After doing a few final stretches, I meander into the rows of people lined up at the starting line. It’s about 7:55 a.m., and I feel a little like a cow being led with the other cattle to something where I don’t quite know what to expect, but I have a feeling it’s not going to be pleasant. All the nervous energy that I’ve been filled with throughout the week leading up to the marathon has not left me; rather, it’s doubled or tripled in intensity.
My mind is racing. Why didn’t I get here earlier to loosen up and stretch? My nerves had no doubt made me late, and I barely had time to jog a block and then try to stretch on a chilly morning. I could see my breath, and after shedding layers down to a long-sleeved t-shirt over a regular t-shirt and shorts, I was shivering. My teeth wouldn’t stop chattering while trying to jog. This isn’t a good sign. I should have worn more layers.
I looked at the people around me. It was comforting to see that most of them seemed about as anxious as I was. As the national anthem played, I shifted from one leg to the other, much like an NBA player during game one of the finals. I clapped after the song was over, though I hadn’t heard a word of the song. But it meant that it was almost time to go.
And then, apparently it was time to go. Though those of us near the back where I positioned myself certainly didn’t hear the starting gun or any announcement. But we saw the mass of humanity move up the street well in front of us. It looked like an hourglass moving in reverse. I wasn’t sure how long it would take for our part of this river of runners to begin flowing. There were a few false starts, where we’d move ahead a few feet only to stop.
Then, we began walking, followed by jogging ever so lightly. Before I knew it, the starting line was approaching. The nerves didn’t go away, but suddenly, I wasn’t nervous because I hadn’t stretched enough or it was freezing cold. It didn’t matter anymore that I should have gotten new shoes weeks ago. A feeling of confidence that I had felt at various times during my training returned, and I knew I was ready. As I crossed the starting line, a huge smile forced its way onto my face, and I began establishing my pace.
Mile 1 snuck up on me fast, as did Mile 2. Mile 3 came a little slower. Once we got out of downtown and into the hilliest part of the course early on, I was feeling pretty well warmed up. No need to stop and stretch, which is something I normally would do after 5 minutes of a training run. I began establishing my pace of walking a minute for every mile, even though I certainly didn’t feel that it was necessary yet. But I knew I’d need that stamina for later on in the race.
The miles began to fall away like the layers of runners’ clothing that littered the sides of the course. But with every mile sign I saw, I was reminded how many I still had to go. It wasn’t discouraging, but it kept me paced the way I wanted to be.
The spectators on the sides of the course continued on through the wealthy hillier neighborhood and into the Drake University neighborhood. People stood or sat and clapped, and I smiled every time and tried to acknowledge them all with a wave or a “thank you.” Their kindness and enthusiasm buoyed me, as I’m sure it did others, and I can’t fully describe how awesome it was to have them experiencing this with me.
I continued on toward Drake Stadium. The wind had really picked up once I got there, and making a circular lap isn’t always what gives you energy during a marathon, but it was very cool to run a lap around the historic track where so many world-class athletes had competed.
Coming away from Drake and back toward the river, I had now passed the halfway point. I was feeling it, but my plan to walk as much as I needed to feel fully refreshed at the 13-mile mark left me feeling good. It didn’t take me nearly as long as I thought it would.
As I ran downhill toward the string of parks that made up most of the rest of the course, I saw my friend Matt and brother Corey for the first time. They walked with me for a minute or two, and their presence and support gave me a big boost of energy as I entered the parks section.
It was about at this point where I lost sight of a runner I had been keeping pace with for large portions of the marathon. His shirt said “blind dude” on the back, and he was running with his “guide dude,” also identified by t-shirt. I have much respect for that fellow-runner, as I did for the several wheelchair competitors that I saw on the course.
The parks sort of blended together, and eventually, I fell into a pace with about 8-10 others that I would see for most of the rest of the race. Mile 20 is about where I hit “the wall,” and from then on, it was all will and adrenaline. My legs felt like two planks of wood; my ankles like they were comprised of rubber bands, and my feet ached with every step. I kept reminding myself, one foot, then the other, one foot….
A well-placed receptacle of Gu energy gel I’m sure helped me get through the last four miles. As did my playlist flowing into my ears via my iPod. Though I didn’t have enough time to organize the playlist the way I wanted, some perfect songs came on at the right time, like The Streets’ “Prangin’ Out” and Kelly Clarkson’s “Since U Been Gone.” When I got to Mile 24, I assessed what energy I had left, and decided I would do the last two miles and 385 yards without walking.
Making that decision and carrying it out gave me a new wave of energy, as did more adrenaline and every last bit of motivation I had built up during my training. As I had countless times throughout the race, I thought about crossing the finish line, and tears welled up in my eyes. I struggled to pull it together and tried not to think about it anymore, needing all my concentration to finish the marathon.
I cruised by a number of runners who were still walking, as Kelly Clarkson’s “Sober” pumped me up. And then, I made the turn, and was heading up the final street, the final two blocks, with the Finish line visible. I’ll always remember what song was in my headphones (“Somewhere a Clock is Ticking” by Snow Patrol). I’ll always remember the cheering spectators lining the finish area and hearing and seeing Matt and Corey cheering me on. But I don’t really remember what I was thinking. I know I was happy and relieved. But I didn’t cry. I didn’t throw up my hands and yell. But it felt overwhelmingly good. I was proud.
So proud that I did something kind of silly. After having my timing tag removed, I got to the woman handing out medals. This being my first marathon, I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to take the medal or have her put it around my neck. But she was holding it with both hands, so I decided to go for it. I figured I had earned it. And she didn’t seem to be taken aback by my actions. But it was really great to have her place it around my neck, where it would remain the rest of the day, only taken off for a shower and ice bath.
More thanks to the marathon for providing all the food and drink after the race, which I both ate and loaded up on for later. And special thanks to the Des Moines University student who stretched me out following the race. I’m sure it helped my recovery immensely.
I’m certain that completing the marathon was one of the most personally rewarding and fulfilling accomplishments of my life. My time of 5:05:30 is nothing to brag about, but it’s about where I wanted to finish. And finishing was my main goal. For me, there’s really no better feeling than setting a difficult goal and achieving it. Finishing the marathon has also boosted my self-confidence.
I have been battling some post-marathon blues in the week after the race, and I’m glad my body has recovered so I can run again (which I haven’t done since the marathon, which seems like the longest time I’ve ever gone without running, which of course isn’t even close to being true). But anytime I’ve felt frustrated, discouraged or down since the race, I just think of what II accomplished, and I’m instantly back up again. Wearing that medal helps too, which I can’t really do in public, but you better believe I’m wearing it now.
