Finally, after 8 months of training it was here. The whole line began to move. Just as if the doors to a concert hall had opened up. We began to walk toward the starting line. The clock began to count but it wouldn’t really matter until we walked through the starting chute. Chips on our shoes would record our individual start times. As we got closer and closer to the chute we began to jog. All I could think was, “Go out slow! Go out slow!”. Countless times I’ve read articles, blogs and forums that tell first time marathoners that the number one mistake that we will make is going out too fast. By the time we hit the half way mark we will either be bagged or full of energy and at that moment we will know how we started out.

"Go out slow!"

Shortly after passing through the chute we take our first turn and I can see the 4:00:00 pace bunny not too far infront of me. He is still holding the sign. I decide that I will keep him in sight and possibly try to finish with him.

500 m

I see my parents standing on the side of the road. We go across the first bridge. Everyone is still packed together so much that it’s difficult to not bump into people. Eyes on the prize, Mr. 4:00:00 Pace Bunny. This feels awesome. I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.

1.5 km

The pace bunny yells, “Walking!” and pulls off to the side and begins to walk. Several people join him. What just happened? I kept running, guess I won’t be sticking with him after all.

3 km

First water station. “Skip the first few water stations. They will be so busy that they will just slow you down.”, I recall reading.

3.5 km

“Hey Team D”, I unexpectedly heard.

“Hey”, I replied to the woman that was now running beside me. She was also wearing a Team Diabetes t-shirt.

“What you running?”

“The full. You?”

“Same.” We continued in silence for a couple of steps.

I decided to ask, “What time are you hoping for?”

“Anywhere from 4:00:00 to 4:30:00.”

“Yea, me too.” This was good to hear.

We ran in silence briefly before she took off ahead of me. I kept my pace and reassured myself, “Keep it slow.”

7.5 km

I finally decide to take off a layer and end up doing so as I pass the Team D Lady. She catches up and says, “I’m surprised you didn’t do that earlier. You got someone to hand that off too?”

“A friend of mine should be waiting around the 9 mile mark”, I knew the 9 km flag wasn’t too far away but forgot that 9 miles wasn’t 9 km’s, 9 miles is more like 14 km’s. I take the shirt and tie it in a knot around my arm, something I learned while doing my long runs.

10.5 km

Running towards us on the other side of the road are the Elite Half-Marathoners. It’s quite the site to see them run in real life. Many of us begin to cheer them on. At this point I’m still running with the Team D Lady, she seemed to decide to stick with me for a little while anyway. Where’s Jon?

12.5 km

There’s Jon. Standing by a barricade on the other side of the road he fumbles with my camera as I fumble with my shirt. The whole time the Half-Marathoners are running in the other direction between us. I see an opening and throw my shirt at him, keeping one arm by my face in anticipation as if I was shooting a basketball after the buzzer had gone.

He shoots, he scores!

The shirt lands perfectly on Jon’s shoes just as he takes the picture.

13.25 km

Until now it was still surprisingly crowded. This is when all of the Half-Marathoners turn around and head back to the start. Man did it ever thin out. Around this time the residential buildings stop surrounding us and you can feel the cold wind pick up. I start to think, “Why didn’t I do the half? I would be going back already.”

14.5 km

We head up the big hill. The one that was concerning me for almost a week. I remember what Sarah said, “Once you start running up a hill don’t stop and don’t slow down.”

16 km

The hill finally plateaued. Surprisingly the hill that I had been training on, although it wasn’t quite as much of an elevation change, was a lot tougher. My hill was steeper. Much steeper. Maybe I’ll make it through this after all.

21 km

This is the stupidest part of the race. About a quarter mile sooner we turn up this side street and once we hit 21 km’s we turn around in the middle of this small residential street and head back down.

21.1 km

Half way. There is a man standing beside a mat that has a sensor to read our time chip on our shoe. The man is rambling off times as we run across it. “2:09:38″ Wait, what? Really? I’m on my pace. How do I feel? I feel great. Maybe I’ll finish this thing after all.

22 km

There’s my parents again. Standing on the corner with smiling faces. My dad sticks out his hand and I slap it as I run by.

22.5 km

I could be done by now if I had chosen the half.

23 km – 31 km

The next 8 k were tough and the whole time TDL (Team D Lady) was drilling me with questions. I love hated her at this point. She asked me about my marital status, my financial status and my educational status. Within these 8 k were several small hills. We were constantly going up and down, running on slants to the left and then slants to the right. My feet were beginning to hurt and I developed a cramp. Despite the full residential areas that we move through there wasn’t much to see and not a lot of people around.

31 km

There are my parents again. I take off my heart rate monitor and running watch and hand it over to my dad. It decided to reset itself around 24 km’s. Now back down the hill.

35 km

Jon’s back.

Man are my hands cold.

Jon runs with me for a half km and my spirit and pace pick up. My feet are hurting, my hands are freezing and my emotions are getting away from me.

37 km

I get so excited that I yell to all who are around me, “Only 5 k to go, just forget about the last 37.” People laugh and I attempt to surge. A quarter kilometer down the road I loose all momentum I had gained from the surge and die back down. I’m a little sluggish. There’s no way I can continue at the pace that I kept for the first 37 km but there is no way that I’m going to stop. TDL slowly starts to loose me. I use her back as a target.

38.5 km

I can’t see her anymore. Fighting back the tears I push forward. I’m going to finish, I can’t believe I’m going to finish.

39 km

The final water station. Man do I need this. I take a water, I take a gatorade and then I see it… there is a guy holding out soaking wet sponges. I almost cry again, my emotions are a mess. With the gatorade cup in my left hand and the lip of the water cup in my teeth, I grab the sponge and exhale a “Thank You” through the water cup. Nothing could feel better than this sponge across my face right now.

40 km

People are breaking down all over the place. I pass some that are now walking, others that stop at intervals to stretch out the pain and few that cannot go any further. Push through the pain.

41 km

Finally I get to turn off of the 8 km long stretch of one street. I’ve studied the map, I know just how close I am. 1.2 km’s away. My mind is jello.

41.25 km

A volunteer shouts, “Only 500 meters to go”.

41.35 km

A volunteer shouts, “Only 500 meters to go”.

41.5 km

A volunteer shouts, “Only 500 meters to go”.

41.75 km

A volunteer shouts, “Only a few hundred meters to go”. Some one needs to give these guys a tape measure.

41.9 km

Despite all of the lies from the last few volunteers I feel great and know that the finish is around these next two corners. I’m still shocked I’ve come this far.

42 km

Only one corner to go. Everything hurts. I’m exhausted. I was going slowly but determined to keep running.

42.1 km

Just turned the final corner. I can see the finish chute.

Nothing hurts anymore.

It feels like I just started the race.

Did they just say my name across PA system?

Sub 4:30:00 here I come! EFF YEA!