Marathoning: Part 1

So, a marathoning I went. But where to begin? Logic would dictate the beginning, therefore I'll preface with prerace and work my way up to and through mile 26 and after. It was a long journey and the story that tells it will be long as well. So pull up a chair, make some popcorn, get comfy and let's start, shall we?

It was fucking freezing at 6 am. Not literally freezing, because if I recall correctly the temperature was around 55, but I was shaking in my shoes, sitting on the ground and waiting around to meet a friend at runner's village. The sun was still sleeping and the soft florescent glow of Pentagon parking lot luminescents provided the only light. People navigated the asphalt like wandering spirits without direction or destination. Some sat quietly, listening to ipods or catching a quick nap. Others formed small groups like frontier's men gathering around a unseen desert campfire.

I had driven down from Owings Mills at 4:30 am, reaching Crystal City in a record 45 minutes. It's amazing what empty highways can do for travel. Too bad I so rarely get to experience it sober. Speaking of sober, I was the picture of it that morning. A good shot of whiskey would have been perfect. Just a little something to take the edge off, calm me down and provide some warmth from the inside. A strong pull of Johnny Walker would have more than done the trick. But, alas, whiskey and three and half hours of running rarely turn out well.

I'd made a point to get down to D.C. really early, mostly because I had no idea what I needed to do once I got there and I hadn't the foggiest clue what I was getting myself into. A smart play on any ordinary day, but after arriving I found there was really nothing to do before the race, other than stretch, and I wasn't going to do that for two hours. So mostly I just sat around and shivered and shook and looked for thinkings to take my mind off the cold. Live and learn I guess.

Everything would have been bearable but a friend I was supposed to hook up with beforehand had volunteered to run with a wounded marine - quite a commendable venture - and they were all supposed to stay grouped together. She couldn't get away and I didn't know where she was, leaving us in a holding pattern that eventually turned into an aborted mission. Ultimately, it didn't matter much because we were running different paces, so we wouldn't have seen each other or run together for long.

With the opportunity for chit-chat gone, I turned to other sources of "entertainment". I ate my orange, checked a bag with the UPS people and drank a Gatorade all while people watching to pass the time. Cold weather and an accelerated hydration regiment make for quite a volatile bladder, causing frequent in-prompt-to dances while in the waiting line for a port-a-pot to open up. I think I peed at least four times in the span of when I got to runner's village till the race began and that doesn't include the bathroom break I took in the parking garage (don't worry they had bathrooms, I didn't pop a squat).

Finally, after 45 minutes of stretching and warming up as the sun came up, I made my way through the crowds to the 3:45 start group. When you've got 30k people all trying to begin a race at the same time, an system to order and control the masses becomes imperative to ensure people's safety. There were all kinds of start times posted on cardboard signs held by volunteers who were strategically stuck thick in the middle of the pack, beginning at the start line with the sub 3-hour people and working all the way back to a 6:30 approximate finish. My group was middle front, though looking back I should have started a little further up. I'll explain why later.

There were simply so many people and this was the first time I really got a feel for the scale of the Marine Corp Marathon. In runner's village, everything is so spread out, you get know there are a massive amounts of people around but without a few big congregations sprouting up, it's tough to tell. The lines at the bathrooms looked like the Marine Corp was holding a rock concert, which technically they were if you consider The Spin Doctors rock. However, at the start line, all I could see in front of me were bobbing heads, everything behind were bobbing faces. If that doesn't get your blood pumping, then nothing will. At this point, with just minutes to go, the butterflies got kicked out of my twisting stomach by pure adrenaline. Primal forces begin to take over in situations like that. I couldn't think of anything but getting started. When you're facing a challenge you know could break you and the outcome is uncertain, the mind has an amazing way of focusing. It was a focus I've only experienced a few times in my life. At that moment, nothing else mattered but the race and getting to the finish. Being free of distractions, liberated from the inconsequential and allowed to take things for what they were was a feeling I'll always be grateful for and something I'll never forget.

In the distance, a gun shout rang out, echoing off buildings and the surrounding structures. Everyone around me let out a loud cheer. The race had begun and before I knew it, I was slowly being swept up in a sea of humanity moving in unison toward a common goal. I decided to go for a ride.

To be continued...