Running a marathon is not easy. Those who take it lightly don't respect the distance. If you can't respect the distance, you have no business in the race. Yesterday was the Portland Marathon, and it would be my greatest marathon challenge.
The weather was pretty good. Temps were in the 50s, and there was a misty rain. Yes, I know rain is not my friend, but if you are going to have rain, misty is a good one.
I was in Corral W. I would learn W stood for walkers. Since I am a run/walker, I wasn't thrilled to be in that grouping. Oh little did I know how much W would mean during the day. The frustrating part for me at the start is when I hit the start line, no one was running, they were walking. I had to decide if I was going to bob and weave and move past, or walk. I did a bit of both. I actually walked for the first 1/2 mile, and then began to jog. I thought, this is a better way to start, then going full throttle.
The start of the race takes you uphill, into a very pretty part of Portland. You look to the left, and you look down towards the river. It isn't too long that you descend down towards the river. Now you are along the Willamette River. This is a great place to run, flat, scenic, really nice.
Nice turns industrial at about mile 6. We are still along the river, but we are in the industrial part of town. Not too attractive. I was feeling good. I had left my watch at the apartment, so I was not paying close attention to time. I was running by feel. I was feeling pretty good at this point. I was not running with any power, but a nice jog.
In my mind, I thought a jog would mean I would have something for the latter stages of the race. Remember, my longest training run had been a 3 hour 13 mile run, so I want to run smart. At this point it rained a little harder, but not for long.
Hungry was in my head. Before the race, I had a banana, cereal and some yogurt, and one double shot espresso. At this point though I was hungry. I knew I would meet Mark after mile 11, and he would have a Builder's Bar for me. On I went.
I met Mark at mile 11, got food, Nuun, and some Alleve. The Alleve turned out to not be a great thing. I took it with the Builder's Bar. Alleve was to make sure I would not be in so much pain later in the race. Soon I gave Mark a kiss and off I went.
Mile 12-14 is a very gradual uphill portion of the course, still industrial, but some houses. I was walking more now. Uphill is tough for me to run. Mile 15 though is nothing like the gradual incline.
You come to the St. James Bridge, and it is a 150' incline. I was walking, and feeling more pain now. This was all 150', and it is a sharp hard incline. I took a physical beating on this, and mentally I was beginning to not feel good. Worse though, my stomach was feeling like I wanted to throw up. Part of that was a reaction to oil/gasoline I had been smelling from the industrial area. I thought though, it must be a reaction to Alleve, and little in my stomach. I felt light headed. On I went.
The St. James Bridge showed a wonderful view of Portland and the surrounding areas. No time to stop though I had to move on. At the end of the bridge there is a sharp curve downward. Foot wise that really bothered me, especially for my right foot.
With the pain and nausea I was feeling, this would be the first time I ever wanted to quit a race. On I went though. Mile 18-19 was hard for me mentally. I was breaking down from all my body was feeling. I should say at I was not running. I had been walking since about mile 15. I would walk the remainder of the race. I had downloaded a GPS to my phone, and saw I was nowhere near any pace I would love. I felt miserable.
I knew I had to get my mind in a better place. Showtunes saved the day. In my iPod, I had a series of showtunes programed, and they picked up my spirits a bit. I also began to think seriously about why I was doing this. This race was for my wonderful little pumpkin, Sabrina. I thought about her, and others with Down Syndrome. Their marathons are shorter, but they endure them in many ways. On I went.
Mile 20 was a pivotal point in the race. At this point they did the one thing I want to avoid, they were opening up the streets, and I had to go on the sidewalk, which meant going on the alternate course. The rules of the race are they don't do this until 6 1/2 hours into the race. We were at 5 hours into the race. They switched early. I was not happy about this.
At this point I made calls. I call people when I am struggling in a race. Mark was first. I let him know the hard time I was having, and he assured me I would finish, and he loved me. He could tell I was breaking down.
I called my sister Anne next. She had been following the race through various updates. She told me she and Sabrina were proud of me. She asked me about the music on the course, and the people I was seeing. It was a nice diversion. At one point she heard me talk to a group of people.
A group of folks were celebrating someone finishing the race. I saw the guy with the medal on his neck. They cheered me on, and I said, "Oh crap I suppose this means I didn't win." They laughed and Anne laughed. I joked with Anne that some Kenyan probably beat me by 3 hours, Mark should have been out there with a steak to tempt him away. She laughed. Anne knew though that the joke was hiding how down I was feeling. She and Sabrina wished me well, and lots of love, and on I walked.
The alternate course takes you through neighborhoods nice and not so nice. Lots of turns and uneven sidewalks. It isn't pleasant to go on. Also there is less support from the race on the alternate course. Mile signs are taped to the sidewalk. Mile 21 was through a neighborhood with food trucks. That didn't seem fair, as I didn't have any money on me.
Mile 22 was a less than charming area. Low class motels which can charge weekly, daily or hourly. In fact I believe I saw a "charming" couple trying to check into one. Clearly an arrangement had been made.
Mile 23 I was on the verge of tears. I was tired, in a great amount of pain, still feeling like I wanted to throw up, and I wanted the day to end. I tried to make some jokes with some of the people around me....lead balloon.
Mile 24 was the bridge back into the city, and we got to encounter Occupy Portland. Some of you know about the Occupy Wall Street protests going on. This is the same thing, but in Portland, though I am not sure why Portland. It was a bit of a mess going through the protestors. Police tried to separate, but were not always successful. At this point I met a woman named Debbie, who walked with me for the remainder of the race. I am grateful to her because she was able to help me get all the negative things out of my head.
We talked about my clubbed feet issues, the race she and I had done, and we talked about Sabrina. This was key, this was bringing everything I was doing back home to me. Running with a purpose is a valued thing, and I was so happy to be doing this for her.
Once we cleared the protestors, it was on to the finish. The last mile had to be the longest mile of my life. Pain, hunger, wanting to see Mark, and just wanted to race to end. Finally the finish was in sight. I also saw Mark at the finish line yelling my name. I made an effort to jog to the finish. It was done. After 8:02:34, it was all over. It was the longest I have been on a course. I was mentally exhausted, my body was screaming at me, and I was in tears. Mark gave me a hug, and it felt better.
Because this was the end of the race, a lot of the goodies were gone, and the photographer to take finishers pictures was breaking everything down. I got my medal though.....and I have to say it is one to be proud of.
Before the race I talked about all I wanted to do was finish. Sometimes, that is all you can do. Yesterday was a day to finish, and to finish with my head held high. I did it.
Charlie
