The weather is warm and extremely humid. It’s certainly less than ideal, but it will have to do. I’d like to finish in the 3:30 to 3:45 time frame, which should be easily obtainable based on my shorter distance times. The game plan I have chosen is to run the first half at about an 8:00 pace and see how I feel at the half-way point. At that time I will take inventory and see if I can speed up or if I should just continue at the same pace for a while. I know the last 6 miles will be hard, so I want to leave a buffer zone in my time for that.
Just before the race is to begin, the race officials announce that it’s time to cross the highway and get in starting position. The butterflies in my stomach run rampant. I get in the crowd, working my way toward the back. I don't want to be in the way of any of the people trying to qualify for Boston. The starting gun sounds and the crowd slowly moves forward. I start out slowly, determined not to fall into my usual bad habit of starting out every race much too fast.
Mile 1: 8:26 on the time clock. OK, I need to speed up a bit. I didn’t wear a watch, so hopefully there will be more time clocks along the route, or the water stop volunteers will have synchronized watches. I had found in my training that wearing a watch during the really long runs made my arm go numb after a couple of hours.
At the first water break I decide to skip taking any fluids. I was fully hydrated at the beginning, and I don’t want to have to make a pit stop. I doubt that there will be any port-o-johns on the course, and I know there aren’t any areas that I can run behind and be blocked from the full view of motorists on Highway 90.
The next water break is set up at around mile 4 or 5 and I grab some sport drink. I don’t want to run out of fuel, and I know to take in calories and fluids early. The crowd has thinned out quite a bit now, and everyone seems to be falling in to the position for his/her pace. I’ve been following a guy who is gliding along effortlessly. He seems to be maintaining a good pace, so I’ll use him as my rabbit. We pass a few people lined up here and there on the sea wall and the median who provide crowd support, although it’s very sparse.
We get to the half marathon turn around spot in front of St. Thomas Catholic Church in Long Beach. Good. I’m a quarter of the way done, and I feel great. The pack really thins out at this point as the half marathoners begin their journey home, but my rabbit keeps going. He’s now about 30 yards ahead of me. There is no one for about 30 to 40 yards behind me either. I feel all alone.
The next several miles are just sort of a blur as far as keeping up with the miles go. My rabbit has been slowly pulling away, and I have been slowly pulling away from they people behind me. Two guys in a car pull up beside me in a car in Gulfport and ask me how far we’re running. "Twenty-six miles" I yell, to which the response is something along the lines of "Wheeeewwwww weeeeeeee!" I can tell they think we’ve all been out in the sun too long. Maybe they’re right, but I feel proud. Occasionally I pass a runner that has started dragging his/her pace and a couple that have begun walking already. I wonder to myself if they are following one of the walk/run plans I’ve heard about, but I don’t want to put my foot in my mouth so I don’t ask.
As I slowly make my way through Gulfport, I keep thinking about how good I feel considering the fact that the half-way point will be coming up soon. Every once in a while, a runner goes by in the opposite direction. Man, some of these people are FAST!
Now I catch up with a woman whom I have been slowly gaining on for the last several miles, and slowly pass her. Slowly the woman catches up and passes me again. Hmmm, did I slow down or did she speed up? I slowly increase my pace and the woman and I do battle for the position until the turn-around point. Several of the people going by in the opposite direction speak to the woman with greetings and words of encouragement. She seems to have lots of friends among the other runners. We arrive at the spot with her about 2 seconds ahead of me. There is a time clock set up and a policeman telling us to go around the cone that marks the half-way point. The time is 1:52 and some change. Not bad I guess, but I was hoping to be here faster. I feel good and need to speed up to make my goal time, but decide to just maintain this pace for a while longer. The cop says something to the effect of "Hey your time is good, now can you do the other half as fast?" hmmm…. Good question. Doubt is setting in.
There are 2 aid stations fairly close to one another on the course. One is very near the turn around, and the other only seems about a mile away. This could be a perception problem though because I’m mostly just paying attention to how many people are behind me as I begin my journey back to the finish line and an ice-cold beer. Anyway I take sport drink and water at both stations, and pick up some hard candies.
At mile 16 I start to feel less than great. I need to take in a lot of calories at the next aid station. I wonder where it is. It should be coming up soon. By mile 18, I’m feeling bad and still see no aid station. Something is wrong here. Did I miss a station? How could I do that? The last one I remember was at the east entrance to the Gulfport harbor, and now I’m almost in Long Beach. Every so often someone passes me. Several of the people have someone on a bicycle riding with them and handing them drinks and food. Others have fanny packs. Great ideas, why didn’t I think of them. Oh well, too late now. My pace has dropped off dramatically. I press on through Long Beach until I reach the harbor. There’s an aid station! Great! I’m going to load up! I stop and load up with some sport drink, orange slices, and hard candies, but psychologically I’m spent. That last section seemed like an eternity. I don’t even know what my pace was, but I know it was slow. I can’t get my legs moving again. Have I "hit the wall"? I walk for quite some time while runners occasionally pass me.
I finally get myself running again, and pass a couple of people who are walking. God, I hope I don’t look as bad as they do, and I hope for their sake that they don’t feel as bad as I do. I continue to mix walking and running for the next few miles, but the running bursts become shorter and fewer. When will that last aid station fix kick in and give me some energy? I try self motivation techniques including reminding myself of the food and cold beer that are waiting for me at the end, but nothing helps. I’m burned out and I have no idea what time it is.
I see a familiar car approaching. It’s my mother-in-law’s car and she‘s watching my kids today. I can’t let them see me walking, so I kick in the run again. They pass and I wave and try to force a smile on my face. I should have let them run me over and put me out of my misery.
Somewhere around 24 miles I see the photographer. I CAN’T let him take the picture of me walking in my first marathon, so I begin to run again. The pain throughout my joints and muscles has become intense. I hold on to this run burst as long as I can, making sure I look good for the photo. Again I begin to walk, at which point an older woman, perhaps in her 50s passes me and says "It’s tough isn’t it". That was the final nail in the coffin. If I could catch up to her, maybe I’d just trip her.
Finally I see the 25 mile mark along Pass Christian’s scenic drive. I’m actually almost there. I see a familiar face and hear "Jimmy, is that you?" It’s Chyrle, a good friend of our family. She and her kids have come to greet me at the finish as my wife is out of town for the weekend. I hear the woman on the megaphone at the finish line yelling words of encouragement. There is a crowd of people lining the streets. I become motivated to run the remainder, although at this point my run was comparable to that of a 3-legged turtle.
I cross the finish line in 4:42 or 4:44, I don't really even recall now, number 125 out of (???). Wow, an hour behind my goal time. There is still some food left, but the kegs are floating. I have been humbled....