Where is the ibuprofen, hot shower, and a masseuse?!
26.2 miles. Hmmmm. . . who would do such a crazy thing? Well, as I have learned over the past few months, there are thousands of people who run
marathons or participate in other endurance events. My first taste of this fascinating world was everything and much more than I expected. To say
that it was worth all of the pain is a gross understatement.
Marathon Training/April-August: It's time to make a serious change. Now is the time to transform my life. Everything was going as planned until the day I was doing repeat quarter miles on June 20th. I was getting stronger, feeling faster, and getting very fit. But, after increasing my mileage and stepping up the "speed work" beyond my prescribed training plan, I injured myself and felt like an old man as I nursed the latest version of an old basketball injury (left calf--ouch!). It was more painful from a coaching perspective knowing that I had committed a cardinal training sin by trying to do too much, too soon! But, I was going to find a way to stick with my goal of finishing the Park City Marathon in August (not the easiest course, but it fit my schedule!) and getting the TRANSFORMnow Scholarship Fund started. So, I had to adjust my goals and forget about chasing the 4 hour mark, even though my times and training had me on track for that type of finish. Now, I just wanted to get to the starting line.
I spent hours at Registered Physical Therapists (Bruce Applegate is my hero--and a big thanks to Laura and Tyson--you two are great!) getting treatments while trying to maintain some semblance of fitness by biking, swimming, and light jogging (this change in my training, along with the encouragement of a friend, has me interested in entering the world of triathlons next year). OK, back to the marathon. The bottom line: Bruce got me ready to jog, limp, and whatever my way through this thing even though my longest run was 19 miles on June 16th. I did suffer through a 13 miler on August 4th in beautiful Laguna Niguel, California--the only thing encouraging about that run was the scenery. The crossing-training kept me fit, but certainly did not prepare me for the 26.2 mile beast. Jogging 3-5 miles is one thing--running for 26.2 miles is a different animal. And, knowing I would have to alter my gait and run slower than I wanted to, I was excited but very nervous about the outcome. Hey, this was going to be my first marathon. I am thinking on the bright side. I can do this.
The Day of Reckoning/Mile by Mile Report:
Pre-race: My support team (wife Stephanie, son Jordan, and daughters Heather & Amber) and I trek up Parley's Canyon to scenic Park City. Hundreds of runners circulate the starting area in sub 50 degree temperatures. I am nervous, but I follow my planned routine. This is weird and cool all at the same time. My memory bank notifies me that I have not entered a competitive race since 1982. Yikes! The atmosphere is electric and I cannot help but wonder about the many "stories" hidden beneath the hundreds of moisture-wicking outfits. I know why I am running--but, why is everyone else here? The national anthem is belted out at 6:30 a.m. and then we're off. This is very cool . . . after months of waiting, payday is here.
Mile 1-2: Calf is ok, I am soaking in the sights, smells, and sounds of my first marathon. People are talking, laughing, and getting warmed up. The real marathoners are already long-gone. I listen to my calf and make sure I don't go too fast as a guy in Mickey Mouse ears cruises by me. I remind myself that even though I have lost 50 lbs. I am still a 200 pound "Clydesdale"! Whoooooaaaa, slow down.
Mile 3: I put my headphones on and settle into a slow, comfortable, safe pace. I grab my first water and can't help but laugh as I think of the Seinfeld episode with Kramer and the hot coffee at the NYC Marathon. :)
Mile 4: I can do this--piece of cake. First Hammer gel. Vanilla. Sticky and semi-yummy. Calf is better than I thought, but be careful cowboy.
Miles 5-6: OK, no problem. I can even handle watching these women pass me up. I read the back of a shirt--it says "For Robin" underneath the picture of a pretty girl. So many stories out here--I feel the adrenalin kick in. Let's roll.
Miles 7-9: The Rail Trail--a gradual 2% uphill grade. Dodge a couple of cows and dozens of cow pies. Several pebbles find their way into my shoes. Nice. Hey, who is that? It is my support team cheering me on at a checkpoint and there is Steve Park, too, decked out in a Red Sox t-shirt! Calf starting to burn a little, but I am pumped now and nothing will stop me. Keep the faith, keep the pace--I am imagining future scholarship winners.
Miles 10-15: A somewhat lonely stretch as we begin a steeper climb into Park City, but Eddie Van Halen and Collective Soul keep me rolling. Hey, there is that support team again! I stop and remove the pebbles from my shoes and get a little "you can do it" pep talk from the gang. Mr. Park is so motivated now he announces he is leaving the course and is going to go do a run himself! Catch ya' later, boss! More gel and water. Hang tough.
Miles 16-19: Alright, how long is this stinkin' race? The miles seem longer and more difficult. The climb up to Deer Valley now begins to challenge my mind and body. Pain is setting in and I try to dismiss it. I ignore my brain telling me I have not been beyond this point before. There is a brief moment of laughter and distraction from the pain as Heather and Amber appear and run with me for about 200 meters when I enter old Park City. The "easy" part is over, I now begin the real race. I pass a guy who has run a marathon in all 50 states (his shirt listed the states and dates) and give him a fist pump. He eeks out a smile and we keep pushin'.
Mile 20: OK, that sucked--there is no other way to describe it. I just climbed the 18% grade known as Empire Street. The only good thing about it was the enthusiatic teens who were doing their rendition of "Eye of the Tiger". Thanks kids. But really, who was the sadist who put that hill on the course map? Ouch, I hurt. Quick Porta Porti stop--nothing serious. I spend the next half mile conversing with a sympathetic woman (she saw my obvious pain and weakness and asked me if I was OK?) who is running the Grand Slam (running 5 of the 6 big Utah marathons) and is overcoming a foot fracture. Everyone has a story. I regroup and tell myself to just keep moving.
Mile 21-25: The hardest physical thing I have ever done (college math was harder, but it didn't nearly kill me!). Because of the altered gait I have been using to protect my calf, my right hip is beginning to hurt bad. Running downhill is more painful than I expected. Think of a needle getting jammed into your joint. Oooouuuuucccchhhh! I begin thinking about Tyler Daines, Megan Rees, and I picture my father running with me. He has always been with me. This is tougher than I thought. I crank the volume on a series of Boston songs and try to visualize my family at the finish line. But, the realization that my training was not sufficient along with my aching calf and hip makes me question why I am doing this. Push, persist, and prevail. The mind games begin and the pain continues with every pounding step downhill. Downhill hurts more than uphill. I pass a few people and get passed by many others--you don't ask any questions at this point--the answers are written on everyone's face. I give myself a Rick Bojak pep talk and tell myself the end is very near.
Mile 26: OK, this is what I have been waiting for and I know I am going to finish. Appropriately enough, "Somebody Get Me a Doctor" by Van Halen is blaring on my MP3 player and Heather greets me with a big smile a few hundred meters to go. She runs with me until close to the finish line. I see the red arch that marks the end of the course and I am flooded with emotions as hear my name announced when I pass through the gate. The family is there and I sprawl down on the warm grass exhausted and elated. I conquered the beast even though it was about 1 hour and 20 minutes slower than my original target. A jogging, limping, painful 5 hours and 21 minutes. I'll take it knowing that someday I will actually run a marathon.
Post Marathon: Aches, pains, a lot of food/drink, a 20 minute hot shower, a relaxing nap, and total euphoria. Now I know why people do this and I also now know why I am going to do it again. What an amazing experience! Those of you who do it, you know what I mean. Those of you who haven't given fitness or a healthy transformation a shot, just think about it. You are capable of so much more than you think. Try it. Think about a 5K or a 10K. Do you like to swim? What about biking? Or a triathon? Or even just walking with your sweetheart or your fluffy friend? The sense of accomplishment is tremendous! The improvement in your health and fitness will make every other part of your life better! And that really is what my marathon and the TRANSFORMnow Scholarship Fund is all about. If I can get off my 20 year couch and become an athlete again, so can you. Transform yourself . . . now.
--Steve Galley
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