Oct 04 2008
My First Time: To Run a Marathon
My First Time to Run a Marathon was also my last. Final. No more.
Almost FIVE HOURS after beginning the longest 26 miles I would ever “traverse,” I crossed the finish line (just a slog–a slow jog). I knew…at about the 22 mile mark…that I would never attempt another marathon race. (”Race” is really a misnomer so far as my experience is concerned.)
I “ran” the 1994 San Diego Marathon. January is still pretty nice weather in San Diego, relatively speaking, compared to Montana. I wouldn’t have wanted to run that distance in August.
I had been a “serious” runner for about four years, and had already completed two thirteen-mile “half-marathons,” and perhaps 25 ten-kilometer races, so I thought I could handle the “big one.”
I was 46 years old and would turn 47 the month following the Race. I felt that time was running out on me and I would never be in a better position, training-wise or age-wise, so I decided to go for it. For three months I made certain that I completed at least one 20-mile run per week, usually on a Sunday. I figured if I could do the first 20 miles, then the last 6–a 10k–would be manageable.
Thankfully, there are no photos of me at the end of the run. I was not a pretty sight to see. I do have a medal, though. Marathon races give out medals to all who FINISH the run. I believe that is appropriate. At least, I certainly felt like I deserved a medal. (If you click on the photo, a larger image will open.)
I was SO SORE the next day, I could not go DOWN a flight of stair steps unless I turned around and stepped down backwards. My quad muscles were shot. I received a full body massage two days after the race and I could hardly endure the pain.
True to my feelings at the end of the race, I never, NEVER tried another marathon. I did complete five half-marathons later in the year 1994, and thirteen miles is the longest I have ever run since.
My road racing days are now long past; my knees are not up to running any more. I guess that is naturally expected as we age but it is also a consequence of hundreds of miles of ”wear and tear.”
Marathon runners..brave or mad? Possibly both.Ha Ha. Good on you,Doug for putting in the effort. And the medal is a beauty,or “bewdy” as we say in the Great Southern Land.
And after all these years, you can cheerfully say your “wear and Tear” is due to sporting prowess.
My dad used to run marathons all the time (he’s 62 now, though he still works out). He ran everywhere all the time, so marathons to him were fun. He was also a military guy, so that might explain it.
I have never been a runner. I say that I only run if I am being chased (or chasing a child that got loose, hehe).
I give you much credit for doing it. And for determining not to do it again! I can only imagine that pain!
~Kelly
http://www.30somethingandsearching.today.com/
My sister recently challenged me to do the Chicago Marathon in 2010 …
After reading your post, I’m not sure if her strategy was to give me ample time to train - or ample time to let the seed of fear grow?
Either way I’m going to beat her time if it cripples me …
Sibling rivalry - gotta love it!