The First Marathon.
I was working and studying at National University in Los Angeles in March 1996. I would be graduating in June and was contemplating applying for the Navy’s Officer Candidate School. One of my office mates exclaimed how proud she was of her fiancée for training hard in preparation of the Los Angeles Marathon that coming Sunday.
I was a sprinter who participated in two Washington State Track Championships in consecutive years (1986/87) as well as earning my School's Record in the 4x100M Relay. I thought to myself, “what’s the difference in running a few hundred yards to running a marathon? It shouldn’t be that hard.”
I made my decision to go down to the local Big 5 store and buy new shoes. They were some discounted clearance Saucony running shoes. Hey, $12 Bucks! They were my size and felt okay. As a sprinter, I never cared much for cushioning. The goal was to go fast and not get weighed down.
Mind you, this was 1996, limited Internet and races didn't have online pay capabilities. You had to mail your check and get your goodies bag at the marathon expo the day before. I just decided to run the event the day before and just bought the shoes. My plan was to jump into a mix of people and run the race. With thousands of people, I wouldn't be spotted. In race terms, I was going to be a "Bandit" (someone who doesn't pay for the race).
I didn't do anything different in with my eating the night before. I ate Lechon Kawali (fried pork) with white rice and drank Coke - "Dinner of Champions". I went to bed early at midnight so I could wake at 6AM for the 7:30 race start. I ended up waking at 6:30 or so, an hour before race start. I didn't bother to eat; again, I didn't want to get weighed down. If I ran too fast, I might just throw it all up. I put on basketball shorts, cotton t-shirt and my new running shoes. I didn't bother with socks, they would only weigh me down too.
Grace (wife) gave me a ride and dropped me of a block from the marathon start. I told her that I'd probably be on the road for 3 hours. I've seen Marathon on television before. The winners run in 2 1/2 hours or so. That means I'd be done in 3 hours, right? Hey, I'm not super human like those guys. But, I was a 27 year old guy, young, healthy and vibrant.
When I got to the starting area, there was a massive crowd of thousands, many in running shorts and Lycra tops. I noticed all the older runners were in the back. Again I thought, at 27, I know I'm faster and more durable than these people. So, I move up closer to the front of all the thousands behind me. When the race started, I filed in with the other runners who would walk up to the line then start running. "Asinine" I thought. I briskly got to the line as fast as I could and took off as fast as I could.
"Man, there are a lot of people," I thought. I gotta sprint the whole marathon. I ran like the wind but after mile one, my stomach growled. I was hungry already. I looked around and found a doughnut shop. Luckily, I carried my wallet in my basketball shorts. I purchased two doughnuts and a coke and took off again. It seemed the procession of running humanity never ended as I found myself running with others again. I was into my second mile going around the LA Coliseum when I felt the first twinge in my calf. "Hmm, I better stop for a second to stretch that out," I thought. I didn't get a chance to do it earlier since I didn’t have time to get from home to the race. With my 5 minute stretch, I was back on my way for the next 24 miles. However, the sprinting just moments earlier, turned into a brisk run. By mile 5 it was down to a jog.
"Mile 5," It thought. I'm doing pretty good, I've only been at this for just over an hour and I'm already at mile 5. I had always been pretty good at math until this race. If I would have thought about it long and hard, I would have realized that at that pace I was going to get to the finish between 5-6 hours. Two hours past the time I told Grace to meet me. But, I just kept going.
Since I had not paid, I did not have a race bib. It meant I could not get any water/Gatorade or food at the aid stations. Every mile was painful as some new ailment developed, blister, chafing, cramps, and soreness. With no support it became a game attrition rather than triumph of the vaunted Marathon.
The longest straight stretch was Hollywood Blvd through to Sunset. It was on that stretch I found a friend, (an angel really) who talked me through. She was a large breasted black woman; she could be described as “Flo” from "Good Time" back in the 70s. We had the same thing in common. This was both our first marathon.
As Hollywood Blvd became Sunset Blvd. We spent most of our time walking and talking about how great it would be to finish. She was definitely on her pace where I had no pace. It was a matter of suffering for me and I found myself trying to keep up with her.
At one point I found myself a mile from my house with 5 miles left to go. A simple left turn off Sunset and I would be at my house in less than 20 minutes. “It was quitting time,” I thought, "No shame, no one even knows I'm out here doing this." But this woman asked me a simple question. “How are you going to feel about quitting after 20 miles?” I pondered that question for a mile, then two miles. By the time I gave myself an answer the question was answered for me. I was now 2 miles from the finish and much farther from home. “Nice trick Lady!”
As I sensed the finish coming, I notice more cars passing and almost no spectators. This woman and I were almost the only ones left on the course. When we reached the end, the chute leading to the finish had a clock reading something past 8 hours.
The wonderful woman got me to the end. Unfortunately, we separated there. She had a bib and was allowed to go down the chute. As I watched her, accept her medal, I was so thankful to have met her. I turned back and started heading for a payphone to call Grace. But the woman yelled for me. She came back to me, gave me her race bib and told me to go through the chute. She said, you made it this far, you might as well get something for it. I took the bib, walked through and received my medal.
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| Los Angeles Marathon 1996 |
They say you’ll never forget your first. This is true. They also say, “The Person Who Starts the Marathon is NOT the Same Person Who Finishes.” This is also true.
My 1996 Los Angeles Marathon medal is one of my most cherished running accolades. I was not the same person after that run. I was humbled, in pain and humiliated by my own arrogance. In the end, I endured and didn’t quit. It also taught me that angels in the City of Angels exist in many forms and I was blessed to have one guide me to the finish.
I enjoyed your story. I am sure you were not the first and won't be the last with a tale like this. That was a whole generation ago now you are just a blur when I pass you on the trails. :)
ReplyDeleteThank You. Enjoy your running. It truly is a gift. See you on the road.
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