on the iPod: "watershed" -- indigo girls
I had no real plan or agenda for yesterday's recovery run following the Little Rock Marathon, I just wanted to go out and give my legs a shot at running to see what they would do. It could have gone a few different ways -- soreness from the onset, or that feeling of a pending cramp, or knee pain, or zero energy. But instead I found myself in the best place possible: alone with my thoughts and my running shoes, the sun shining and nowhere to go except forward. What should have been a five miler became 13 before I knew it. I think I could have gone further.
Simply put, the Little Rock Marathon was phenomenal. The people, the swag, the food, the weather, and the marathon itself, especially the marathon, came together to produce a stellar weekend with which I was blessed to experience. That dreaded three mile incline through Hillcrest? I owned it. Running solo in the mile 22? There were people everywhere. The Dillard's Hill in mile 25? Ran the whole thing. And my reward was more than just the largest medal for any marathon in the world; it was a true and real sense of purpose for my life. I'm supposed to run.
Because of some last-minute confusion, our original running group of 5 became only 3, but that didn't stop our determination to have a great weekend. We dearly missed our two friends back home, and I thought of one of them often throughout the marathon, but there'll be many more races to come and I know we'll experience them together. As soon as we walked through the doors of the expo, however, we could have been a group of 1,000 as countless running friends from all over the state greeted us with hugs and smiles. We hadn't been there 10 minutes when we ran into Deanna Duplanti who was there with friends to run the half. Carole and Lloyd Swope were next, and Carole went on the next day to win her age division in the half. We caught up with an old college friend, Chad Eichler, and even ran into my cousin Jane Dickson, who runs every year with a group of friends from Stuttgart, Arkansas, the rice capital of the world.
As we left, throngs of runners were pouring in and I was glad to be getting out when we did. I could feel my nerves starting to kick in and it was time to sit back and relax, waiting for the hours to pass by when it was time to lace up and run the ultimate distance. I knew there would be little sleep that night, but that's to be expected. It's gotten better over the years, but the nerves are still there. Dinner was at The Faded Rose, a local restaurant in Riverdale that has been serving outstanding cajun fare for decades. Unpretentious and cozy, it was the perfect choice for pasta and two glasses white wine, which is fast becoming my meal of choice before a distance run. The homemade bread, piping hot from the kitchen, is alone worth the inevitable wait.
Sunday morning, exactly at 5:30 a.m., I headed out for coffee at Starbucks. The weather was a conundrum -- pretty darn cold in the 20's, but extremely sunny. I told myself that I'd wear long sleeves, but made a last-minute decision to go with short sleeves, taking a chance that i'd be miserably cold in the corral, but warm up as soon as the gun fired. We took a picture with James Murie on President Clinton Avenue before he headed out to spectate and we joined the masses ready to run.
The gun went off and my fifth marathon started with little external fanfare, save for loud music and many Central Arkansans half-way cheering along the side, wearing their camouflage jackets and Razorback hats. Bless their hearts, about 75% of them looked like they'd never been to a race and had no idea what was going on or what in the hell they were supposed to do. They just looked like they were ready to go home. I couldn't help but grin.
Mrs. Pugh, in her triumphant return to distance running, pulled up immediately in an effort to look for another friend of ours, Kim Sullivan, so it was Mrs. Murie and I left to fend for ourselves in the first mile was a series of dodges and hang-ups as 13,000 runners jockeying for position. I knew that it would clear out, and sure enough it did, right about mile two when I needed to make a quick stop and Mrs. Murie pressed forward, but not before James snapped a quick picture of the two of us running over the Broadway Bridge. James was a trooper, as we would see him all over the first half of the course. I wouldn't see Mrs. Murie again until mile 20, but she and I both know that marathons are meant for everyone to do their best and give it their all, so it was with encouraging words that we parted ways.
The next 18 miles, through North Little Rock, then back through downtown Little Rock, Stift Station, the Governor's Mansion, Central High School, the state capital, and Hillcrest were some of the best miles i've ever run in my life. And that's the truth. Things didn't get ugly until mile 20 in Rebsamen Park, and even then I loved every single mile. Never for a moment did I not enjoy this marathon. I ran a steady pace the entire time and only walked through water stops, which was a first for me to not walk some of the course.
Every time I turned around I was running into friends. It started in mile three in the Argenta section of NLR, when Greg Nabholz was waving down from his balcony overlooking the course. A few miles later I ran into Darryl HIll, a running friend who's wife, Jeri, I grew up with in Pine Bluff. He and I ran together for about a half mile before he took off. That was also the first time I saw Jason Brunner, a college buddy, along the course cheering. He was there to watch his girlfriend and I saw him no less than five other times throughout the race.
In mile nine I ran into Max Moore, who was running the half. He and I ran together for a solid mile and then some, stopping to shake the Governor's hand. It was great to talk to him and pace each other. He's not yet run a full, but it wouldn't surprise me if he did. At the bottom of Kavanaugh I began trading leads with three girls wearing tu-tu's. After a mile or so we began to talk when one of them blew her nose and the projectile almost hit me. Runner problems. I found out they were from Memphis and all three were running their first full.
I also saw an old college buddy, Charles Zook, who was spectating in mile 15. I hadn't seen him in years so I stopped for a quick minute to catch up. We're both public school teachers now and I can only imagine his students love him. He's a great guy all around.
Mile 19 was a bit tough, as the big toe on my right foot began to tingle. Hmmm. Never had that happen before and not really for sure what was going on, but it was irritating. Right about that time a running friend from Fayetteville, Stephen Stafford, came along. He's a professional triathlete with amazing times and overall wins under his belt and is currently training for Western States, a hugely popular invitation-only ultrarace, in April. He was really kind to keep me motivated for about a half mile before he turned around to look for some of his clients that he was pacing.
The coming mileage was an out-and-back and I knew that it was pretty likely that i'd cross Mrs. Murie's path. By that time I was completely in my element, absolutely loving the morning and ignoring the pain. I very much wanted to see her and share the moment with my running companion that I care for so much. Sure enough, as I was in mile 20 and she was in mile 22, I saw her coming in the distance. I began to wave and she saw me, too. We shared an emotional hug and great big smiles, quickly commenting on how much fun we were having, before running forward toward our own finish lines. Seeing her was so incredibly comforting, knowing that we were both experiencing what was turning out to be an ideal marathon.
The final miles included quite a bit of pain, as my left thigh chafed so bad that it eventually ruptured into a swollen, bloody mess. Despite all that, I loved every moment and wouldn't have changed a thing. Coming in to the finisher's chute was a blur of friends yelling and cheering. James and Mrs. Murie, Mrs. Pugh, Jeri Martin Hill, and Jason Brunner were all there. I crossed the finish line in a dead sprint under crystal clear skies and the sun shining down. It couldn't have been any better.
After getting the finisher's medal that is, literally, the size of a small dinner plate, I skipped the celebratory beer and opted for milk instead. It sounds completely unappetizing, but it's got the perfect amount of sugary carbs that a spent body craves. There would be plenty of time for beer later. Mrs. Murie and Mrs. Pugh were waiting in the middle of the party and the three of us immediately hugged before posing for the finisher's picture. I love them both very much.
Never in a million years did I think that I would ever finish a marathon, much less five. But for whatever reason in life I have, and I hope to run five more. Or even fifty more. Marathoning has become my way of living to the fullest extent possible, and I'm so blessed to be able to do it. I've already got more in mind, some sooner than later, and can't wait to lace up and give it my best shot. In the meantime, i'll get by on the Skull Creek trail, with five milers that turn into 13, and longer runs when the feeling strikes. And i'll write about it every once in a while, with hope that somebody will find my writing inspiring enough to run a mile or two themselves.
Run 26.2.
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