Resolution Resolved: The Rochester Marathon

As mentioned in the previous post, yesterday, I finished my first marathon. Having always wanted to run a marathon, and as cliche' as it sounds, I committed myself to doing so this past New Year's Day. I had competed in cross country and track during high school, but as I made my way through college and parenthood, running had fallen by the wayside. I stopped and started over the past four years, most convincingly last May when my wife had bought me beautiful pair of running shoes.

When I found out that my "home town" was hosting a marathon for the first time in many years, I set Saturday, September 17 as my target date. I had been preparing for this particular marathon since last February, running a number of 10k races and two half-marathons, the most recent, only two weeks ago.

Finding the motivation to finsh the race was very challnging. On more than one occassion during the race, especially after the 18 mile point, visions of quitting began popping into my head. I'm ashamed to admit it, but more than once I thought about tearing my number from my shirt and crawling under a bush. I had run through the areas before and knew where the pay phones were. But I kept pushing, occassionally walking for a minute or two, then slowly trotting on my way. I also knew that not only would this be dissappointing to me, but to my wife, who had been so supportive, and would be waiting at the finish.

Earlier in the morning I had written a quote on the palm of my left hand to motivate me during the race: "Pain is temporary and pride is forever." I must have looked at my palm twenty times in the space of ten minutes...

In retrospect I probably went out too fast; my first four miles were run at about a :08.00 minute pace, and in the end my average time per mile was :09.01. My final time was just under four hours (my realistic goal), and I was glad to b able to move my body in a semblance of 'running' as I made my way around the baseball outfield that led to the inflatable finishing gate that had been set up by the race promoter.

Although it was an excting visual for those watching the finsih to have the runners enter the stadium, I hated having to climb the stairs after running 26.2 miles. Exhausted after the race I could barlty stand and needed to brace myself against a metal barrier before making my way up the stairs. When I did make my way up the stairs, I gave my wife a kiss, handed her the finisher's medal and began feeding on the apples, chocolate and soup which was made available to finisher's.

At that point I told her I would "never do this again." After a day of sleeping and a growing sense of pride, I am looking forward to signing up for my next race... just not a marathon... yet!