on the iPod: "chicken fried" -- zac brown band
I'm starting to realize that, not unlike the people in our lives, marathons have personalities that are both unique and endearing. The people around me I love dearly for different reasons -- my parents, because they have been my rock for 38 years; my sister because she is beautiful and broken just like me; my nephew Charles because of his innocence; my colleagues because they truly love teaching; Mrs. Pugh because she's everything that a friend should be; and, of course, Mrs. Murie because I can't think of anyone else with which I'd rather run. There's others as well -- my friends outside of running, my students, the parishoners at St. Paul's. I'm surrounded by the greatest people on the planet. But every single one of them are different.
Races are similar in that none of them are the same and they each stand out in my cognition: the Little Rock Half has the best medals, the Bentonville Running Festival is special because i've run it since it's inception, i'll never forget the torrential rain in OKC, and Chicago will always be the apex for me, as it was my first. Of course there's countless others, and I can honestly say that I've loved every one of them. The Nashville Marathon was no different, and below are some reasons why. I hope you enjoy.
After a nine hour drive to the capital of Tennessee that we tackled over two days, Nashville greeted us with abundant sunshine and a city teeming with runners ready to lace up and run hard. Mrs. Murie and I had another runner along for the ride, Jamie Huneycutt, who would be competing in her 93rd race of at least 26.2 miles. Yep, that's right -- between marathons, 50K's and 100 milers, she's done over 90 races. Sooo impressive. At any rate, she's a local who we'd talked to at different events over the last year or so, particularly the Run For The Grapes and the Chile Pepper. When she asked if she could hitch a ride, it took us about 11 seconds to decide that we thought it would be a good idea. We couldn't have been more correct, as she jumped in full throttle, mixing it up with laughs and stories about all the races she'd run over the years. It's completely fair to say that we've made a new running friend. That makes me happy.
The expo was crowded with rediculous amounts of energy. The Nashville Marathon is part of th Rock-N-Roll Series, so the whole feel of the event is a bit hip and edgy. Aside from the standard running companies pushing their products and handing out free samples, they had a really cool traveling indoor circus, complete with barkers, skee ball games, and a side show -- the Human Jesus Lizard. Totally freaky, and obviously very real. I felt so lucky to get to see it up close and live.
Lunch was a no-brainer, as exactly two blocks from the expo, on the corner of 5th and Church Street was Puckett's Grocery. Open since the early 1950's, they've been serving up the finest Southern plate lunches anywhere on the banks of the Cumberland River. Swinging open the weather-worn double doors, the aroma of fried love instantly engulfed the air around us and I knew that we were in for a great meal. The place was hoppin' with locals and runners alike, all embibing in bar-be-que, catfish, meatloaf, every vegetable imagineable, cakes and pies, and gallons upon gallons of sweet tea. Everything was made from scratch and soaked in butter. The floor-to-ceiling windows floated in between classic photos of an earlier Nashville, complete with family pictures and patrons from decades of meals, years of celebrations. Needless to say, we left with full stomachs and content souls.
Skipping the chance to see the city by foot, we conserved energy at the Sheraton, pounding orange gatorade that Jamie had bought on the ride up. Dinner was in some non-descript American bistro down the street that the concierge recommended. They had a $10 marathon special that was heavy on pasta and light on pretty much everything else. Paired with a couple glasses of wine, Mrs. Murie and I enjoyed the evening, talking about the races we've done over the years and the marathon that we would run the next day. We were back at the hotel with the light out before 9:30. It was time to run.
Saturday morning came early, specifically 5:00 a.m., as we pinned on our bibs and packed gels in our pockets, ready to hit the streets of Nashville with 30,000 of our closest friends. We hopped a cab to the start with some runners from California and quickly found Jamie, who spent the night with one of her old running buddies who lives in Nashville. The three of us checked our bags, hit the porta potties (they were especially pungent), and posed for one final picture before the gun went off. I would run this race alone, and not see either of them again until the finish line, save for passing Mrs. Murie ever so quickly when miles 18 and 24 were on the same stretch of road.
Within the first mile I felt like I had a great feel for this course and knew exactly what to expect: heat and hills. I'd been warned months ago from a few different friends about the terrain, so we had deliberately trained on hills to prepare. But there was no prepping for the constant barrage of rolling undulations that made up this marathon course. Every single time that I looked forward I could see an uphill climb or a downhill stretch. And after that? Another hill. Immediately. Coupled with a starting temperature of 68 degrees, I quickly decided to take this race easy and enjoy every single moment. And there was plenty to enjoy. Rock-N-Roll Marathons are known for their live entertainment, and Nashville didn't dissappoint. There were bands playing at least every mile, if not every half-mile, most of them leaning toward the new country sound, but also serving up a heavy dose of dance and pop tunes to keep the runners motivated. The local crowd support was phenominal as well, with parties going on everywhere we looked. Feuled by copious amounts of canned beer and mimosas, the spectators were loud and rowdy.
By mile 10 when the half-marathoners separated for their final 5K, the temperature on one bank clock read 76 degrees. I had already passed multiple runners laid out on the side of the course, clearly suffering from heat exhaustion and dehydration and done for the day. Aid stations were passing out salt packets and ice cubes. Gatorade was abundant. Despite the temperatures, I was having the time of my life, feeling thankful that I was running forward with a smile on my face. Simply put: life was really good.
The second half of the course was a repeat of the first in the sense that the rolling hills continued to roll and the heat didn't let up. I found myself walking quite a few of the inclines and making conversation with the other walkers. The last thing I wanted was to overheat, so I made the best of a not-so-best situation. There were two hip little twentysomething girls from Colorardo that were singing and taking requests. Through about two miles with them I heard a litany of 70's and 80's highlights: "Pour Some Sugar On Me", "Jack & Diane", "Total Eclispse of the Heart", "Piano Man", and "Lucky Star". I was amazed at how well they remembered the lyrics and were able to sing them at the top of their lungs while also running a marathon. Somewhere at an aid station around mile 17 I lost them, but their spirit had an impact on me as the mileage ahead proved to be particulary tough.
It got hot. Really hot. The mileage in the twenties was primarily one really large loop around a lake, and while we were away from the heart of the city, there was still little shade to be found. By this point I was bordering on exhaustion, but still completely aware that I would finish sooner than later. Walking was more frequent than running, but I did manage to speed up for a minute or so about each quarter of a mile.
On the distant horizon I could see the spires of LP Field, the home of the Tennessee Titans. I knew that this marked the finish line, but between the heat of the day and being disoriented, I didn't have a good feel for what the final mile would be like. Hell bent on finishing strong, I dumped one last cup of water on my head (okay, I dumped three cups of water on my head), ignored my burning legs, and picked up speed. On the other side of the finish line was Mrs. Murie, patiently waiting for me to cross. When she saw me in the chute she waved her arms and began jumping up and down, ready for a congratulatory hug and a cold beer. I was, too.
We quickly found Jamie and celebrated the accomplishment of running 26.2 miles. All three of our stories were strikingly similar: astonishment at the amount of constant rolling hills and just exactly how hot it was. Also similar were the smiles on our faces as we not only talked about the race just completed, but in typical runner fashion, we also began to formulate ideas around future races to come. #NYC2012!
Walking back to our hotel on a pedestrian bridge over the Cumberland River, the early afternoon sky was a crystal-clear palate of blue. The heat refused to subside, but there was no tempering our excitement. We were three marathoners, basking in the event that we love so dearly, and showing our thanks and gratitude for all that life has to offer. The day felt like heaven on earth. I'm pretty sure that it was.
After some much needed rest, phone calls to the people that love me, and one really long shower, Mrs. Murie and I hit the streets of downtown Nashville to continue the celebration. Broadway Street, with it's endless stream of country/western bars, live music venues, and high energy, was filled with runners and rednecks, all out to have a good time on a Saturday night. After dinner and drinks, we ducked in to an old honky tonk called the Second Fiddle and found two longneck Miller Lites amongst the hardwood booths and sawdust dancefloor. A counrty music coverband cranked up shortly thereafter and marathoners flooded to the front, dancing on weary legs and unsteady feet. It was the perfect way to end the night.
We fell asleep watching The Blind Side and, at least for me, replaying the marathon over and over again in my head. The hills and heat definitely got the best of me, but I enjoyed every single mile more than anything in the world. My third marathon only served to make me want to lace up and run more, and I know that's exactly what i'll do. If fact, I found out only three days before Nashville that i'd gotten into one of the largest races in the world: The New York City Marathon. Simply finding out caused a very real stream of emotions that I had a hard time controlling, so it's hard for me to imagine right now what it will feel like to run in the streets of New York City. I'm not sure that i'm ready for it right now, but I know that I will be on November 4th, 2012. That's the date of my next marathon, and i'm the luckiest guy on earth to get to do it.
Run.
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