Little TJ survived his first road trip to Ohio this past weekend (8 hours on the way there somehow turned into 9 hours on the way back), with Cleveland the wonder-mutt serving as his body guard in the back seat and completely disregarding every one of my commands during a pit stop in his native state, West Virginia. When it was time to go, Cleveland turned away from me and sat in the middle of some long grass near an abandoned railroad track. When I slowly walked toward him he laid on his side, with his black beagle tail flapping on the tall green grass. I could barely talk in my serious voiceThese are the things I'll always remember about our little rescue hound.
For the most part, the weekend was a blast. I got to see the
Columbus Blue Jackets opening night
victory over the Nashville Predators in a sold out Nationwide Arena with my father in-law. Not a big hockey fan, not even much of a fan at all to be honest. But I am a fan of pro sports and seeing pro sports live. I scored a pair of tickets 15 rows off the ice from a scalper outside the arena for less than face value, and we saw the Blue Jackets beat a team that they were previously 0-15-1 against in their previous 16 meetings, as well as the quickest goals scored in franchise history (8 seconds apart). What I enjoyed the most was a chance to catch up and get his thoughts on retirement, living in Asheville, and this crazy mother fucking world we're living in. Good times.
There really isn't too much to say about
the marathon other than it was the most fun I've had in any races in which I've participated but for the
Marine Corp Marathon I ran two years ago with a good friend, who, incidentally, was running the
MDI Marathon in Bar Harbor, Maine, at the same time I was running Columbus. While we weren't able to do a long training run together a few weeks before the big race as we had a couple of years ago, it was fun to e-mail each other throughout the weeks leading up to our races to check up on one another to see how our training runs were going and how we were feeling. Having this kind of support is key leading up to a marathon, and a good lady by one's side is always a boost, too. The weather on race day was about as perfect as you could want, although I gotta say that 39 degrees at 6:30 a.m. when it's pitch dark outside made my balls crawl up to the back of my throat. I took a nice long piss in some bushes on the courthouse lawn (insert ironic lawyer reference here), and I was ready for the run.
The course was perfect; all the highlights of Columbus including a few miles through German Village just before the halfway point, a long jaunt down High Street, points through The Ohio State campus, down fraternity row and right along
Ohio Stadium a.k.a the Shoe, with the final miles going through Upper Arlington then hooking back onto High Street for the final stretch. There was live music all over the place, probably my favorite parts of any marathon. And an amazing band; this year, the National Guard band was assembled outside the courthouse on High Street at Mile 13 or so and was just starting to play
The Final Countdown by Europe. An oldie but a goodie. Naturally the brass section was featured prominently for this particular piece, and I got chills up and down my arms as the trumpet section bolted out the main lines of the song. I turned my head and watched them play for as long as I could, smiling from ear to ear. For the next mile or so I thought about all the songs I used to blare on my trumpet, vowing to pick it up again soon in the coming weeks.
I kept a nice steady pace throughout the race, taking in the sights and waving to as many spectators as I could, as the community support was phenomenal. At about Mile 15 a guy came behind me and said, "I hope you feel as good as you look right now," to which I replied that I surprisingly did feel pretty good. I encouraged him as well, as he seemed to keep the same pace as I did for the next mile or so. I've realized that the biggest key for me throughout a race is to get as much fuel as I can at set intervals, primarily Advil and Gatorade and for this race,
Shot Bloks. Money. Running alone caused me to play a lot of games in my head, as I would use various mile markers as goals for when I would get certain rewards. At mile 10 it was 2 Advil and a pack of Shot Bloks and Mile 15 it was 3 Advil and more Shot Bloks. I ran into the most wonderful sight at Mile 21, as the Wife was waiting with 4 Advil and a G2, with our little pumpkin head snoozing away in his stroller on the sidewalk, oblivious to the world.
The last few miles of a marathon can fuck with your head in a major way. Lots of people cramping up and walking at this point. Some runners are in tears. Unfortunate others are being attended to by paramedics or even being carted away on the meatwagon. Not exactly the nice fluffy thoughts of young children holding hands and sing Kumbaya in a field of daisies to help you grind through those last brutal miles. "Grind it" I said several times out loud beginning at about Mile 21. Partly because I was going delirious, partly because I was trying to support my fellow runners, partly because it was pretty fucking funny to hear someone saying "grind it" every couple of minutes at this point in the race. I saw a guy who had a knot on the side of his shin above his calf muscle like I had never seen before. Absolutely gruesome. Lots of people walking, a feeling I remember too well from last year's debacle in Charlotte. But what I will remember most of all from the run is a woman in front of me wearing a hot pink running skirt who was clearly cramping up in her legs and calves, walking a few steps every now and again but, for the most part, just continuing to plug away. There was a guy who would join her every now and again and run by her side (her boyfriend, I would later find out). I couldn't help but think how friggin' awful she had to have been feeling at that very moment; so close to the finish line but fighting a body that was ready to completely shut down. The easy way out at this point is to just shut the engines down and say fuck it, walk it in and give in to the pain. But this girl just kept running and powering through each stride, it was impressive to watch. When she stopped again to walk a couple of steps I slowed down as I passed her on her left side. "You can do this," I told her, "you're kicking ass right now, don't stop, you look great." She picked up again and started running, the same pace as before. It was impressive, and I couldn't help but think that I had no excuse at all for slowing down since my legs weren't cramping up and I felt relatively strong at this point in the race. I always feel that when I get to Mile 20 the race is just about over, even though running another 6.2 miles when you've already run 20 miles is nothing short of insane. For me, I just like mile markers that start with a '2' since that is what the very last one looks like. When I crossed the finish line just a few strides behind pink skirt (you make up names for people in these types of events, at least I do, anything to pass the time. There was Pink Skirt and Buckeye Girls and Obnoxious Obama Guy, just to name a few.) In any event, Pink Skirt had just crossed the finish line, collected her medal and was walking towards the tables of various food and drink for the runners. She was crying a little bit, tears that reminded me of the ones I had following my first marathon a couple of years ago. I put my arm around her and told her that what she did at the end of the race was the most amazing thing I have ever witnessed in any of the marathons I had run, which was the absolute truth. I couldn't help but tear up myself, joyful for having finished myself but genuinely thrilled to share in another's experience. She cried a little bit more, mostly out of relief, and told me that it was her first marathon and as she was running with her boyfriend towards the finish line she told him how much "that guy" helped her and she wouldn't have been able to do it otherwise. "That guy" apparently was me and that moment was probably one of the happiest times I experienced at the end of a race (number one being seeing the Wife and our hound shortly after finishing my first marathon). We introduced ourselves and I just kept telling her over and over again how remarkable her run was, almost holding her up a little bit as we exited the course. Her boyfriend was on the other side of one of the fences and I introduced myself to him and congratulated him as well, complimenting his lady and her feat. We got some gatorade and a couple of bananas and parted ways after sharing more compliments, smiling and crying together.
Recent Comments