Since this is my first attempt at blogging I will try to keep it short. Anyone who knows me knows that I am a storyteller, and once I get going I can spin a yarn for quite a while.

Last Saturday I ran in the Salt Lake marathon. This was my second marathon; both of them run on the course in my home town. I learned a lot about myself last year and didn’t think that this year would be much different. I was wrong.

On Saturday June 3rd we woke before 5AM, and before I was even out of bed I knew that something was wrong. I was incredibly nauseated. I had to sit at the foot of the bed for a few minutes until the wave passed. I played it off to race-day jitters and began to dress. I had a lot on my mind that morning. The previous year I had done some training prior to running the marathon. I wasn’t enough training, but it was more than I had this year, and I was worried that I wasn’t prepared. I was concerned that my legs wouldn’t hold up, that I’d wear out too early, or that all of the Mountain Dews I’ve been drinking would cause me to suffer a heart attack.

We didn’t get a lot of sleep the night before the run. Our two year old daughter Samantha had the flu, and had been vomiting and running a fever. If I had more than rocks in my head I would have accepted the fact that her symptoms and my own were the same. But after I dressed, lubed up all of my appropriate joints, applied sunscreen to my dome and barfed my guts out I was ready to go.

My father-in-law drove us to the start line while my mother-in-law sat at our house with the kids who thankfully weren’t awake to see us off. The start line at the Eccles Olympic Legacy Bridge on the University of Utah campus is quite a sight. That morning there were thousands of people waiting for the start of the run before the sun was up. Kate and I got there just as the bike marathon was starting, and watching all of the cyclists cross the starting line was a very euphoric feeling.

After the cyclists, the handicapped racers, and the slow-start runners began we lined up. The official start line is directly under the bridge and by the time Kate and crossed, it felt like we had been waiting en eternity since the starting horn. A wave of nausea hit me again, but I choked it back as I waved at a cameraman above me in a boom truck.

We ran South down Foothill Boulevard, and at first I kept good pace with Kate. She had been training for months, and I knew that at some point she would blow right past me. I had been teasing her that she would be done, at home, showered and down for a nap by the time I finished. By the time we reached the first celebration station for some Gatorade and water I had lost Kate and knew that I would not beat my time of 4:50 from last year. I had a lump just at the top of my throat, and knew that I was going to be gagging soon.

We circled around Sugarhouse Park and headed South, through the Holladay area. It was a beautiful sight. It was still early in the morning, so the sun had not breached the trees. It was still cool, and running under the canopy of trees with throngs of strangers out to cheer us on was an encouragement. I needed all of the encouragement that I could get. Before I would reach the halfway point at 6200 South, I would have to stop nearly every mile to find some bushes where I could dry heave. I also had to stop at every porta-potty for things that are worse than vomiting. I took water and/or Gatorade at each rest area, but I couldn’t keep it down. I even lost the bagel I’d had for breakfast. I knew that I was in trouble and I knew that I would never make it. The previous year my calves did not start to cramp until about the 18th mile. This year I was cramping before mile 10. I had also stopped sweating, and I could feel the salt accumulating on my face and shoulders; a bad sign. With nothing in my stomach I knew that I wouldn’t be able to finish, and if I did it would be bad for me.

I knew that my family would be waiting to see my on around the 15th mile, so I resolved to make it just to where they were. I decided that from there I could catch a ride to the finish line with my Dad so that I could see Kate finish and cheer her on. I had justified in my mind that there was no shame in quitting when I was as sick as I was. My family was waiting for me along the Van Winkle expressway. Van Winkle is one of the most dreaded parts of the marathon. It is wide, long, and by the time runners get there, the day is warming up, and there is no shade. It is also far between intersections, so the groups of well-wishers are sparse.

As I rounded a bend I saw my family waiting for me. Tears welled up in my eyes once I saw them, and I knew before I even reached the spot where they were waiting with cookies and water that I wouldn’t be stopping before the finish line. They were clapping and cheering, and my heart was suddenly lifted. Though I had requested that they bring the cookies I was too sick to eat them, and the majority of the water they brought was poured over my head. I was told that Kate was only about 10-15 minutes ahead of me, and for a fleeting moment thought, “Maybe I can catch her.” But then I snapped to my senses and thought, “Yeah. And maybe I’m a Chinese jet pilot.” I didn’t care about how long it took or who finished ahead of me. I just had to finish.

I left my family and trudged on down Van Winkle. I didn’t leave them a moment too soon. Shortly after I started off, a runner collapsed right in front of my relatives. My Aunt Jan and sister Kat ran over and poured water on his face to revive him. He was awake and talking to some other bystanders who came over to assist, then suddenly lost consciousness and stopped breathing. Someone started CPR and an ambulance was called. Had I seen that I would not have finished the run. I saw the ambulance pass me and thought to myself, “Uh-oh.” But I didn’t think much more on the subject. We never heard if the man was okay after being carted off by the paramedics, but I like to hope so.

As I completed Van Winkle, running around where it curves into 7th East, I saw a runner slip off to the side of the road and climb up on a jersey barricade. Thinking she might need some help I ran toward her. As she situated herself on the barricade I saw that she had a lit cigarette in her hand. I ran on, hoping that I would at least finish before her.

The course cut over to 5th East, where it runs north all the way to Liberty Park. I found myself walking as much if not more than running at this point. My calves were cramping so much that I couldn’t figure out how to relax them, and the pain was unbearable. Soon my hamstrings began to tighten up. All along 5th people were out with their hoses on, and I was repeatedly sprayed, for which I am grateful. It was getting hot by this time. At one of the water stations they gave us orange slices, and I was thankful that I was able to keep them down. After wrapping around Liberty Park the course runs through downtown Salt Lake and ends on the West side of town at the Gateway. It was great to run past all of the buildings I love so much with a feeling of accomplishment, knowing that I was just around the corner from success.

Turning the last corner into Gateway both on my calves were as tight as knots and painful, but foolish pride would never allow me to walk to the finish line. Throngs of people were cheering me on, and I hobbled the length of the outdoor mall to the finish line. I saw Kate, my kids, and my family waiting for me, which helped me finish. As I crossed the finish line I yelled out, “I’m a hero!” because one of my smart-ass co-workers asked me to. Fortunately no one heard me.

The final damage was this: 5 hours 18 minutes, 28 minutes slower than last year, and 24 minutes behind my beloved wife. I still might lose some toe nails, but after a couple of days’ rest and overcoming whatever bug Samantha and I had, I’ve had no residual pain or ill effects. I am proud that I was able to finish, and of course I will run again next year. I can’t live for ever with that finishing time.

During the run I learned the importance of music. Kate and I both train with music on and both of us suffered ill effects stemming from iPod malfunctions. Kate’s iPod froze before mile 8, and she had to run the rest of the way without it. She said that once she didn’t have her music to occupy her mind she began to focus on her pain, which slowed her down. She gave her iPod to her sister’s in-laws, who came out to cheer us on. My problem stemmed from my new ear pieces, which kept slipping out. When I saw Beth’s in-laws and found out about Kate’s iPod, I traded earpieces, and had tunes for the rest of the run.

I listen to what Kate refers to as ‘angry’ music, the kind that stirs me up and gets me going when I run. AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck” and Soundgarden’s “Rusty Cage” are two examples. I found it very serendipitous that certain songs would come on at certain points. Near the end of the run when I was really hurting the Ramones song “I Want to Be Sedated” came on. At one point while my calves were aching I heard the Hole song “Doll Parts”. At one point in the song Courtney Love sings, “…someday you will ache like I ache…” I also heard Everclear’s song “Strawberry”. In this song the chorus says, “Don’t fall down now/ you will never get up…” and ends by chanting, “…don’t fall down now! Don’t fall down now! Don’t fall down now!” And of course the marathon wouldn’t have been complete without the Pixies’ “Where is my Mind?”

I would be remiss if I didn’t take a minute to thank everyone who supported me before, during and after the run. My wife, whose taunting about how she was going to kick my butt motivated me. She is my sweetheart. My kids, my Dad, my Mother, my siblings and their spouses, my Aunt Jan and uncle Ard, and everyone who supported me are all wonderful people. To everyone who supported my fundraising efforts for Hometown heroes thank you. Eradicating cancer is why I started this in the first place.
I am really grateful for this experience, and though it may sound like I focused too much on the negative, I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again knowing what I know now. I have been facing a lot of stressors in my life lately. Both at work and school I have been doubting myself, and wondering whether or not I had the ability to live up to the challenges in front of me. By overcoming my shortcomings and completing the marathon I have a new perspective on things, and feel that I really can overcome anything.