The trees were bending and whipping as I peered through the windshield of the truck. It was spitting rain. The wipers were on their highest setting. I was on my way to Bartlett for the start of the Mayor’s Midnight Sun Marathon. My mother-in-law would say: "It is nasty." She would be right, it was nasty. Shit. I looked over at the passenger seat. The Walmart bag nestled there contained a brand new hat and gloves. I'd pulled over on a whim. I hate being cold. The five dollar hat was cool and I thought that the same would be true of the five dollar neoprene gloves... until I pulled them on my hands at the beginning of the race. One was a size large, the other one wasn’t, it was an artery constricting size small. Nice.
Due to construction at Bartlett High, no parking was allowed, so I sat in the Takatnu mega-complex parking lot along with everyone else, rain pouring down. I was there forty minutes early and I had to pee. I decided to dart over to the McDonald’s. There were six women standing in line outside the women’s bathroom. For a moment, I thought I was at a Bon Jovi concert. I wondered if there has ever been a McDonald’s overrun by such a fit running crowd before. There were over fifty marathoner’s milling around inside the Takatnu McDonald's. Some were actually in line ordering food (Egg McMuffins?), but most of them, like myself were looking to off load.
Eventually I would make my way over to Bartlett where I would first be met by a barrage of twenty port-a-potties in a row that were backed up twenty women deep. In the periphery, men could be found tucking in shirts and everything else as they returned from various sections of the Bartlett woods. Everyone had been diligently hydrating and was trying to squeeze out every last drop before the race. It’s no fun making a pit stop during a race.
A gigantic sound system cranked thumping beats interspersed with witty DJ commentary. “Five minutes left!” He announced. Finally the Alaska Flag song sounded followed by the National Anthem. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to introduce you to Anchorage Mayor Dan Sullivan.” During the awkward pause four people clapped. I’m pretty sure it was the four Japanese runners that cut-me-off at the expo the night before. I’m sure everyone else would have clapped too but they were preoccupied with important last minute race details, like blowing snot from their noses, or picking their shorts out of their butt-cracks. “Remember, our motto is Big Wild Life, so look out.” OK Dan.
“5,4,3,2,1...bam.” The gun sounded like one you might find in the bottom of a cracker-jack box. The guy next to me looked over at me and said “really?” We took off out of the parking lot, into the wind and rain and towards the inevitability of our respective racing destinies.
Despite the rain and wind, I was feeling good, ticking off 7:20’s and 7:30 minute miles. At mile nine I saw Hazelee waving and smiling and cheering. She had made a sign and she was waving it proudly as I ran by. My dedicated support crew of my Mom, Dad, and daughter were with me all day long in and managed to make it to the majority of viewing areas to cheer me on and monitor my progress. All was going great until I hit mile 12.
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| Nipples McGee |
I felt a dull pain in my left leg, it wasn’t my knee but it was just below that. It hurt to put weight on it. I wondered if I would have to quit. I discovered that I could stop, stretch and alleviate some of the pain for about a mile. So went the progress. Stop, stretch, slowly run another mile. My dreams of beating my first marathon time disintegrated with each passing mile. Shit.
About mile 16 I glanced down and noticed two strawberry sized red stains on my shirt. Coincidentally they were located over each nipple. “Huh?” I thought. Some of the powerade I’d slugged down on-the-run was a reddish color, maybe I spilled some. “That’s funny.” I thought.
As it turns out it wasn’t funny at all. An hour later when the pain hit, I realized that I'd rubbed the skin off my nips. Not only was I in pain but I realized that I’d run the whole second half of the marathon with two big red nipple-stains front and center for all to admire.
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| Hazelee supporting her dad as he pulls over to stretch his weary bones. |
Several days before the race I had considered downgrading to the half-marathon. Although my overall training mileage seemed adequate I had, essentially taken the last three weeks off floating the Yentna, visiting my family in Ellomar and sport fishing for kings at the cabin.
“You’re not thirty anymore”. The advice from a trusted coach was well received but I’ve always been stubborn. For me thirty years old was 12 years ago. My first marathon was only five years ago and I did pretty good posting a time of 3:31. I surprised myself on my fast-ish time.
This year I was supposed to be ready. I had logged in almost 600 miles of running since August and I had competed in several races including the inaugural running of the Kasugi ridge race, the Willow Winter half, and the Mission Gorge 15K in San Diego. I had to be ready right?I made my way past miles 18, 19, and 20. My pace had slowed considerably. I noticed several of my running compadres nursing similar pains. "What a wuss." I thought about myself. Somehow I'd pigeon-holed myself into the gimp-crowd. Finally, as I made my way up the final hill leading to the finish line. I could hear the cheering crowd and the bumping party music. I managed to pick up my pace to something that resembled a kick as I narrowly squeezed my way past several middle aged ladies that were running the 5K and blocking the whole chute. I darted past them to the finish.
Nips bleeding, legs in pain, and dogs-a-barking, I collected my ridiculously large medal and shirt and hobbled my way over to the beer tent. Let the healing begin.
