Well, here are the last miles of my marathon, but do not think for one second that this blog is done… Just because the marathon had to end, doesn’t mean that my running ends too. It might have for the two following weeks that I was on my trip, but now that I am back, I am running again and will have many blogs to tell you, stories to pass on, and helpful hints that will bring out the runner in all of you… (Come back! I was joking!).
Mile 24
At this point, the tunnel of fans are yelling out to us, “Only two more miles to go!” I happened to be running next to this gentleman who looks over at me and says, “Yeah, the longest two miles of our lives.” After hearing that, I started to think about these last two miles. In some cases, two miles is not much at all. Its about 15-20 minutes, about the time a sitcom runs without commercials, the time it takes to write half a page for an SEO article, the time it takes to drive from Carlsbad to La Jolla. On the other hand, 15-20 minutes is also the time it takes to get a filling, the time you sit nervously waiting for a job interview, or the amount of time between songs on morning radio. No matter how you look at it, you have two more miles to go, and then a lifetime to think back on it.
Mile 25
While mile 25 is probably the mile I looked forward to the most (after mile 26, of course), it was also the saddest mile. It as about halfway through the mile and I came up on a man barely able to shuffle along, talking to a guy on a bike. My initial reaction was to give the guy on the bike a piece of my mind for being on the course, but as I got closer I realized that he was actually helping the shuffler. The shuffler was complaining about something, pain, dehydration, typical marathon stuff, and all the while screaming that he couldn’t go on. The guy on the bike was trying to motivate him to keep it up through the last mile and a half. Almost right as I passed him, he screamed bloody murder at the top of his lungs and almost disappeared behind me as he stopped to walk. I followed him, turning my head back, and quickly caught a glimpse of him throwing his hands up into the air. Looking up at the sky, I knew he was asking himself why; why he had given up and why he wasn’t able to hang on for another mile. Of course, I began asking myself why I was complaining so much about the last two miles of my own race and how I wasn’t going to beat my previous time when some people have nothing else in them that they give up so close to the finish. This led me to questions about why I run 30 minutes at lunch and why I run so many road races and finish in an average place. The answer is simple though. Because I know what it feels like to throw my hands up in disappointment and let down, and I wasn’t going to let it ever happen again. We all have moments of defeat; his just happened to be at that moment.
Mile 26
Just like all of you that have run vicariously through this marathon with me, through mile 26 I just wanted to finish. I was ready to cross the line, get my medal and t-shirt and call it a day. I was so beat up and in so much pain; I had nothing in me except for the finish line. I was still looking at my watch and still thinking about the guy that gave up, if he would end up picking back up again. And I thought of my best friend who was somewhere cheering for me on the sidelines. I thought about Oz who was running somewhere behind me, and everyone back at home who was sleeping in their beds in lovely California PST. There was nothing sentimental going through my head at this point, sorry to burst your bubble. I just wanted to get done and get the hell out. I knew I was almost done, so I didn’t need any positive thoughts to get me through. Just get me past that line…. PLEASE!