The Big Moment Was Finally Here

The big moment was finally here. The ultimate test of all of my training, not to mention my willpower. I have trained for this race for six months. Every day, grinding it out, forcing myself to hit the trail. Or the treadmill, depending on what was on TV that night. No one would expect me to miss Grey’s Anatomy for some stupid run up hills around my neighborhood.


It seemed like such a good idea when I signed up. Of course, that was in the dead of winter, which I usually spend as a full time resident of couch-potato-land. Therefore, the idea that in a few months I would be forced to run 26.2 miles should be awesome motivation for getting lots of exercise and more than a little hard-core training. You would think, anyway. I know I did.


We all envision a more perfect future then we actually achieve. I am sure about that now. Well, at least I do. Cause I pictured me, fifty pounds lighter, super fit, cranking through this race like a dog after a squirrel. Not an old dog or a three-legged squirrel, but a silly energetic pup and a fully functional squirrel that lived to taunt the dog. That is what I really thought it would be like. Not so much, at least not so far. There is still time.


The start line was pretty exciting, all those people, mostly hopping up and down because it’s damn cold out at 7 AM and they’re dressed for the state they’ll be in twenty minutes after the gun goes off and the body starts to keep itself warm. Standing around in the morning is not that fun, but there was a lot of excitement in the air. It was palpable. There was even a host of giant bunnies there. They were people in bunny costumes and they all had different times posted on their over-sized ears. These were the pace bunnies. Apparently a bunch of people who had no larger goal in life than to run 26.2 miles at the exact speed that they claim, wearing a bunny costume. Lord, save me from the world’s overachievers, especially the ones with ginormous furry feet.


There must have been five thousand people here to run this race. Some of them, actually most of them, looked like they knew what they were doing and that they were about to kick some butt. I looked like I slept through 6 months of training and showed up to get my t-shirt. After all, I had paid $75 for that t-shirt. I was not leaving without it- that is true.


However, I was here to run this race. To challenge myself, mentally and physically for the first time. I could do this. I had trained and I had read everything I could find about running a marathon on-line while watching TV and carbing up- do you start that five months in advance? I wanted to be sure, so I did. King size Snickers count as carbs, right? Anyway…. I was as prepared as I would ever be. I had done what the books said, gotten in line for the bathroom upon arrival. Then, once I cleared the lovely porta-potty, I got right back in line, as that is what they say you should do. I have been hydrating for a few weeks now too, so you can imagine the results.


After a few trips through the “john”, I moseyed over to the other runners. They were stretching and prancing, preening even. They were all showing off as if they expected a pre-race talent scout to swoop down out of nowhere and offer them a contract on a new running reality show. Maybe called “Road to Nowhere”, or maybe “Roads Scholar”. That would be a good title. I would watch that. Maybe there were running scouts around; I guess you never know who is watching you.


I was trying not to get nervous. Trying to ignore the pressure building in my stomach. I have always been prone to the super-athlete’s curse of throwing up before a big event and while I had hoped that this would be different, I was not so sure. Remembering that running is 90% mental and 10% mental, I tried not to think of it, as though shutting out the symptoms would make the urge to purge go away. Don’t think about it….think of my happy place- a beach in Maui.


That’s better, maybe it will pass. And then it passed all right, passed right through my mouth and maybe even my nose and onto the shoes of all of the runners around me. And I’m pretty sure that my semi-digested breakfast soiled at least half of the pace bunnies’ furry feet, as I had eaten- still carbing up- a dozen scrambled eggs, ¾ of a pound of bacon (I could have eaten it all, but that seemed piggish), several slices of toast and half a gallon of OJ (hydrating). Those bunnies did not look at all amused and everyone moved away from me at warp speed. I took it personally. Like I had any control over that specific bodily function.


Anyway, it was time for the race to start. We all stood ready to go at the crack of the gun. Well, guns aren’t politically correct at races anymore, so they literally cracked a whip. Except the whip-cracker did not seem to have done it before and thus made several lame attempts before the runners just ran over him and his whip en masse. Maybe, if he recovers from 5,000 people running over him, he will think about perfecting his skills before the next marathon.


We were off. How exciting. I turned my iPod up- I like to hear my Barry Manilow loud when I am running- it helps me keep the tempo. So Barry was singing- it is possible that I was also, at least until I had to choose between breathing and singing. Then I chose breathing. The first several minutes I settled into a rhythm and my legs just pumped along. It was good. Many people were passing me, but I had expected that. I had not expected to be at the front of the pack, but rather the back and that’s okay. I am comfortable with my own pace.


Hours passed. Time slowed. It stood still. My mouth was dry, not to mention foul-tasting. Every step was a victory, as my muscles were starting to scream. I expected resistance eventually from my leg muscles, but was surprised that my feet hurt as much as they did and even more surprised when my arm muscles joined the chorus. My stomach was growling, as it has no source of energy whatsoever and it was not happy.


Remembering that it is all in my head helped. I ignored the torturous screaming of my body and instead focused on the tortuous screaming of Barry. I just kept plugging along- moving forward- one foot in front of the other. After what must have been several hours, I spied something in the distance. At last. I knew I could do this. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other and soon I will be at the finish line. I approached, ready for the celebration. I wondered where the tents and all of the runners were. I hadn’t seen anyone for a while, but surely they haven’t all gone home already?


Just a hundred more feet. I cannot read the sign yet, but I know what it says. Just keep laying one exhausted foot in front of the other. Never mind the legs that feel like rubber- that feel like they’re part of someone else’s body, as they’re not something that I have control over any longer. They‘re still moving but I have not felt them for the last 2 hours.


I am close enough to read the sign. Mile 1.



Copyright 2007 Antigone Lett. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.