 Kristen finishing |
 Kristen (again) |
 Moments after Ryan finished |
What can I say? I just finished the Saint George Marathon and it hurt. A lot. (To be clear, I’m the one hurting, not the race.) Here’s the story: I fell sick (with the flu?) on the Wednesday before, but by Thursday I decided notwithstanding to run the race. (Can’t go losing my registration fee!) Friday afternoon my sister Kristen and I drove down to Saint George, picked up our registration packets and my ELITE number(!) We tried to catch a few hours of sleep, but four AM came sooner that we expected. We hurriedly dressed and drove to the marathon park. At the park, a herd of busses idled, ready for loading. We scrambled upon the first one we could and enjoyed some healthy banter with the other riders on the trip to the starting point (some 45 minutes up a canyon.) At that location, the organizers had erected a small city complete with the longest line of porta-potties I’ve ever beheld. It’s cold before sunrise in the canyon, so there were thankfully a number of small fires around which the growing swarm of runners huddled. Our ranks swelled to over 5,000 and at about 6:50am, the race began with the national anthem and the shrill of an air horn. The crowd surged forward, and we were on our way.
Did I mention that I neglected to train for the marathon? Well, I did. I’ve been busy with stuff. How hard can 26 miles be?, I thought. (Answer: very hard.) Looking back, I did pretty well the first mile. My strategy was to run 10 minutes and then walk one minute. That worked for about one time before it changed to, run 30 seconds walk five minutes. At mile ten, Kristen overtook me and tried, unsuccessfully, to motivate me to run faster. I told her I wasn’t interested in her motivational speaches and, after a shrug, she kept running and I kept walking. My running plan soon evolved into one of survival and finishing– I would walk when the course was flat or uphill and when the road was downhill I would lean forward and sprint like a demon-possessed-madman. This resulted in leapfrogging other runners only to have them pass me a short time later.
Aid stations. These curious way marks, positioned every three miles, were like mini parties for me. I would stroll from table to table gratefully accepting handfuls of orange slices and banana halves and water and Gatorade and Vaseline on sticks and power Goo. Other runners would slow down for the stations too, joining me in my feast and making me not feel like such an out-of-shape loser, if only for a moment.
Quitter vans. Maybe you’ve decided to run a marathon and then half way into the race, as painful bursts rack your body, you begin to regret your decision. For this, they have slow moving vans marked “tired runner pickup,” where you can cast your hopes and dreams aside and validate how much you think you suck. To those with too much pride to quit (me), these vans taunted our lack of training and offered a quick exit. Like drugs, these easy-way-out automobiles should be avoided at all cost.
Myth #1: “it’s all downhill.” This vicious lie is spread by the proprietors of the St. George Marathon website. They even feature a handsomely illustrated graphic depicting the steep, nearly treacherous decent. “You practically don’t have to run at all”, it seems to be saying. “Just lean forward and let gravity do its work!” Those who were taken in by this web of deceit were in for a shock as mile three came around and a veritable Everest loomed into view, dashing the lie apart like the sides of a hand grenade.
Bathroom breaks. Before the race had even begun, I noticed quizzically many people swilling jugs of Gatorade. Don’t get me wrong; I’m all for proper hydration, but surely if you imbibe so much liquid you’ll need to void yourself of the excess soon enough. My prediction was right, and more frequently than the mile markers, was the lone male runner relieving himself (in plain sight) alongside the road. Fortunately, the women had the fortitude to postpone the bathroom breaks until the dual porta-potties at each aid station.
Conclusion. Like getting Lasik eye surgery, I’m glad I ran the marathon, but I didn’t enjoy the experience at all. I am frequently asked, “Will I do it again?” I don’t think so. With little offense intended to great marathoners, I personally don’t believe it is a healthly thing to do to one’s body. Burning fat is ok. Burning muscle is not ok. Still, there were a lot of healthly (and attractive) looking people who participated. Maybe next year I’ll just go to watch and cheer them on. With all the pain, it’s a heck of a lot easier to run when people are cheering.