26.2

As I stood in corral # 13 waiting for the governor to end his “everything-is-bigger-and-better-in-Texas” spiel, I couldn’t stop thinking about two things: 1. What was I thinking when I signed up for this and 2. Do I use the cover of nearby bushes to pee for the 5th time in 20 minutes (like everyone else was doing) or do I use the port-a-potties a little further away. On the latter matter, I finally decided to jump the corral gate, run to the long barricade of port-a-potties (no lines this time – only frantic runners). Needless to say, I made it back with plenty of time to spare. I only had to think about issue # 2 one other time at about mile 17.

With the risk of sounding overly dramatic, running a marathon was definitely the toughest, most physical endeavor I have ever gone through – the only thing that came close was the first day of J.V. water polo my freshman year. Coach Rob had us swim 4 sets of 20x25 butterflies on the 30 second (which we never made anyway) followed by 5 pushups between each 25 yards. It was absolutely insane, possibly psychopathic. The marathon was like that, except longer without the sudden nausea. I only felt like chucking once, at the 23 mile mark while I was high-fiving a group of little girls waiting for their Dad (the sign they were holding indicated as much). My thoughts drifted back to the BYU biathlon of 2001. I swam a mile and was just finishing the 10k run when the Lucky Charms I had eaten that morning made an unexpected appearance. The acidic remnants of marshmallowy horseshoes, hearts, and clovers stained the ground in front of the Richards Building at least until winter. Mayka beautifully captured that scene while I crossed the finish line. If it were up to me, the photo would have won an award. If it were up to Jenn, it would have been burned long ago. If anyone wants to see this awesome sight, I'll email you a copy.

Enough of the days of yesteryear. Instead of just talking about the run in general, here are a couple of observations I made along the course.

Mile .00001: I was wondering how long before someone would make the obligatory “are we there yet” joke. Not anymore.

Mile 1: I’m feeling pretty good at this point. I didn’t expect anything less but I kept having these weird quasi-dreams about cramping up or having my knees buckle or ankle twist in the first mile, or slipping on some empty Vaseline tubes.

Mile 2: Best sign so far: “You Are All Kenyans!” It reminded me of when we would tell Samantha: “Sheena of the Jungle!” and she would take off running as fast as she could. But don’t worry, I didn’t fall for this sign. Now if someone would have said “the power of ten tigers” all bets are off. In fact, just call me “The Phantom” from now on.

Mile 3: I just got rid of my long sleeve shirt that I started the run with (it was 39 degrees at the start). Apparently they give all the clothes to charity. I also wore some black gloves with the Tweety bird imprint on them that have been in the family for decades. I was going to throw those to the side but decided to hold on to them for posterity. There are just some things that are too important in our family history to get rid of, like the slot machines, dad’s key chain collection and especially mom’s hot glue gun collection.

Mile 5: I see Jenn and Trevor waving and cheering me on. I feel like a gazelle.

Watch out Plains of Serengeti!

Mile 6: I’m just starting to notice different teams. Some teams are running for charity, others for a cause or cure, and others have the same family name on the back of their shirts. Next year we should run it as a family. No, serious.

Mile 13.5: The marathon leaders are doubling back during a small section of the course. All I can say is “WOW.” These guys are flying at a 5-minute mile pace. The only time I’ve ever run that fast was after I broke the jalapeno jar.

Mile 14: What is mentholatum doing on the course? Why are people handing it out on popsicle sticks? Were they expecting a runny nose outbreak? Is it like using Vaseline? I am full of questions. I thought I knew everything about the marathon experience. They didn’t tell me about this. Where do I apply it? I don’t even know who I am anymore.

Mile 15: Most annoying, overused sign: “Don’t look now but someone is chasing you.” Don’t look now but that sign was old at mile 1.5.

Mile 22: So far as I’ve seen a giant turkey hat, a bare-chested guy with a Santa hat, and a dude with a model 747 on his head. I was also just passed by two ladies in pink tutu’s. Umm, I got crazy and wore gray underwear…

Mile 23: I’m eavesdropping on a conversation between two runners. Apparently Lance Armstrong said that in a marathon, the halfway point is mile 20. I’ve also heard that the last 5 or 6 miles is all mental. Yeah, let me tell that to the guy whose legs are cramped up and being worked on by medical staff: "c'mon man, it's only a compound fracture, it's all in your head!" That always kills me – of course it’s physical. If it weren’t, you could run forever. That’s like chanting overrated – it just doesn’t make sense. Chess: now that’s mental.

Mile 23.5: Nearly three miles to go and I can’t believe I haven’t heard a sound from my knees. Of course I’m afraid to look in case they fell off at mile 21.

Mile 26: The finish line is in sight and Jenn is there to give me a high five, Trevor yells “no retreat, no surrender.” I yell back, “they all doubted me!” The finish couldn’t have been better.

Overall, the marathon was an awesome experience. I had fun, enjoyed the scenery, high-fived every kid that had their hand out and even made a couple of friends. With a goal of 4 hours, 30 minutes, I was content at crossing the finish line at 4 hours, 22 minutes. I ran the first half at 1 hour, 57 minutes, obviously falling off pace the last 6 or 7 miles, but it was a learning experience. Jenn asked me after the race if I was going to do it next year. I told her not to ask me that at the moment. Now that I have had a couple of days, I’m eyeing the 4-hour mark. Lastly, thanks for all the phone calls, best wishes and advice.