The Road to PBP (and other stuff)

4:00 AM Sunday June 3rd. Race day of the 10th Annual “Rock-n-Roll Marathon.” Race day of the 1st Annual Tom and David “___(TBD)____” I spring to a start with the only noticeable soreness coming from my trigger finger (result of an intense arcade game dual of “Police Trainer 2000″ the night before). After downing my pre-race routine bagel, banana (salted of course), and Gatorade, we were off to the race in search of coffee along the way.

-Race to the Race-

After finding some coffee at 7-11 and laughing at the clerk and his uncanny resemblance to the curly hair guy in 40 Year Old Virgin (and his, I kid you not, Aqua Man t-shirt) we were on the 5 heading south and I commented on the unnatural amount of traffic for 5:00 AM on a Sunday……Traffic all going to run a marathon duh. Several miles from our intended exit traffic began to backup in the exit lanes. We tried to out smart them by going to the next exit which was all backup also. Long story short, its 6:00 AM, we still haven’t parked and the race starts at 6:30 AM. “No worries!” I say. Tom apprehensively listens all to experienced with my typical optimism. We park at 6:10 and truck it over the bus which hauls us across town to the start. We fight our way past 22 corrals to ours, #7 arriving at 6:27, perfect timing. No worries!

-The beginning of the beginning-

Standing packed in the starting corrals with 21,000 other people feeling the anticipation, nerves, and excitement coursing through was powerful. 21,000 strangers who shared the same goal, having all been through similar experiences in dedication and training to meet the goal, not strangers, but a like-comfort and mutual respect shared.

The start of a marathon is not firing of gun fast moving, elbow throwing, if you fall you might be trampled to death, type of start as I expected. We started at walk aware of the heels in front you and as the start line near the walk enhanced to a slow jog, anticipation growing with each changing gear, the cameras start going off, you cross a sensor pad and before you realize the adventure begins.

Mile: 0 Time: 0

Crossing through the start gate with sensors fully overloaded, the euphoria is strong…floating……I snap out of it, Tom and I high five. “We’re doing it!” Feeling good and keeping pace off to a great start.

Mile 0.5 Time: 4:25

Razor blade pain in my right knee……my ever abundant optimism momentarily dips. This would be a long race in this kind of pain. Optimism kicks back in, it’s probably just loosening up from taking it easy this week. That thought carried me through to mile six. An enjoyable stretch which went through downtown San Diego right past my jobsite, acting as tour guide to Tom point out buildings and favorite spots….like Hooters. Tom becoming apparently bored with the tour narration began chatting up an attractive brunette from Long Island. They talked of training, race times, and where she was from. Tom shot me grin apparently feeling good about his progress (did he think he was going to get a number in the middle of race??) continues talking with her. She asked him “Are you in college, or beyond?” Tom confidently answered “Oh, I’m beyond, but wish I was back in college” figuring he covered all the bases, till she answered “Oh…..I’m in high school” The conversation suddenly went quiet as I was laughing my ass off behind him!!

Mile 7 Time 1:10

By this time the rationalization that my knee is just warming up has lost plausibility and I’ve succumb to the fact that I’m just going to have to deal with the pain straight on. I coined my running style as a modified-hobble-run because as the race progressed it modified from a run to a hobble. We came upon a water station with rest rooms in which Tom was eyeing a few miles back, so I encouraged him to use these ones….truthfully my knee was screaming and I wanted to see if stopping for bit helped at all. Streching out the knee I noticed the medical station giving out Tylenol…..I made a bee line for it and asked for as many as they would give me….I got two and a mark on my number so I couldn’t get more. It was time to go, no more messing around. My theory of rest=improved kneewas quickly squashed as I attempted to move into a slow jog and the pain was much worse than before. Lesson learned though, stopping is bad, must keep moving. The other great thing about that stop was its location at the base of the only big hill on the course, so we up we started modified run hobbling – We actually cruised steadily up the hill actually passing many people reduced to walking. This was also the stretch of free-for-all taking a piss along side the road….and not by the guys….

Mile 12 Time 2:05

After conquering the hill both up and down (more painful down) I realized my new motivation was the spectators cheering along side the road, they didn’t come to see people walk, so I put on a smile charged past the groups of spectators, but was really struggling with the in-between motivation (spectator) areas. By this time I could tell Tom was itching to ditch me, we were falling behind our pace and he was feeling strong. He finally got up the gumption to tell he was heading on without me to see what he could do, despite knowing it was coming I was pissed, not so much at Tom but at my knee…. I really wanted to finish this together. I mustered one last charge picking up the pace not wanting to be left behind and even entacted the old endorphin release trick having Tom punch me a few times, it worked….for about a minute. I relented sending Tom on his way without me….

To be continued …