I've been lurking on this list just since WDWM 2001, and enjoying it.
Below is a race report for anyone who's interested -- sorry it's so long.
Short version:
My first marathon, finished in 5:03 (net). Loved every minute of it.
Long version:
I've run regularly for about 10 yrs, usually in the 8.5 minute mile range,
but I've never run more than 13.1 miles until this year. My aunt, whose
first marathon was WDWM 2000, invited me to run 2001 with her. Back in
March, this seemed like a good idea, but my training has been spotty to say
the least - I was sick, my wife/kids were sick, had travel/job emergencies,
etc. etc. - all the standard excuses. Did a few long Saturday runs, up to
17.5 mi three wks before the race. Frantically trying to get all my business
taken care of by the time we leave Seattle for Orlando, I'm working insane
hours and my pre-race taper looks more like falling off a cliff. I wanted to
be at 195 lbs, but have exercised virtually no self-discipline whatsoever at
the dinner table, and am at about 210 on race day. Not sure if I can really
do 26.2 at all.
At least I'm drinking non-stop and cramming carbohydrates like crazy during
the week before the race. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's putting
down carbs. Might as well concentrate on my core competencies, right?
Race day: I have to pick up relatives at the airport the night before the
race, so I end up getting about 2 hrs of sleep. Deep misgivings about this
whole thing - who am I trying to fool with this marathon business anyway?
I'm 35 yrs old, 15 lbs overweight, and seriously undertrained.
Meet my aunt at the staging area at 3:45am. I'm wearing spandex running
pants, and I have a thick sweatshirt over my running T, but I'm absolutely
freezing my buns off.
We spend two hours eating power bars, drinking Gatorade, and peeing.
I've forgotten to bring tape, so I get bandaids from the first aid tent for
my nipples, which are like stone - I lived for several years in Canada, but I
don't remember ever being so cold. By the time we're in the corrals and the
fireworks finally go off, I'm just so happy to be moving I hardly notice.
And I really, really have to pee again.
My aunt introduces me to the run/walk thing (I've never heard of Galloway,
which shows how serious and scientific my running isn't. I just like to run,
and it keeps me in shape for hockey). She does a mile in about 10 minutes,
then walks 1 minute. It's hard to make myself walk, but she is 48 yrs old
and this is her third marathon (plus a half-marathon) in 3 months - there
must be something to it.
The first 4 miles my kidneys are aching, but we finally get a chance to stop
at the honey-buckets. I feel so good just from emptying my bladder, it's
like starting over. I'm finally warmed up and enjoying the run.
Magic Kingdom is fantastic. The characters, the cheering spectators (why are
these people out here so early? I paid 70 bucks, so I have to do this, but
they could be back in their hotel rooms sleeping right now). And the brass
band is great -- with that band alongside, I feel like I could run 50 miles.
My aunt pulls a muscle around mile 12, but it's not too bad, she says. She
sucks it up and keeps going.
For me, there's nothing but good for the rest of the race. The characters,
the mile markers (every mile marked, and with the time displayed!), even the
canned cheering. Everyone is having a great time.
At 18 miles, I'm now running farther (albeit slower) than I've ever run
before, and I feel great. There are no hills, the weather is now perfect,
and I start to think I might really be able to finish this thing. The
volunteers are fantastic, and the Disney employees really seem sincere as
they cheer us all on. The toenails sign makes me laugh, and even gets a grin
from my aunt, who's hurting pretty bad by now, but gritting it out. There's a
guy who's already got his medal walking back along the route, telling
everybody that they're doing great. What a class act.
Around mile 23, my kids see me run by, but my wife is talking to someone and
misses me. She has put up with a lot of "Daddy has to go run now" over the
last few months; it's too bad she doesn't get to see what she was supporting.
By this time, I know I can finish - I could crawl 3.2 miles if I had to.
At 24, I realize that if we turn in the last 2.2 at 8:50 or so, we can come
in under 5 hrs. Auntie says she can't do it, but insists that I go ahead, so
I start my little kick. I start to crank it up as best I can, waiting for my
body to rebel, but it doesn't. I guess all those carbs, powerade, water,
bananas, oranges, chocolate GU, and sprees are going to do the trick. I pass
hundreds of people in the last 2.2; I salute the sweaty backs of the two or
three who pass me. I pass one young woman in a TNT singlet who's really
laboring - "You go, girl," I whisper, and she gives me a tired smile and a
thumbs up.
The last .2 seems longer than 385 yards, but then there's the finish. I
haven't broken 5 hours, but I don't care. As I sprint over the mats I pump
my fist like I've just scored the winning goal in double-OT, and then
unexpectedly break into tears. What's that all about?
I get my Mickey medal, and lean on a trashcan to stretch my calves.
Immediately there's a Disney staffer there to make sure I'm all right.
"Fantastic," I assure her. Auntie comes across the line and I give her a
bear hug. I can tell she's hurting, but she's grinning too.
The next day, we go to the parks, and I feel absolutely wonderful. Squatting
to tie my shoes, my quads creak, but by the third day I'm not even sore. I
have tons of energy, and there were no blisters, no cramps, no wall. I have
finished 26.2 miles. This Galloway guy is a genius, and my aunt is a
wonderful lady. I'd love to be back for 2002.
