chocolate mocha and egg-salad sandwich really hit the spot. We sat and basked in our glory.
Ed, has a friend named, Larry, who has been talking about doing a marathon since he started running about 2 years ago. Larry has never been athletic and doesn’t exactly have a runner’s body. Larry had been doing 5 and 6-mile runs consistently but that was the extent of it. Ed consented to take Larry on and train him to run the 26.2 miles in December. I was just along for the ride. I was skeptical when I met Larry on our first White Rock Lake Loop in mid-summer. The Loop is 9.3 miles or 15k and Larry struggled with the distance. Once he started walking, he had a hard time starting back up again. The trick was to get Larry to run further before he walked.
As the weeks ticked by, Larry’s will power kicked into high gear. We walked less and ran more. We ran races—Larry’s first ever was the 5k Elvis Run. We ran the 20k Tour de Fleur, Half Marathon, 25k Waterworks and 30k Big D. The weeks we didn’t do races, we ran the 9.3 Loop or the 10.5 Northwest Highway Loop. I had never run the 25k or 30k. In fact, after my marathon 12 years ago, I had never run more than the 13.1 half marathon distance. But I felt like Larry needed the company, the companionship and the cheerleader. Ed is stronger and faster than Larry and me, so, when we were being timed, he didn’t run with us. I felt like Larry needed someone rooting for him, someone helping him push himself.
The 30k or 18.6 mile distance was a real challenge. Larry and I ended up talking and walking for so long that it was difficult for me to finish. At that point, I decided I would run the Half Marathon as usual and then drive out to the course, find Larry, and run in with him. I knew he would need the help most at the end. But my friend Janice explained that logistically that would be very difficult. With little parking close to the route, how would I be able to park and find Larry? I decided to try to do the 21 mile run that Ed and Larry were doing 2 weeks before the Marathon. That was to be their longest training run. I would make my decision after that.
The morning after Thanksgiving, the weather was merciless. It was raining pretty steadily with the temperature hovering around 40. It was to be a real test. The camaraderie of our little group definitely helped. I realized that Larry and I had become good friends. Larry’s sunny disposition, despite dire circumstances, buoyed my spirits. “What a wonderful day” was Larry’s remark rain or shine. It was refreshing and it kept me going. Of course, it was always comforting to have Ed by my side. We began our run at 8:00 a.m. and didn’t finish until after 1:00 p.m. Nonetheless it was a successful run. We had made the distance. We had a congratulatory breakfast and talked marathon strategies. I had made my decision. I was going to attempt another marathon.
Larry and Ed came down to pick me up from work on Friday night so we could go to the Marathon Expo and pick up our chips and packets. Ed and I usually go to the Expo on Saturday afternoon but Friday night was definitely a better time to go. It wasn’t crowded at all. We even got a free $25 shirt that said “Training for White Rock Marathon 2007” on the back. I guess no one would be buying those anymore. There was a stack of about 100 of them and I imagine, when they were gone, they were gone. We had gotten free socks in the past but nothing as nice as this. We felt very lucky to get the shirts as it helped defray the $95 each it cost to enter the Marathon. Our official Dallas White Rock Marathon long-sleeve T-shirt was in the packet that we picked up, but it wasn’t made out of the special wicking material the free shirt was.
Aside from the shirt, the Expo was a little lame this year. There was hardly any free food and no free drinks except little samples of fruit drinks that were supposed to make you feel energetic. We bought lots of Gu—which would end up being our breakfast and lunch on the day of the Marathon. They also had something new this year that Larry and I especially liked—jelly beans. They came in 3 flavors and were made out of the same energy-inducing mixture that’s in Gu. I bought a fanny pack to hold all the Gu and Larry and Ed bought matching running shorts—only because they were the cheapest ones they could find. I saw a girl from “Run On” who was featured in an article in the Dallas Morning News a few days before. She’s my age and only started running again in January after years of inactivity. She used to be an elite runner when she was in her early 20’s before she got married and had kids. Since January, she lost over 100 pounds just by getting back into running.
Saturday we didn’t do much at all. We tried to conserve our energy. Our office party was at 6:00 p.m. at Berry and Jeanne’s. When we got there, I slugged down a few glasses of $56/bottle Chardonnay. I know it cost that much because I ordered it. I knew it was going to be hard to be good but I had to. I didn’t want to be dehydrated and hung over on Sunday morning. After everyone arrived, we piled out of the house and into a horse-drawn carriage to view the lights of Highland Park. This is the part of Dallas where the super rich live and their money was on display. People come from all over every year just to see the lights and decorations. There were cars lined up and down the street because people had gotten out of their cars with their kids to get a closer look. As we rode along, Berry pointed out which house belonged to whom. We went by Jerry Jones’ house (the owner of the Cowboys’), Troy Aikman’s (former Cowboy quarterback), Bunker Hunt’s (of the Hunt Brothers) ARod’s (a famous bseball player) and many others’ who I recognized but don’t remember. The weather couldn’t have been better. It was a warm 65-70 degree night.
After we got back to Berry’s about an hour later, we all trooped upstairs to see the game room turned media room. Now that the kids are grown and have moved out, the pool table, dart board, etc. are gone and a luxurious 3-sided couch is in its place. The high-def TV on the wall resembles a movie screen. Jeanne told us that they don’t even want to go to the movies anymore because the quality of films pales in comparison to high-def. I guess once you get used to it, it’s hard to settle for anything less. I guess I better not get used to it. They also put in a small wine cellar that’s behind glass doors and contains many cases of fine wine—most of which I’ve ordered for them. Dinner was unbelievable. Berry’s new chef fixed everything. He made medallions of pork, potato burritos, broccoli pie, carrots, salad and rolls. For dessert we had warm apple turnovers with vanilla bean ice cream. That’s livin’!! The best part about it was I could eat to my heart’s content. After all, I was running 26 miles the next day.
The weather turned sharply during the night. By morning it was in the low 40’s and raining. That would definitely mean fewer spectators, but aside from that, it was a welcome relief. The race directors were worried about a repeat of the Chicago Marathon which was called off half way through because of so many heatstroke casualties. We got up at 5:45 and prepared to leave by 6:30 when Larry would arrive. I wore my A&M long-sleeved T-shirt—even though it was cotton and I had many breathable ones. I figured I would get a lot of support from Aggie alums and I did. I also wore my Lady Foot Locker running jacket to keep from getting soaked. Larry was right on time so we left with Katie for the 20 minute drive downtown to the American Airlines Arena where the race started. Katie had volunteered to work the finish line for Friday’s Restaurant, one of the race sponsors. She would get Community service hours that she can list on her college application.
The White Rock Marathon has really grown in recent years. Back in 1990, when I first ran it, the marathon was all there was. There was no Half Marathon and no relays. Now they cap the field at 5,000 marathoners, 6,000 half marathoners and 3,000 relay race runners. Perhaps that’s why the traffic was so horrendous getting into the arena. The cushion of time we thought we had quickly dwindled. We inched forward for a good 45 minutes before we finally landed in our parking spot. At that point we were 25 minutes to zero hour. We bolted for the arena and the inside bathrooms before realizing there was a line a mile long. Everyone had to go through a metal detector to get into the building and it was slowing things down considerably. Once inside, there was another line at the ladies’ room. Believe it or not we finished, ran out to the start and found our pace balloons, just as the gun went off.
Let me explain about pace groups. When I ran my first marathon, there was no such thing. Now, it’s big business. There are pacers that live all over the country. They work (if you can call it that) for Clif Bar who doesn’t pay them but who pays all their expenses to run marathons. My pacer, Sharon, had run 63 marathons. Ed signed up for the 5 hour pace group and Larry and I for the 5 ½ hour group. Technically, you don’t need to sign up and you can drop out of or join a pace group at any time. The pacer will keep his/her group on pace to finish the marathon in the time indicated. Our leader looked at her watch constantly. We ran for 5 minutes and walked 1 minute continuously. If we ran too fast, we walked more to stay on our 12:37/mile pace. We did that for the entire 26 miles and it made my marathon easy and fun. My friend, Janice, has run with pace groups for years. She is 61 years old and does the White Rock Marathon every year. I never understood before I tried it why it made such a difference.
Basically the race started downtown. We ran through the West End, past the YMCA and up Olive to McKinney. We passed by the building where I work, passed restaurants where we eat on Fridays, and areas that we visit on our daily lunch runs. We ran through Turtle Creek and then up into Highland Park—the area we had ridden through the night before. I stopped to use the restroom at one of the water stations. That’s tricky because the group won’t stop for anyone. You run ahead as much as you can and then catch up afterward. That was my one-and-only bathroom stop and I’m glad I didn’t have to do that again. The spectators were few and far between downtown but picked up quite a bit through this area. People came out of their houses and waved and shouted. Some people had their kids lined up on the curb—all bundled up—shouting words of encouragement. This was one of the best parts of the Marathon. We still felt fresh.
We got to know some of the people in our pace group. Janice ran with us as did J.B. who I’ve run with for years. I often ran the first part of the Half Marathon with J.B. when he was running the full Marathon. He used to be pretty fast but now he has arthritis in his knees and he had trouble keeping up. Of course, Larry was always at my side. Larry is a real card but super, super nice. He talks to anyone and everyone and he’s always upbeat. We talked with two girls from Idaho. Their husbands were on bikes and kept stopping to take pictures of them. One of the girls was named DeAnn. She said people used to call her Dean in grade school so she made the A capital and it stopped. There were quite a few older people in our group—one lady who was running her first marathon at age 60. The pace group leader kept us going. She sang a bunch of songs that I think she made up. They were like army songs where the leader says one thing and everybody repeats it. Ed said his pace leader didn’t sing at all.
After going through Highland Park, we made our way to Central Expressway and passed by the building where every Monday night we have our Families Anonymous meeting. After that it was up to the Granada Theatre on Greenville and through more neighborhoods that were less affluent. By mile 9 we were very close to White Rock Lake and by mile 10 we were there. White Rock is where 80% of the people running the Marathon train. We were on very familiar ground. We passed the paddle boats, the construction, the trees that always smell of bird droppings and down under the bridge where we had stopped so Larry could have a wardrobe adjustment during our 21 mile training run. Then it was up to Northwest Highway and back down toward the Lake and the 13.1 halfway point.
Psychologically I always feel better after the halfway point of any race or training run. I started to perk up. I started to feel like I really could finish. I started to enjoy the feel of my feet hitting the pavement and the scenery at the Lake. I noticed it felt like it was getting colder. I put my jacket back on—hiding my A&M T-shirt. We kept on plugging—past the yacht clubs, the Bath House and Winfrey Point where many of our previous races had started and finished. We turned up Garland Road, past the spillway and then made the turn that leads to the dreaded Dolly Partons.
You can probably guess what the Dolly Parton hills are—and they’re not fun, especially at mile 20. The beer is always right before you go into the first hill. It’s tradition. I downed a small tumbler full and toasted my old runnin’ buddy, Greggy, like I told him I would. The guys with the fake boobs were in their usual spot passing out water. Our pace leader kept us going and, miraculously, the hills weren’t that difficult. There were a few more uphill grades but the spectators kept reminding us that the next 5 miles of Swiss Avenue were all downhill. Besides we were back in the neighborhoods and the well-wishers were plentiful.
We kept on truckin’ and kept singing with Sharon. We were ticking off the miles. We came to the beloved Snickers bar water stop. By that time, I was sick to death of Gu and oranges and wanted something more substantial. Snickers bars cut into bite-sized pieces did the trick. We could see downtown Dallas getting closer and closer. We brought more people into our little group but also many dropped out. Some of our original group, like DeAnn, ran ahead. We noticed that we hadn’t seen J.B. for some time. I think he dropped out before we left the Lake. Some people were joining us, happy to have found someone to lead them to the finish line.
Finally we entered downtown. We only had about 2 miles to go. We ran past many familiar sites—Old City Park, Chase Tower where I used to work, the Art Museum and the YMCA. We were horses smelling the barn. At one point I looked up and was surprised and happy to see Ed. He was walking with a guy he introduced to me as Manny. Ed’s hip was bothering him so he had dropped back from his pace group at the Lake. Manny had picked him up and became his cheerleader, urging him to keep going despite the pain.
Ed, Larry and I were zeroing in on the finish line. People lined the road on both sides. Larry’s wife, Dorothy, was standing under a tree, waving and shouting. Larry’s two kids ran out onto the road, running alongside him, urging him to run faster. Ed, Larry and I ran side-by-side. When we got to the finish line, we crossed under it, all grins, holding hands with arms raised. Flash bulbs erupted, saving the moment for posterity. We had done it!!
Katie was there to meet us at the finish. She was all smiles although numb, after 6 hours of being out in the cold and nearly freezing rain. When you’re running, your body generates heat. Not so when you’re sitting on the cold concrete, clipping chips off runners’ shoes. We were wrapped in a thermal sheet by a kindly volunteer and given a Finisher’s Cap by another. Ed, Larry and I went to get our picture taken, weary but smiling.
By the time we got there, the after-race party was nearly over. Most of the food was gone and so was the beer. We did manage to get a little pasta salad but we were cold and still very hungry. Starbucks sounded just right so, after hobbling around to find Katie, we headed there. The white chocolate mocha and egg-salad sandwich really hit the spot. We sat and basked in our glory.
MY NYC MARATHON 2008 @ 58
Here I was 58 years old and planning to do the New York City Marathon. Half the time I thought I must be crazy—the other half the time the idea seemed as natural as deciding to go to the grocery store. I had done two marathons earlier in my life—one when I was 40and the other when I was 45. They were both White Rock Marathons run in my hometown of Dallas, Texas. During my second marathon, I did some damage to my left knee that had never healed. Also during that marathon I vowed never to do another one, and I had kept my promise for nearly 12 years. Now I felt I had to make up for lost time.
The summer before last, my husband, Ed, and I started running with his friend, Larry. Larry was not a runner and had only started running a year earlier, but he got it in his head that he wanted to do a marathon. So Ed and I decided to help him train. In the beginning, I thought he’d never make it; but Larry surprised me more often than not. I became so involved in his training that I started running longer than the half marathons I had limited myself to.
My big breakthrough came when I discovered the patella strap. I don’t know how long these have been around but I don’t remember seeing anyone wearing one when I ran my earlier marathons. They are basically stretchable straps worn around your leg under your knee. They help spread the impact that the knee gets upon contact with the ground. After I started wearing one, I found that I could run much further pain free.
So after running a 30k with Larry, I decided to sign up once more for the White Rock Marathon only a few months away. A recent discovery that we used to our advantage during this marathon was the pace group. Running with a pace group keeps you from running too fast at the beginning of the race thus ensuring that you have something left at the end. We wisely and conservatively decided on a 5 hour and 30 minute pace group. When the day came, we had no trouble running the whole 26.2 miles. I rediscovered why people run marathons. I was hooked once again.
Ed had run the New York City Marathon back in 2002, the year after 9/11. He still spoke of that experience as one of the highlights of his life. Now that I was “running marathons again”, I figured why not try it. Larry was in too so we sent in our applications in early February. The first hurdle was the lottery to be held in early June. Much to my elation, at the appropriate time I got an email that my number had been chosen. Much to my dismay, I later learned that Ed’s and Larry’s hadn’t been.
Over the next couple of months, I did everything I could think of to get Ed in. I looked up many charities which, with a donation, would award a marathon spot. With that alternative we were looking at a minimum of $2,500 just for the entry alone—way out of our budget. I even went to the CFO at my job and asked him to petition my boss for the donation. I later learned my boss just laughed it off—I guess he didn’t think we were serious. Finally, at the suggestion of my runner friend, Janice, I sent an email to the NYC Marathon Race Director. I didn’t get a reply.
Meanwhile, Ed, Larry and I were training hard. I, of course, was the most motivated since I was guaranteed a marathon. Ed and Larry discussed doing the San Antonio Rock ‘n Roll Marathon two weeks after New York but no decision was made. We started after Memorial Day getting our weekly long runs up to 12 miles. It took us until the end of June to feel comfortable with that distance. The first week of August we ran 14 miles and then increased our mileage by 2 miles every other week. On the off weeks, we did 12 or 13. Our longest run was 22 miles two weeks before New York.
We got into a comfortable routine. Larry would knock on our door at 6:00 a.m. Saturday and we would start our runs at White Rock Lake by 6:30 a.m. About mid-way through our training we had all adopted running with MP3 Players to cut down on the boredom. We kept the music low so we could still carry on a conversation; but more often than not, one of us would break into song when a particular favorite came up in the rotation.
I must say that the camaraderie was exceptional. Larry often acted as a buffer between me and Ed when we were especially tired or cranky. Ed always seemed to be in a better mood with Larry around as Larry is one of those special people who live in the moment. He has a stop-and-smell-the-roses-type of personality that reminds me I want more of that. He also frequently talks to animals—birds, squirrels, ducks, etc.—actions that often cause other runners on the trail to look at him suspiciously. I often call him certifiable. After the weekly Saturday runs we go to Starbucks, Einstein Bagels or Café Brazil. That was always the very best part of the week and made me extremely grateful that I could run and do it with two such wonderful men.
Almost from the beginning of the year, I knew I wanted to lose weight. After Christmas, I was up to 148 pounds and not liking “the new me” at all. I know it is common to gain weight as you get older and your metabolism slows, but I was determined not to be like everybody else. I had tried a number of diets that didn’t work. The one thing I hadn’t tried was counting calories. The website www.thedailyplate.com made it easy—and best of all it worked. I lost 20 pounds from February to November. Imagine running with a 20-pound weight that is gradually reduced to nothing. That’s exactly how it felt. Running became fun again.
I can’t remember when exactly I got the email—I just remember it was after my third try. Ed was IN!! I couldn’t believe our good fortune. Our dream of running the New York City Marathon together was to become a reality. Ed perked up considerably after that. Our training got more intense and more focused. We were people on a mission.
At last Friday, October 31st, Halloween, arrived and we were on our way. I had found a deal on Expedia for round trip airfare for two including three nights at a hotel—it wasn’t cheap but it wasn’t out-of-reach. We stayed at the Best Western Convention Center, close to the packet pick-up and Expo. I had emailed my college roommate, Rusty, and her boyfriend, Mark, who got us cheap theatre tickets for Friday night. We planned on spending most of our free time with them. We also contacted John and Val, Ed’s Dallas friends from way back whose daughter was in an off-Broadway play. We made plans to meet up with them on Saturday afternoon. Our dance card was quickly filling up.
We had been closely watching the extended weather forecast for the 10 days prior to the race. It had changed so much, we didn’t know what to expect. On Friday when we arrived in New York, two days before the Marathon, it was in the low 50’s and sunny. The last we had checked, D-Day was supposed to be low 44 and high of 54. That was actually ideal. But we did hear rumors of wind which could make it feel a lot colder.
The trip to the airport was pretty uneventful. We made it there in plenty of time and even found a Starbucks right before boarding. It was obvious that there were many runners on the plane. Ed recognized someone from the Y. The girl who sat next to us was doing her first Marathon. Because it was only days before the Presidential election, the movie they played was “Swing Vote” with Kevin Costner.
We had decided to make the trip as inexpensive as possible so I had done Google maps of the public transit options wherever we had to travel. We found the M60 bus to Manhattan and luckily realized we needed eight quarters before it pulled up. There was a change machine right inside the terminal. The bus was packed so we had to stand for the 20-minute ride to the subway clutching our bags between our knees so we could use our hands to keep us from lurching into other passengers.
We found our subway stop again with no problems and sailed into Manhattan less than an hour after our plane had landed. We called Rusty and Mark and arranged to walk to their place in time to eat dinner before the show. The walk from Times Square at 42nd Street and 7th Avenue to our Hotel on 58th Street between 10th and 11th took longer than we expected; but once we arrived, our room wasn’t even ready. We left our bags with the concierge and headed out to the Expo.
At the Expo things again fell into place. We got our race packets and chips easily with no wait. We got our transportation changed to the Staten Island Ferry at 8:00 a.m. instead of the bus from the Main Library at 4:00 a.m.—a life saver. We bought NYC Marathon gear—shorts and a shirt for each of us. While trying on clothes in the women’s dressing room, I noticed no one spoke English but everyone was very friendly. We had the glow of people doing what we loved most—we were in our element with those of a like mind.
When we got back to the hotel, our room was waiting for us. However, after talking to Rusty again to tell them we were on our way, we found out their neighbors were out of town and had agreed to let us camp out at their place. We tried to cancel our hotel but, because of the 48-hour cancellation policy, we could only cancel Sunday night. That was the most important night anyway as that was the night after the race. It ended up saving us over $200. We arrived at Rusty and Mark’s in plenty of time for a leisurely dinner.
We ate outside at a Mexican Restaurant with frozen margaritas that made our teeth chatter. It was good that we had time for coffee after we picked up our tickets so we could get warmed up before the performance started. The show was called “Romantic Poetry” and it was a funny musical about love, what we think is love and how it evolves over time. There were only 6 whacky characters who were all very strong singers and actors. Ed and I thought the show was good but Rusty and Mark, whose standards are higher because of being New Yorkers, didn’t like it as much as we did. We topped the evening off with good conversation, wine and cheesecake back at their cozy apartment.
Saturday we slept in late. We went down for the Continental breakfast before we showered and were amazed by all the foreign runners. We heard every language imaginable. After getting ready we walked to the Empire State Building as they were giving away “free” Marathon pins. We were disappointed to find out they were only free if you paid to go to the top. We grabbed some lunch at a Ukrainian Bistro just so we could sit down and rest some before Emily’s play. We were afraid of walking too much and being tired the next day.
On the way to pick up our show tickets, we ran into Val and John. We had some time to kill so we hung out with them and got caught up on what was going on with Emily and the rest of the family. The show was in a tiny theatre but the play, Death of a Salesman, was excellent. All the kids in Emily’s theatre group are just that—kids, but they did an amazing job of portraying characters much older. Emily was exceptional and we were glad we had a chance to see her work. She is a member of the MITU (me too) Theatre Group, a job she was offered before she even graduated from NYU. The Group is scheduled to present a film at Sundance this year.
After the show it was time for the Pre-Marathon Dinner, so we checked our maps and headed to the bus and then the subway for our trip to Tavern on the Green in Central Park. What a difference a few years makes. When Ed did the Marathon in 2002, we waited hours in the cold before getting to the pasta buffet. This time we waltzed right in. We were given a goody bag to carry the boxes of pasta, packages of cookies and chocolate bars that were lying in stacks constantly being replenished. Somehow we were ushered into the VIP room where we were waited on and treated like royalty. We sat with a running club from Rochester, New York. Most of its members were sub-3-hour marathoners and so were treated to heated bathrooms and trailers on Marathon morning.
After dinner we went back to Rusty and Mark’s for a short visit. Rusty was off to the theatre with a friend who got her a last-minute free ticket. We played with their bird, Cokey; talked politics with Mark (luckily a fellow Obama fan) took some pictures, and then walked back to our hotel full of apprehension about what the morning would bring.
Ed woke up before the alarm went off. We turned the TV to the weather station—it was blustery. A cold front had definitely blown in. We dressed in the shorts and long-sleeved t-shirts we planned to wear for the race and then pulled on our throw-away sweatpants and sweatshirts over top. Our daughter, Katie, had painted our long-sleeved shirts with multi-colored markers—spelling out Team Stofko, Run if you Love New York, Dallas, Texas, our names and various other tidbits (including our age in bold black letters). We pulled together everything we would need before and after the race—power bars, Gatorade, maps, snacks, Gu, Metro Card—and put them in the plastic bag provided for that purpose. This bag would go on the UPS truck back to Central Park to be picked up after the race.
We checked out of our room and left on foot to meet Rusty and Mark on the street. They picked up my purse and our luggage to take back to their apartment. We exchanged small talk about how cold it was. They were going back to bed—we were going to run 26.2 miles! We had a little trouble finding the subway entrance. The turnstiles were locked in the first one we tried and I got a little panicky. It would be a shame to miss the start after coming so far. Ed found another set of stairs across the street and that turned out to be the right way. We were comforted when we saw other runners waiting too. I started to relax when the subway came and we were on our way to the Ferry.
There were some signs that we briefly noticed that mentioned South Ferry passengers being in the first five cars. While we were en route we also heard an announcement to that affect. At one stop, well before the Ferry stop, a runner got off the subway and motioned for us to come with her. The couple from California sitting across from us and the hedge fund guy sitting next to us didn’t seem concerned. We figured if the New Yorker wasn’t moving, why should we? I asked the hedge fund guy which fund he worked for. He assured me I wouldn’t have heard of it. But when I got back to Dallas, sure enough the fund was in my database. I wish I had asked his name.
All at once we realized we weren’t moving and the doors were still shut. Oh my God—we were supposed to be in the first five cars. The rest of the train was being diverted to another line. The five of us jumped up and started racing through the cars to the front. Why hadn’t we paid attention; why hadn’t we listened. Thankfully, there was a conductor who heard our cries and let us out. That could have been a disaster.
The walk to the Ferry was short. We boarded and set out to sea quickly. I couldn’t believe how much room there was on the Ferry as I figured it would be packed like the buses. This was definitely the way to go. It still didn’t feel real though. I was having a hard time concentrating. I felt like I was having an “out of body” experience.
Once we disembarked we were almost immediately herded onto busses that took us the three miles to the start village. The scene there was totally unbelievable—like out of a science fiction movie. I imagine refugee camps look something like this. There were people camped out and standing around everywhere in all manner of dress. Quite a few runners were clad in white uniforms from head-to-toe resembling Haz-Mat workers. They wore the new-fangled, disposable outfits meant to keep you warm—although they didn’t look very warm to me. There were port-a-potties everywhere.
We walked about a half mile to our “Green” staging area. There were actually three wave starts—the fastest runners in the first wave and the slowest in the last. You can guess where we were. Then there were different colors within the waves as some runners would run on top of the bridge and some on the second level. After we deposited our bag on the UPS truck and ate a power bar, it wasn’t long before we set out to find our “corral”. I must say it’s all very well organized with loudspeakers barking directions in every language to make sure everyone knows the drill. We noticed when the first wave started as we could see the thousands of heads bobbing across the bridge.
It wasn’t difficult to find our pace group leaders as they were both carrying “5-Hour Pace Group” signs and sticks with bunches of green balloons attached. After we got into our corral, I thought we would have time to go to the restroom; but the leaders started moving fairly quickly and I was afraid I would lose them before I even started. I figured there would be plenty of bathrooms en route—NOT. We shed our warm clothes into the bins provided (to be given to homeless shelters) and shivered our way to the start. It wasn’t long before the gun went off and we started our run across the Verrazano Bridge.
During the first few miles I felt like I had never run a step. My legs and feet were numb and a fierce wind was blowing me backward. We were glad to be on the second level of the bridge as it had to be worse up top. I tried to take in all the sights and sounds but I seemed to be on auto-pilot. I just couldn’t grasp the fact that I was running in the New York City Marathon—along with 38,000 other people.
We finally adjusted to running behind our leaders and with our group. One of them was a blonde girl of about 30 and the other was a wild, Jack-Black-kind-of guy, about the same age. He ended up being a real hoot—grabbing microphones from bands along the way whipping up support for us. Some of the runners had put the “5-Hour Pace Group” bib on the back of their shirt so it was easy to spot them. There were probably 20 of us total at the start although that would change considerably during the race. Some runners would drop back, some would surge forward and others would join in.
The bridge was long but soon we were running in Brooklyn where we would do almost half of the total miles. Our blonde leader read us something about the area we were running through but I can’t remember a thing she said. I guess I was in the zone. I was also frantically looking for a bathroom. I realized rather quickly that it was going to be more difficult than I first thought to relieve myself and catch back up to my group. I was actually even thinking of jumping off and going behind a tree but there were people everywhere. I wasn’t about to expose myself in front of thousands of New York fans.
The first bathrooms I came across had lines about 10 people deep. I guessed I could hold out a little longer. I really felt I couldn’t enjoy myself until I took care of this little problem. At the next bathrooms there were less people waiting but still a crowd. I decided to chance it. As soon as I started waiting, a man in a suit motioned to me that I could come inside his establishment—it was a funeral home! There were bathrooms in the front and back. I waited in line only 15 seconds before I dashed into the men’s room—I was out in a flash. The man called to me as I ran out to catch up to my group—“Come back and see us.”
That was at about Mile 5. I finally could relax and take in my surroundings. Wow—the sheer number of spectators was unbelievable. Many carried signs encouraging their favorite runners. Many carried cameras awaiting sight of their running friends or family members. Some carried signs for any runner—“Free Hugs Here” is one I remember. Many were giving away food. Fire trucks loaded with cheering (usually good-looking) fireman always got the runners yelling and waving back. Obama signs were plentiful—it was clear what Presidential candidate New York City would vote for. Kids with their hands out to be slapped lined the streets. Formal and makeshift bands competed for the crowd’s and runners’ attention. Many musicians drummed on street lamps and sign posts. Cheering, yelling, noise, filled the air.
I was hardly aware of moving—hardly aware of my legs or exertion. I knew I felt good. I was definitely in the groove. At some point we moved into Queens but I’m not sure when. We must have gone over a little bridge. There were water stops all along the way. Our pace group kept running except when we were drinking—our leaders wanted to make sure we kept well hydrated. Because roughly 25,000 people had come before us, the water stops were littered with cups. We could barely see the street beneath our feet for all the trash. It got quite slippery so it was a good thing we walked. Our time in Queens was short—only about 2 miles.
From Mile 15 to 16 we crossed over the Queensboro Bridge. It was different being on the bridge—much quieter. Right before the bridge is where I left Ed. I felt bad to leave him; but I knew to do my best and make use of all the training I had done, I needed to break five hours. As an added incentive, those under the five-hour mark had their names published the next day in the New York Times. Ed had “been there; done that.” He wasn’t as motivated as I was. He wisely didn’t want to kill himself and wanted to be able to walk in the morning. I saw my goal and I kept moving toward it. I knew all I needed to do was stay with my pace group.
As we crossed the bridge, everyone was gearing up for the big crowds on First Avenue in Manhattan. For almost a four-mile stretch, crowds stand 3 and 4 deep to catch a glimpse of the runners. First Avenue is the reason runners do Marathons. Nowhere else will you get the thrill of thousands upon thousands of spectators cheering for you. Our Jack Black leader lead us in a cheer—“We love New York.” The crowds went wild.
At the end of First Avenue we were up to Mile 20 and crossing the bridge into The Bronx. The bridge wasn’t paved in many spots but the grate was covered with a thin mat. Running on it actually felt like a massage to my aching feet. The tips of my toes were starting to feel sore as were my knees and rear end. I wanted to stop and stretch so badly, but the best I could manage was to stretch my calves and thighs while walking through the water stops. There were just too many people everywhere and nowhere to stop. As we stepped off the bridge, we heard, “Welcome to Queens.”
Queens was nice and, thankfully, short. By Mile 21, we were crossing our last bridge back into Manhattan—Harlem this time. Again lots of kids, crowds and music! It kept us going—moving to the beat. By this time I was getting a little cold probably because the sun was sinking behind the tall buildings. After the initial blast on the Verrazano Bridge, the weather had really had been ideal up until now. The pains in my toes, knees and rear were getting sharper, but I was still going strong. We ran along Central Park for a few miles before we finally turned in.
At that point, it seemed like we should be almost finished but there were four more miles to go. Gratefully there were many fans in the Park so that helped. Around this time, I think I got my second wind. I was actually not wanting it to end! I was having so much fun—the full impact of what I was doing finally hit me. Our leaders were talking to us. They had pushed us so hard; we had a few minutes to spare. They had to pull back because they were required to cross the finish line within two minutes of five hours. They told us we didn’t have to stay with them—we were welcome to run ahead. I think all of us did.
About a mile from the finish, I saw Rusty and Mark waving with their cameras aimed. I waved back and smiled CHEESE! I was really feeling good now—flying along the last mile. I ran by a big TV screen but couldn’t manage to pick myself out. I saw the “bandit chasers” pulling out someone in front of me who didn’t have a number. They wouldn’t get the “thrill” we had all paid for. And then—there it was right in front of me—the Finish Line. I raised my face and arms as cameras flashed. I had done it!!
I planned to get my timing chip cut off so I could go back and run through the Finish Line again with Ed. That way we could get our picture taken together like we did last year at White Rock. I also wanted to get our formal picture taken together with our medals. I took my medal but decided to forgo the goody bag and foil blanket until I could find Ed. I wandered aimlessly searching for the chip removal station. After walking a good half mile, I gave up and decided to go back to the Finish Line to wait for Ed. At that point it occurred to me that maybe I had missed him.
I waited for about 20 minutes before I gave up—an obnoxious woman working the Finish Line kept telling me to back up. (I know she was just doing her job.) I was starting to get cold and hungry so I got the blanket and goody bag and headed for the UPS truck to pick up our belongings. I figured I would wait there for Ed as he would know if I wasn’t at the finish, I would be there. When he did show up, I was never so happy to see him in my whole life. I was desperate to get my chip off and get to the subway. I was starting to get really, really cold. I realized while we had been prepared for the wait at the beginning of the race, we hadn’t prepared for after the race.
We were moving very slowly. We finally got our chips removed and filed out of the Park shuffling gingerly toward the subway. I don’t know about Ed but I started shaking violently because of the cold. While I was running I was fine; but once I stopped, the wet clothes and setting sun did me in. And then our savior arrived. We figured Rusty and Mark had gone back to the apartment to wait for us, but there was Rusty with sweatpants and sweatshirt for me and a sweater for Ed. She also helped us find the subway where, because of our Marathon runner status, we rode for free.
Back at Rusty’s neighbor’s apartment we leisurely took warm showers and prepared for dinner. We answered text messages and voice mail from friends and family. We basked in the glory of knowing we had finished the 2008 New York City Marathon. The only thing missing was Larry. Dinner was a joyous affair at a neighborhood café. We didn’t have to go far to find the hamburgers and sundaes that we craved and deserved. After stopping for a nightcap after dinner, we fell into bed exhausted.
Monday morning we were treated to latte and raisin bread at Rusty and Mark’s before the long trip to La Guardia. Both Ed and I had on our Marathon shirts and medals as is customary the day after the race. We took pictures, hugged and said our last goodbyes. We were still on our Marathon high. On the subway we talked with a bicyclist who was in awe of our accomplishment. We saw many other marathoners on the bus out to La Guardia and we compared stories. At the airport, we heard someone announce loudly—the runners have arrived. I felt like a celebrity. Because of our gold medals, the ticket agent asked Ed if we had won. He replied “Yes we did, because we finished.”
The summer before last, my husband, Ed, and I started running with his friend, Larry. Larry was not a runner and had only started running a year earlier, but he got it in his head that he wanted to do a marathon. So Ed and I decided to help him train. In the beginning, I thought he’d never make it; but Larry surprised me more often than not. I became so involved in his training that I started running longer than the half marathons I had limited myself to.
My big breakthrough came when I discovered the patella strap. I don’t know how long these have been around but I don’t remember seeing anyone wearing one when I ran my earlier marathons. They are basically stretchable straps worn around your leg under your knee. They help spread the impact that the knee gets upon contact with the ground. After I started wearing one, I found that I could run much further pain free.
So after running a 30k with Larry, I decided to sign up once more for the White Rock Marathon only a few months away. A recent discovery that we used to our advantage during this marathon was the pace group. Running with a pace group keeps you from running too fast at the beginning of the race thus ensuring that you have something left at the end. We wisely and conservatively decided on a 5 hour and 30 minute pace group. When the day came, we had no trouble running the whole 26.2 miles. I rediscovered why people run marathons. I was hooked once again.
Ed had run the New York City Marathon back in 2002, the year after 9/11. He still spoke of that experience as one of the highlights of his life. Now that I was “running marathons again”, I figured why not try it. Larry was in too so we sent in our applications in early February. The first hurdle was the lottery to be held in early June. Much to my elation, at the appropriate time I got an email that my number had been chosen. Much to my dismay, I later learned that Ed’s and Larry’s hadn’t been.
Over the next couple of months, I did everything I could think of to get Ed in. I looked up many charities which, with a donation, would award a marathon spot. With that alternative we were looking at a minimum of $2,500 just for the entry alone—way out of our budget. I even went to the CFO at my job and asked him to petition my boss for the donation. I later learned my boss just laughed it off—I guess he didn’t think we were serious. Finally, at the suggestion of my runner friend, Janice, I sent an email to the NYC Marathon Race Director. I didn’t get a reply.
Meanwhile, Ed, Larry and I were training hard. I, of course, was the most motivated since I was guaranteed a marathon. Ed and Larry discussed doing the San Antonio Rock ‘n Roll Marathon two weeks after New York but no decision was made. We started after Memorial Day getting our weekly long runs up to 12 miles. It took us until the end of June to feel comfortable with that distance. The first week of August we ran 14 miles and then increased our mileage by 2 miles every other week. On the off weeks, we did 12 or 13. Our longest run was 22 miles two weeks before New York.
We got into a comfortable routine. Larry would knock on our door at 6:00 a.m. Saturday and we would start our runs at White Rock Lake by 6:30 a.m. About mid-way through our training we had all adopted running with MP3 Players to cut down on the boredom. We kept the music low so we could still carry on a conversation; but more often than not, one of us would break into song when a particular favorite came up in the rotation.
I must say that the camaraderie was exceptional. Larry often acted as a buffer between me and Ed when we were especially tired or cranky. Ed always seemed to be in a better mood with Larry around as Larry is one of those special people who live in the moment. He has a stop-and-smell-the-roses-type of personality that reminds me I want more of that. He also frequently talks to animals—birds, squirrels, ducks, etc.—actions that often cause other runners on the trail to look at him suspiciously. I often call him certifiable. After the weekly Saturday runs we go to Starbucks, Einstein Bagels or Café Brazil. That was always the very best part of the week and made me extremely grateful that I could run and do it with two such wonderful men.
Almost from the beginning of the year, I knew I wanted to lose weight. After Christmas, I was up to 148 pounds and not liking “the new me” at all. I know it is common to gain weight as you get older and your metabolism slows, but I was determined not to be like everybody else. I had tried a number of diets that didn’t work. The one thing I hadn’t tried was counting calories. The website www.thedailyplate.com made it easy—and best of all it worked. I lost 20 pounds from February to November. Imagine running with a 20-pound weight that is gradually reduced to nothing. That’s exactly how it felt. Running became fun again.
I can’t remember when exactly I got the email—I just remember it was after my third try. Ed was IN!! I couldn’t believe our good fortune. Our dream of running the New York City Marathon together was to become a reality. Ed perked up considerably after that. Our training got more intense and more focused. We were people on a mission.
At last Friday, October 31st, Halloween, arrived and we were on our way. I had found a deal on Expedia for round trip airfare for two including three nights at a hotel—it wasn’t cheap but it wasn’t out-of-reach. We stayed at the Best Western Convention Center, close to the packet pick-up and Expo. I had emailed my college roommate, Rusty, and her boyfriend, Mark, who got us cheap theatre tickets for Friday night. We planned on spending most of our free time with them. We also contacted John and Val, Ed’s Dallas friends from way back whose daughter was in an off-Broadway play. We made plans to meet up with them on Saturday afternoon. Our dance card was quickly filling up.
We had been closely watching the extended weather forecast for the 10 days prior to the race. It had changed so much, we didn’t know what to expect. On Friday when we arrived in New York, two days before the Marathon, it was in the low 50’s and sunny. The last we had checked, D-Day was supposed to be low 44 and high of 54. That was actually ideal. But we did hear rumors of wind which could make it feel a lot colder.
The trip to the airport was pretty uneventful. We made it there in plenty of time and even found a Starbucks right before boarding. It was obvious that there were many runners on the plane. Ed recognized someone from the Y. The girl who sat next to us was doing her first Marathon. Because it was only days before the Presidential election, the movie they played was “Swing Vote” with Kevin Costner.
We had decided to make the trip as inexpensive as possible so I had done Google maps of the public transit options wherever we had to travel. We found the M60 bus to Manhattan and luckily realized we needed eight quarters before it pulled up. There was a change machine right inside the terminal. The bus was packed so we had to stand for the 20-minute ride to the subway clutching our bags between our knees so we could use our hands to keep us from lurching into other passengers.
We found our subway stop again with no problems and sailed into Manhattan less than an hour after our plane had landed. We called Rusty and Mark and arranged to walk to their place in time to eat dinner before the show. The walk from Times Square at 42nd Street and 7th Avenue to our Hotel on 58th Street between 10th and 11th took longer than we expected; but once we arrived, our room wasn’t even ready. We left our bags with the concierge and headed out to the Expo.
At the Expo things again fell into place. We got our race packets and chips easily with no wait. We got our transportation changed to the Staten Island Ferry at 8:00 a.m. instead of the bus from the Main Library at 4:00 a.m.—a life saver. We bought NYC Marathon gear—shorts and a shirt for each of us. While trying on clothes in the women’s dressing room, I noticed no one spoke English but everyone was very friendly. We had the glow of people doing what we loved most—we were in our element with those of a like mind.
When we got back to the hotel, our room was waiting for us. However, after talking to Rusty again to tell them we were on our way, we found out their neighbors were out of town and had agreed to let us camp out at their place. We tried to cancel our hotel but, because of the 48-hour cancellation policy, we could only cancel Sunday night. That was the most important night anyway as that was the night after the race. It ended up saving us over $200. We arrived at Rusty and Mark’s in plenty of time for a leisurely dinner.
We ate outside at a Mexican Restaurant with frozen margaritas that made our teeth chatter. It was good that we had time for coffee after we picked up our tickets so we could get warmed up before the performance started. The show was called “Romantic Poetry” and it was a funny musical about love, what we think is love and how it evolves over time. There were only 6 whacky characters who were all very strong singers and actors. Ed and I thought the show was good but Rusty and Mark, whose standards are higher because of being New Yorkers, didn’t like it as much as we did. We topped the evening off with good conversation, wine and cheesecake back at their cozy apartment.
Saturday we slept in late. We went down for the Continental breakfast before we showered and were amazed by all the foreign runners. We heard every language imaginable. After getting ready we walked to the Empire State Building as they were giving away “free” Marathon pins. We were disappointed to find out they were only free if you paid to go to the top. We grabbed some lunch at a Ukrainian Bistro just so we could sit down and rest some before Emily’s play. We were afraid of walking too much and being tired the next day.
On the way to pick up our show tickets, we ran into Val and John. We had some time to kill so we hung out with them and got caught up on what was going on with Emily and the rest of the family. The show was in a tiny theatre but the play, Death of a Salesman, was excellent. All the kids in Emily’s theatre group are just that—kids, but they did an amazing job of portraying characters much older. Emily was exceptional and we were glad we had a chance to see her work. She is a member of the MITU (me too) Theatre Group, a job she was offered before she even graduated from NYU. The Group is scheduled to present a film at Sundance this year.
After the show it was time for the Pre-Marathon Dinner, so we checked our maps and headed to the bus and then the subway for our trip to Tavern on the Green in Central Park. What a difference a few years makes. When Ed did the Marathon in 2002, we waited hours in the cold before getting to the pasta buffet. This time we waltzed right in. We were given a goody bag to carry the boxes of pasta, packages of cookies and chocolate bars that were lying in stacks constantly being replenished. Somehow we were ushered into the VIP room where we were waited on and treated like royalty. We sat with a running club from Rochester, New York. Most of its members were sub-3-hour marathoners and so were treated to heated bathrooms and trailers on Marathon morning.
After dinner we went back to Rusty and Mark’s for a short visit. Rusty was off to the theatre with a friend who got her a last-minute free ticket. We played with their bird, Cokey; talked politics with Mark (luckily a fellow Obama fan) took some pictures, and then walked back to our hotel full of apprehension about what the morning would bring.
Ed woke up before the alarm went off. We turned the TV to the weather station—it was blustery. A cold front had definitely blown in. We dressed in the shorts and long-sleeved t-shirts we planned to wear for the race and then pulled on our throw-away sweatpants and sweatshirts over top. Our daughter, Katie, had painted our long-sleeved shirts with multi-colored markers—spelling out Team Stofko, Run if you Love New York, Dallas, Texas, our names and various other tidbits (including our age in bold black letters). We pulled together everything we would need before and after the race—power bars, Gatorade, maps, snacks, Gu, Metro Card—and put them in the plastic bag provided for that purpose. This bag would go on the UPS truck back to Central Park to be picked up after the race.
We checked out of our room and left on foot to meet Rusty and Mark on the street. They picked up my purse and our luggage to take back to their apartment. We exchanged small talk about how cold it was. They were going back to bed—we were going to run 26.2 miles! We had a little trouble finding the subway entrance. The turnstiles were locked in the first one we tried and I got a little panicky. It would be a shame to miss the start after coming so far. Ed found another set of stairs across the street and that turned out to be the right way. We were comforted when we saw other runners waiting too. I started to relax when the subway came and we were on our way to the Ferry.
There were some signs that we briefly noticed that mentioned South Ferry passengers being in the first five cars. While we were en route we also heard an announcement to that affect. At one stop, well before the Ferry stop, a runner got off the subway and motioned for us to come with her. The couple from California sitting across from us and the hedge fund guy sitting next to us didn’t seem concerned. We figured if the New Yorker wasn’t moving, why should we? I asked the hedge fund guy which fund he worked for. He assured me I wouldn’t have heard of it. But when I got back to Dallas, sure enough the fund was in my database. I wish I had asked his name.
All at once we realized we weren’t moving and the doors were still shut. Oh my God—we were supposed to be in the first five cars. The rest of the train was being diverted to another line. The five of us jumped up and started racing through the cars to the front. Why hadn’t we paid attention; why hadn’t we listened. Thankfully, there was a conductor who heard our cries and let us out. That could have been a disaster.
The walk to the Ferry was short. We boarded and set out to sea quickly. I couldn’t believe how much room there was on the Ferry as I figured it would be packed like the buses. This was definitely the way to go. It still didn’t feel real though. I was having a hard time concentrating. I felt like I was having an “out of body” experience.
Once we disembarked we were almost immediately herded onto busses that took us the three miles to the start village. The scene there was totally unbelievable—like out of a science fiction movie. I imagine refugee camps look something like this. There were people camped out and standing around everywhere in all manner of dress. Quite a few runners were clad in white uniforms from head-to-toe resembling Haz-Mat workers. They wore the new-fangled, disposable outfits meant to keep you warm—although they didn’t look very warm to me. There were port-a-potties everywhere.
We walked about a half mile to our “Green” staging area. There were actually three wave starts—the fastest runners in the first wave and the slowest in the last. You can guess where we were. Then there were different colors within the waves as some runners would run on top of the bridge and some on the second level. After we deposited our bag on the UPS truck and ate a power bar, it wasn’t long before we set out to find our “corral”. I must say it’s all very well organized with loudspeakers barking directions in every language to make sure everyone knows the drill. We noticed when the first wave started as we could see the thousands of heads bobbing across the bridge.
It wasn’t difficult to find our pace group leaders as they were both carrying “5-Hour Pace Group” signs and sticks with bunches of green balloons attached. After we got into our corral, I thought we would have time to go to the restroom; but the leaders started moving fairly quickly and I was afraid I would lose them before I even started. I figured there would be plenty of bathrooms en route—NOT. We shed our warm clothes into the bins provided (to be given to homeless shelters) and shivered our way to the start. It wasn’t long before the gun went off and we started our run across the Verrazano Bridge.
During the first few miles I felt like I had never run a step. My legs and feet were numb and a fierce wind was blowing me backward. We were glad to be on the second level of the bridge as it had to be worse up top. I tried to take in all the sights and sounds but I seemed to be on auto-pilot. I just couldn’t grasp the fact that I was running in the New York City Marathon—along with 38,000 other people.
We finally adjusted to running behind our leaders and with our group. One of them was a blonde girl of about 30 and the other was a wild, Jack-Black-kind-of guy, about the same age. He ended up being a real hoot—grabbing microphones from bands along the way whipping up support for us. Some of the runners had put the “5-Hour Pace Group” bib on the back of their shirt so it was easy to spot them. There were probably 20 of us total at the start although that would change considerably during the race. Some runners would drop back, some would surge forward and others would join in.
The bridge was long but soon we were running in Brooklyn where we would do almost half of the total miles. Our blonde leader read us something about the area we were running through but I can’t remember a thing she said. I guess I was in the zone. I was also frantically looking for a bathroom. I realized rather quickly that it was going to be more difficult than I first thought to relieve myself and catch back up to my group. I was actually even thinking of jumping off and going behind a tree but there were people everywhere. I wasn’t about to expose myself in front of thousands of New York fans.
The first bathrooms I came across had lines about 10 people deep. I guessed I could hold out a little longer. I really felt I couldn’t enjoy myself until I took care of this little problem. At the next bathrooms there were less people waiting but still a crowd. I decided to chance it. As soon as I started waiting, a man in a suit motioned to me that I could come inside his establishment—it was a funeral home! There were bathrooms in the front and back. I waited in line only 15 seconds before I dashed into the men’s room—I was out in a flash. The man called to me as I ran out to catch up to my group—“Come back and see us.”
That was at about Mile 5. I finally could relax and take in my surroundings. Wow—the sheer number of spectators was unbelievable. Many carried signs encouraging their favorite runners. Many carried cameras awaiting sight of their running friends or family members. Some carried signs for any runner—“Free Hugs Here” is one I remember. Many were giving away food. Fire trucks loaded with cheering (usually good-looking) fireman always got the runners yelling and waving back. Obama signs were plentiful—it was clear what Presidential candidate New York City would vote for. Kids with their hands out to be slapped lined the streets. Formal and makeshift bands competed for the crowd’s and runners’ attention. Many musicians drummed on street lamps and sign posts. Cheering, yelling, noise, filled the air.
I was hardly aware of moving—hardly aware of my legs or exertion. I knew I felt good. I was definitely in the groove. At some point we moved into Queens but I’m not sure when. We must have gone over a little bridge. There were water stops all along the way. Our pace group kept running except when we were drinking—our leaders wanted to make sure we kept well hydrated. Because roughly 25,000 people had come before us, the water stops were littered with cups. We could barely see the street beneath our feet for all the trash. It got quite slippery so it was a good thing we walked. Our time in Queens was short—only about 2 miles.
From Mile 15 to 16 we crossed over the Queensboro Bridge. It was different being on the bridge—much quieter. Right before the bridge is where I left Ed. I felt bad to leave him; but I knew to do my best and make use of all the training I had done, I needed to break five hours. As an added incentive, those under the five-hour mark had their names published the next day in the New York Times. Ed had “been there; done that.” He wasn’t as motivated as I was. He wisely didn’t want to kill himself and wanted to be able to walk in the morning. I saw my goal and I kept moving toward it. I knew all I needed to do was stay with my pace group.
As we crossed the bridge, everyone was gearing up for the big crowds on First Avenue in Manhattan. For almost a four-mile stretch, crowds stand 3 and 4 deep to catch a glimpse of the runners. First Avenue is the reason runners do Marathons. Nowhere else will you get the thrill of thousands upon thousands of spectators cheering for you. Our Jack Black leader lead us in a cheer—“We love New York.” The crowds went wild.
At the end of First Avenue we were up to Mile 20 and crossing the bridge into The Bronx. The bridge wasn’t paved in many spots but the grate was covered with a thin mat. Running on it actually felt like a massage to my aching feet. The tips of my toes were starting to feel sore as were my knees and rear end. I wanted to stop and stretch so badly, but the best I could manage was to stretch my calves and thighs while walking through the water stops. There were just too many people everywhere and nowhere to stop. As we stepped off the bridge, we heard, “Welcome to Queens.”
Queens was nice and, thankfully, short. By Mile 21, we were crossing our last bridge back into Manhattan—Harlem this time. Again lots of kids, crowds and music! It kept us going—moving to the beat. By this time I was getting a little cold probably because the sun was sinking behind the tall buildings. After the initial blast on the Verrazano Bridge, the weather had really had been ideal up until now. The pains in my toes, knees and rear were getting sharper, but I was still going strong. We ran along Central Park for a few miles before we finally turned in.
At that point, it seemed like we should be almost finished but there were four more miles to go. Gratefully there were many fans in the Park so that helped. Around this time, I think I got my second wind. I was actually not wanting it to end! I was having so much fun—the full impact of what I was doing finally hit me. Our leaders were talking to us. They had pushed us so hard; we had a few minutes to spare. They had to pull back because they were required to cross the finish line within two minutes of five hours. They told us we didn’t have to stay with them—we were welcome to run ahead. I think all of us did.
About a mile from the finish, I saw Rusty and Mark waving with their cameras aimed. I waved back and smiled CHEESE! I was really feeling good now—flying along the last mile. I ran by a big TV screen but couldn’t manage to pick myself out. I saw the “bandit chasers” pulling out someone in front of me who didn’t have a number. They wouldn’t get the “thrill” we had all paid for. And then—there it was right in front of me—the Finish Line. I raised my face and arms as cameras flashed. I had done it!!
I planned to get my timing chip cut off so I could go back and run through the Finish Line again with Ed. That way we could get our picture taken together like we did last year at White Rock. I also wanted to get our formal picture taken together with our medals. I took my medal but decided to forgo the goody bag and foil blanket until I could find Ed. I wandered aimlessly searching for the chip removal station. After walking a good half mile, I gave up and decided to go back to the Finish Line to wait for Ed. At that point it occurred to me that maybe I had missed him.
I waited for about 20 minutes before I gave up—an obnoxious woman working the Finish Line kept telling me to back up. (I know she was just doing her job.) I was starting to get cold and hungry so I got the blanket and goody bag and headed for the UPS truck to pick up our belongings. I figured I would wait there for Ed as he would know if I wasn’t at the finish, I would be there. When he did show up, I was never so happy to see him in my whole life. I was desperate to get my chip off and get to the subway. I was starting to get really, really cold. I realized while we had been prepared for the wait at the beginning of the race, we hadn’t prepared for after the race.
We were moving very slowly. We finally got our chips removed and filed out of the Park shuffling gingerly toward the subway. I don’t know about Ed but I started shaking violently because of the cold. While I was running I was fine; but once I stopped, the wet clothes and setting sun did me in. And then our savior arrived. We figured Rusty and Mark had gone back to the apartment to wait for us, but there was Rusty with sweatpants and sweatshirt for me and a sweater for Ed. She also helped us find the subway where, because of our Marathon runner status, we rode for free.
Back at Rusty’s neighbor’s apartment we leisurely took warm showers and prepared for dinner. We answered text messages and voice mail from friends and family. We basked in the glory of knowing we had finished the 2008 New York City Marathon. The only thing missing was Larry. Dinner was a joyous affair at a neighborhood café. We didn’t have to go far to find the hamburgers and sundaes that we craved and deserved. After stopping for a nightcap after dinner, we fell into bed exhausted.
Monday morning we were treated to latte and raisin bread at Rusty and Mark’s before the long trip to La Guardia. Both Ed and I had on our Marathon shirts and medals as is customary the day after the race. We took pictures, hugged and said our last goodbyes. We were still on our Marathon high. On the subway we talked with a bicyclist who was in awe of our accomplishment. We saw many other marathoners on the bus out to La Guardia and we compared stories. At the airport, we heard someone announce loudly—the runners have arrived. I felt like a celebrity. Because of our gold medals, the ticket agent asked Ed if we had won. He replied “Yes we did, because we finished.”
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