NY Marathon 2008 Race Report

As always, I'm a sucker for a race, a bigger sucker for a marathon and the biggest sucker of them all for a race that is in NY as a guide for the Achilles Track Club of NY. And after the light week of training following the Marine Corps Marathon and the unusual spike of energy I felt on Monday morning, I was excited by the prospect of going at a faster pace in this year's NY Marathon. At the very least we would start with everyone else in the first wave (NY just started using waves this year: 9:40, 10:00 and 10:20 expecting everyone to cross the start line no later than 6 minutes after the gun goes off) and it would be a completely different experience than last year's 2-hour headstart. I was in for a fight, but a fight worth partaking in. Problem was, I've never guided a blind runner. I don't know any blind runners, let alone blind people. And I've only met two blind people in my life. So how was I going to run a 3:10 at someone else's pace not to mention holding a towel or string or something of that sort to connect us throughout the entire race? These were questions to which I had no answer.

The race came upon me sooner than expected and before I knew it I was standing at the Javits Convention Center in NY getting my bib number and spending more money than I thought was possible on merchandise - and for those who know how much I spent on IM Arizona gear, you know I have a problem. But what the heck, I like to enjoy the event and why shouldn't my creditors as well? (You're welcome VISA. I hope you enjoyed the NY Marathon as much as I did.) And great news!!! Russell, who is an employee of ACHILLES, a fellow actor, in charge of the guides for NY and one heck of a sweet woman, landed the jackpot for me. As I was about to leave and rest up for the night she informed me she landed a 2nd guide for my athlete Mario (Mariusz Golabek) and I. His name was Simon and he was the ACHILLES coach from Kenya. Unfortunately, the club from Kenya didn't get their VISAs and paperwork in on time, but Simon made the trip nonetheless. Oh, and he can do a 2:50 marathon (OK, now who didn't see that coming from a mile away...he's from Kenya, duh.) SWEET! My fears lessened with the ability to switch the tether between the two of us, I head to Brooklyn for an evening of relaxation. The only other issue tomorrow could be a language barrier, and with a Pole, a Kenyan and an American that shouldn't be too much of problem, right?...right?...hello?

With the added boon of daylight savings, I marched out the door towards the subway, removed the gook from my eyes, clung to my styrofoam container of oatmeal and waited for the "L" train. The 5am bus towards Staten Island and the sea of nearly 39,000 awaited me. It's amazing to me to see so many people out and about at that time in the morning, and even though this is NY, the site continued to impress. Luckily, ACHILLES has their own buses for all AWD athletes (Athletes With Disabilities) so the early morning hubbub was lessened greatly and we all enjoyed the ride. That would be the end of the joy. When we arrived, Staten Island greeted us with a wind chill that was unexpected, a temperature that froze your toes and a tent for ACHILLES that's protected from everything but the wind (someone had the bright idea to have the "open" side facing the wind...smart, real smart). We were 0 for 3 with over 3 hours to go before the start of the race. If things were going to get worse, I was clueless as to what it could be. But their was light at the end of our tunnel. Simon sat next to Mario on the bus and during the ride he discovered Mario was shooting for, at best, a 3:30 marathon, but realistically around a 4-hour run. Now I won't lie to you, mentally, I did the happy dance. And even better news, Mario isn't blind, he's visually impaired. He's a "close talker" -- out of necessity of course, which means no tether required. Woo-hoo!

Our long search for hot water, hot chocolate, hot coffee...anything hot ate up most of our time and before we knew it, we were stripping down to our racing shorts only to wait for another 30 minutes 'til the gun went off. Now, the amazing part of this year's race was, for me, that we were in the main pack. 3 waves, ours being the 1st, 3 corrals, ours being Orange and 3 runners: Mario, Simon and myself. As announcements were made clothes flew left and right from every runner, athletes relieved themselves at will and music was playing. We were jazzed. The mountainous climb of the Verrazano Bridge lay before us and we didn't care. We cared about the wind the might we across it, but the steep incline was welcomed - anything to get the heart rate up. The National Anthem, Mayor Bloomberg's well-wishs, the Gun and then...............Frank Sinatra's "New York, New York." It was incredible. We were all singing, dancing to the music, enjoying the moment and then we were off. The 3 minutes and 20 seconds it took us to get to the start wasn't too bad and a minute later the jubilation of the race was gone, the music was faint and we were racing. An 8:14 minute mile to start off. Not bad considering the uphill climb and with a 3:30 projection at best, we were looking to do 7:30's the whole way. Mile 2: 7:00. No big deal. With the massive downhill a fast mile would be expected and life was great, for all runners. It was a massive sea of paparazzi runners. Every 100 feet another would climb onto the bridge divider and snap a few shots: one forward, one backward, power off, place in fanny pack and go. Unfortunately, a forgot my camera back in DC, but with an originally predicted 3:10 pace, I couldn't afford such a luxury. Mile 3: 7:14. A perfect pace and with Mario removing his protective layering, we were now ready for a smooth sailing day...or so I thought. I'm not sure what went through Mario's mind, maybe he was excited, maybe he felt he was losing too much time by taking off his warm-ups or maybe he just can't read his watch, in any case, Mario took off like a bat out of hell. More specifically, a cat that effortlessly weaves and dodges its way through a crowd. So "effortlessly" that Mile 4 was a 6:45 mile! What in the world is going on? I was struggling. I wasn't warmed up enough to start doing 6:45 miles--my feet were still frozen from waiting on Staten Island for almost 3 hours. Besides, if you're gonna predict a 3:30 marathon at best, let's try to stick to the plan---6:45's are nearing the 2:55 mark. This is ridiculous. My only hope was to keep Mario in sight, thanks in large part to his yellow hat and once I was warmed-up, join him at his side. Yeah...that didn't happen so much. Before I knew it, Mile 4 had gone and so had Mario. Worst yet, the corrals were about to converge up ahead and my chances of find Mario in a crowd of 13,000 were much less than our starting corral of only 4,500. I wasn't expecting to do that kind of running nor was I warmed up to do it. At the very least we should pace ourselves so we can finish strong, right? No chance. Around mile 5 or 6 I was warm enough to start dropping some 6:45's myself guessing I would see him soon. I scanned the crowd dilligently for any yellow hats, but to no avail. At one point the course made a right hand turn which allowed me to see nearly a 1/2 mile ahead of us...no Mario. This adventure called "guiding" was turning out to be a failure. But lo and behold I caught back up to Mario a little before Mile 13. This was absurd. I had already wasted so much energy catching back up that I was unsure if my body could handle the overdrive that I was putting it in. In general, I'm a steady runner who will usually have negative splits and a strong kick at the finish, but with this morning's antics, I wasn't sure I would have ANYTHING left at the end. For those who aren't runners, I can only liken it to starting your car up on the coldest winter day and going from 0 to 60 in a few seconds expecting the car to perform in top condition---it doesn't happen. Your car needs to warm-up and so does my body. I truly thought that if there was going to be a 2nd Achilles guide at the halfway point as expected, I might just call it a day. No such luck - we couldn't find the 2nd guy. Oh well.

So there I was, running this erratic race/pace and I a feeling it's only going to get worse. Once I catch up to him and stick with him we proceed to do crazy miles: 6:45, 7:15, 7:00, 6:50, 7:22. $#$%%@!!!!! Let's just be consistent. It's like flooring the gas and then braking all in one motion. But I'm here to guide, right? I lose him again. Who's guiding who here? This time he had to relieve himself, which is OK, but tell me! I slow up and wait to successfully find him again only to lose him once more on the bridge. Is he ahead of me? Behind me? I'm not sure. He's the type of runner with bursts of speed weaving in and out of others and 5 minutes later getting paced by those same runners, to do it all over again a few moments later.

Finally, I assumed he was ahead of me and I took off to find him. No such luck and before I knew it, I had reached mile 22. It was at this point I thought to myself, "Hey I could set a PR for myself, but I thought better of it and decided to hold up and do some 8:00 miles hoping that if he WAS behind me I would find him. Nope. By the time I reached the 24th mile, I said "Screw it!" And took off for the finish. Dropped a couple nice miles and finished strong, honestly shocked to do a 3:10 with the lack of training an erratic energy wasting pace that happened all day. Later at the AWD tent a woman from Poland would come up to Janet and Genna while I was right there complaining that Mario didn't have a guide. I was a little upset, but explained to her the issues when you set a goal and do NOTHING to reach that goal. NO communication, NO pacing...nothing! Mario ended up doing a 3:19. A 1:32 1st half followed by a 1:47 2nd half. Clearly, his lack of pacing made him blow up at the end. He's a good runner, but you'd think he would understand pacing a little better. I guess the language barrier WAS and issue...not because I couldn't understand him, but because I was never close enough to talk to him. :) Oh well. Despite working harder than expected and a little frustrated, I still had a great time.

OH, and Simon, the other guide from Kenya - he was dropped even before I was around Mile 3. I guess genetics don't help you much when you get older. But still, a 2:20 marathon...that's crazy.

Overall, it was a wonderful day with great weather and a unbelievable crowd. Truly a marathon everyone should do...especially if you're from NY. (and yes Mr. McClure, that comment was geared towards you.)

Marine Corps Marathon 2008 Race Report

So another year of training has gone by and my first full (well, that is debatable) triathlon season has come to an end. But before I could even think about what my fall racing series was going to be a received a phone call. ENTER Janet Patton and Genna Griffith: co-workers and colleagues in the acting world and more importantly all-stars for the ACHILLES TRACK CLUB of NY. You may remember last year when Janet (who was working on Nobody's Perfect over at the Kennedy Center with me) asked if I was interested in running the NY Marathon as a guide to a disabled runner through her organization up in NY. "So you want me to run the NY Marathon? One of the most prestigious racing events in the world, on your dollar and help guide someone through the race? Where do I sign up?" Forget the fact that I had just raced the Marine Corps Marathon the week before, getting to run in the NY Marathon would be unbelievable no matter how you participated. That experience was probably in my Top 5 of all-time experiences---so, why not do it again...this time twice. Run the Marine Corps Marathon and the NY Marathon, both as guides. If I could race one and then guide another last year, certainly guiding two races would be much easier...right?...right?...?

As my recovery time from IM Wisconsin stretched from 2 weeks to 3 weeks, which meant I only ran once and biked once during that time, I became a little worried about the marathons--not to mention I had committed to the Backyard Burn Series this fall. As you know, the BYB Series began on the 19th of Oct. with their first race so if all goes well, I would be racing every weekend except one until Thanksgiving. Overachieving? Not really...not if everyone does around a 4-hour marathon. Emphasis on EVERYONE. That luxury was quickly dispelled when I found out the gentleman I would be guiding in NY wanted to run a 3:10 marathon. Now I'm capable of running a 3:10 marathon---I might not walk the next day, but I could pull it out of my ass. But that would mean training needed to start ASAP with no hiccups. My goal: Get some long runs in of about 90-120 minutes long, continue my speed work at the track on Wednesday mornings, race the first BYB 10 miler and use Marine Corps Marathon as a training run for NY. Sound good? Great. Will it go according to plan? No -- Not when you find out that the gentleman you're guiding in MCM wants to do a 3:30 marathon. That's an 8-min/mile pace which isn't incredibly difficult, but it will allow very little time to recover for NY and run a 3:10 there. Panic sets in, but what can you do?

I met Neil the night before at the pasta party thrown by the Arlington's Station 5 Fire Department and was excited to hear he had also competed in IM Wisconsin last month. I was even more excited to hear he hadn't been running too much since the race and was hoping to only do around a 4-hour marathon (9-min/mile). With the weight of the off my back, I settled into to some late night discussions with a few of the athletes, pleasantly relieved I was going to have to run all out tomorrow. The race would indeed become the training run I had hoped it would be for NY the following week.

Race morning came sooner than expected and with the alarm buzzing and my clothes pack I dressed myself in my 2XU compression shorts and calf tights, threw on my hat, searched 30 minutes to find my gloves and headed out the door. Metro in DC opens at 5AM on the morning of the race and with our plan to meet at the Rosslyn Marriot Hotel, the morning would go smooth as silk.

Neil and I, along with Sarah - his girlfriend, walked down to the start line a little early to watch the handcrank athletes take off and then settled in for what should have been an easy day. With a little nip in the air, an extra T-shirt or jacket to stay warm at the start and an extra dose of the "Crazies" this year's marathon promised to be picture perfect. The weather forecast was probably the best I've seen for any marathon I've run and with the new course changes (running around Hains Point earlier in the race than usual) the race now provided the perfect PR opportunity for any seasoned marathoner. But I wasn't racing, just helping out Neil.

RACE

I'm often forgetful of why I race. My usual answer is because there's no hatred on race day. Everyone is out there wishing everyone well. There's a sense of community that only comes with understanding the sacrifice everyone has made to get there. But more importantly, it's a wonder to be a part of something grander and bigger than you could ever imagine. 30, 000 people congregating on to one tiny speck of the planet. An infinitely small space when looking at the big picture, but to my eyes the magnitude of the event itself is overwhelming enough to make your heart stop and wonder at the miracle that is life. You're reminded of all that you're thankful for and before you're done, the gun goes off and the race has begun. I'm not even "competing" but this sense of gratitude is unshakeable for the first few miles. It's hard to run up those early hills without laughing and crying at one another. One athlete dives across the street to kiss his wife and say goodbye to his son ensuring him they'll see each other again in a few short hours...hopefully even sooner. Another drops his gloves, he's misjudged the temperature. And several athletes misjudge their bladders. It won't be the last time you'll see a sea of runners relieving themselves in the woods, but two dozen at the edge of a parking lot - that doesn't happen too often. It's a day full of unabated shame and humility in which one could careless at how they look, rather how they finish. Today vanity takes a back seat to glory and in a world of Cosmo and Vanity Fair, it's a breath of fresh air. Today finishing is more important than winning, yet for some showing up is the most important of all. And today, allowing yourself to be pushed harder and farther than you could ever imagine is the name of the game. So what makes this race different than all the others I've run? I'm not caring. I'm not pushing myself. I'm not doing the calculations in my head, not carrying the one, not dividing by 2, no longer reconsidering my strategy - I'm taking it all in and loving it. Last year's NY Marathon was different, we had a 2-hour head start on the field which provided it's own beauty, but I had never been in the middle of the pack looking ahead at sea of runners knowing there were that many behind me too. I never had the chance to witness the trials of another runner, I was too worried about my own. But not today. Today I take it all in.

As we passed the spot where I made my choice last year to attempt a 3-hour marathon (and fail) I noticed we had been almost running for an hour. I had no idea. Neil and I chatted along the way, discussing everything from sports, to school to IM Wisconsin and when time allotted, we told some jokes. Most importantly, we had fun, and the first sign of the fun to come was the Key Bridge. What a sight! The cold morning air, combined with the rising sun and temperature had left the Potomac river a virtual river of fog. As we approached the bridge ahead and looked left, the belly of the beast had begun to engulf the bridge. Runner after runner made the turn and slowly disappeared, being swallowed whole by mother nature. For most is was an awesome sight and for others the zero visibility and lack of Georgetown up ahead loomed large in their minds. What lay ahead in the darkness and blindly fog was unknown - they were in uncharted territory. A perfect metaphor for the rest of their day.

With only the tip of Georgetown's tower looming overhead, the scenic race continued through the tree tunneled roads of the Macarthur Blvd. Beautiful to say the least. And as the sun began to blind us as we made the turn back to the Mall, the waves of steam escaping off the heads of those in front of us, it was just another reminder that body temperatures were rising and the 10 mile mark loomed ahead. It was around here that my job began. Not for Neil, but for a couple of handcrank athletes. They weren't from ACHILLES, but it mattered nonetheless. They were athletes needing assistance, and that's what I was there to do. So with a burst of speed and some fresh legs that I was unaware existed, I surged forward preempting the catastrophe ahead that was called...a downhill. For those of you who are familiar with Georgetown and the hill connecting M street to Macarthur Blvd. are certainly aware of the steep grade it possesses when heading out of town, but few know the harrowing quick descent it owns when you're in a handcrank wheelchair barreling downhill at 20-30mph while dodging a few THOUSAND RUNNERS! Needless to say, I say what could have been a disaster, sprinted past the "chairs" (that's what everyone calls them on the course) and shouted "Make a hole in the middle! Hole in the middle! Make a hole!" Easy enough right? Not when everyone is wearing a pair of headphones. I said it last year and I'll say it again. For the safety of everyone involved, you should not wear headphones in a race. But if you must, still be cognizant of your surroundings. WIth a nasal voice and a determined outlook, a path was made, the chairs were safe and I was out of breath. Thank God for water stops. Refueled with a little bit of Powerade and water, said goodbye to the two guys,spotted Neil and we were off again. We had hit a bit of an incline getting on to M Street so the chairs were slowing as we continued to maintain our pace of 9-min/mile. All was well...except my lungs. :)

A slight turn onto Rock Creek Parkway, running past the Kennedy Center and on towards the Lincoln Memorial we evaluated our level fitness and comfort. "If we continue to do this and feel good at the end, we can probably haul ass to the finish line over the last 6 miles," Neil said. "Sounds good to me." I reassured him, HE was going to set the pace, not me. I was just their for support. He nodded at this without making a sound and trotted along, found Sarah in the crowd, kissed her hello and caught back up. We were comfortable, we were getting confident, we were nearing the halfway point and we were happy to be getting through Hains Point without any problems. That might explain why we started doing an 8:45 mile pace. Now, 15 seconds is not a lot, but it was enough of a sign that both of us felt good. Great in fact--much better than expected. This run was actually shaping up to be a pretty decent training run. And then it happened. Mile 16.

I'm not sure how it happened, maybe it was just my need to help out, but my instincts took over again for the 3rd time that day. I began to clear the way for two more chairs. Now I'm not 100% sure, but I'm pretty confident that it was the same two guys from earlier in the day, but this time there was no hill, only the flat road surrounding the Mall. Ergo, they were traveling at speeds faster than everyone else and no one was getting out of the way. Time for another surge, only this time it wasn't just a surge. Neil came along with me - Neil had now become the guide instead of the guided. (Which makes sense since he finished IM Wisconsin at only the age of 22. CRAZY!) The dynamic guiding duo of Neil and Kip cleared the roads. "Move to your right! Make a hole! Chairs Coming!" Whatever we needed to say we said, however fast we needed to run - we did. And wouldn't you know it - the chairs got faster!!! (Sidenote - I think the reason I love guiding wheelchairs so much is that it's never boring. Slow on the uphills, fast on the downhills. It's a never ending roller coaster of speed work.) Mile 16, Mile 17, Mile 18. You concentrate so much on making people get out of the way that you're oblivious to the mile markers. We've done 3 miles already? That's insane. And before I knew it we were approaching Mile 19...a disastrous Mile 19. Why disastrous? Disastrous because I was an idiot. I was an idiot because I assumed I would only have to clear the road of runners impeding our way, not spectators too! I was an idiot to think that spectators who not attempt to cross the road in the middle of a race! I was an idiot to assume people would look both ways when crossing the road! I, apparently, was an idiot. (Have you picked up on the sarcasm yet?) And this wasn't just any woman, she was clearly over 200lbs. and she had fallen straight onto the midsection and then legs of this athlete. Legless and metal plates and screws in his right arm, the woman had just committed this guy to a death sentence. Chair #512 was in pain, but miraculously nothing broke. Not his arm, not his prosthetic, not his chair. It was miraculous. And had the woman not been in such deep remorse for being...you guessed it...an idiot, I would have gone off on her. But this was not the time nor the place, #512 was OK for the most part and the race was passing us by. We the moved the wreckage off the road, I stole a swig of her Vitamin Energy drink and we took off. (Hey, it was the least she could do.)

I looked for water for both the guys and had no luck, the next aid station was only a jelly belly stop and my guys were dehydrating. Even the little incline near the Smithsonian castle was proving too much for #512 and I already knew before they did that their race was a metaphoric uphill battle from here on in. And yet this whole time Neil was right there with me. Each time we hit the downhills he would eventually catch us on the uphills, it gave us a sense of purpose - To make sure these guys were taken care of. But soon our chivalrous acts were becoming less and less. #512 was having a hard time and with the 14th Street bridge looming ahead, I knew it was going to be rough. But what should I do? Stick with Neil and stay behind and make sure these guys made it in safely? I didn't make a choice. I didn't need to. Neil made the choice for me. He told me he was going to go up ahead and continue on. He knew these guys needed my help more and sacrificed himself for them. I asked him if he was sure, and he said, "Absolutely." I told him that once we finished the 14th St. Bridge we would catch back up to him...but it was never meant to be. I never saw Neil again during the race. I kept looking for him at all the turnarounds hoping to gauge how far ahead of me he was, but it never happened. I even entertained the idea that if the chairs were "OK" after the bridge, I would jump the race and join up with Neil making sure we finished together. I wanted to finish together, even if it meant I wouldn't have actually completed the whole race. I was OK with that, but it wasn't in the cards. I learned later Neil finished a respectable 4:10. Nice work considering he hadn't run over 10 miles since IMWI almost 7 weeks prior. I couldn't say that about my two new athletes. It was #512's first marathon and he had hit the proverbial wall. The 14th St. Bridge was killing him. I had flashbacks of Laura in NY last year when I had to help her up the hills at the end, but I didn't want to do that this time. I knew by looking in #512 eyes, he wanted to do this himself. No pushes, no pulls - just himself. It was awhile before we finished that section of the course, but it was over now and as we headed to the off-ramp I told him there was only one more hill to go...the end...Iwo Jima.

There's a beauty and a power knowing the course when you're racing, but it's something different when you're guiding someone else through it's pitfalls. "Just up ahead we'll do a turnaround. Only 1/2 a mile until we get water. Sharp right up ahead!" I looked for anything I could use to break up the race into smaller chunks for them. Mileage markers, turns, hills...they all became tools to motivate them to go faster. And now the biggest motivating factor came into play...they could smell the barn. After a quick bathroom break for the two of them we made the turnaround in Crystal City and headed back towards the Pentagon and eventually home. The finish line was only a few short miles away and these guys had been troopers, but #511 wasn't about to let #512 finish alone. He made have been stronger, he may have been faster, he may have even weighed less, but he was a friend and there was no way he was going to finish this race without his buddy. 23, 24, 25...the crowds were growing, 25.5. Only .7 miles to go, 26.......................And something happened that many did not see coming. #512 couldn't make the hill. His arms were too tired. What had become a victory on the 14th St. Bridge had now become the underlining cause of his defeat. He was trashed, tired and tried. To come all this way and come up short is heartbreaking. But somewhere, somehow #512 reached deep within himself and made his way up. Not up the hill, No. Up and out of his seat. With his left hand grabbed the front of his chair and with mine holding the opposite side, we both stood there looking up at what was in all practical terms, to him, the Mt. Everest of hills. But today there was no snow, no ice picks, no glorious mountain-top view of the world. There was only a medal and a Finish line...and I was his sherpa. I took one look at him and asked him, "Are you ready?" And with that he began what I consider the most inspiring .2 miles I have ever seen - that certainly anyone who was at that finish line has ever seen - and, in what I could only describe, as the most deafening feat anyone could witness. Deafening because there were only two sounds I heard. The first was each and every step that #512 took on his two prosthetic legs up that grueling climb and the other was the sound of jaws hitting the ground once they realized what they were witnessing. The crowd was stunned to silence. As each individual grasped the concept that this man was now out of his chair for the last few feet of this race after having been through sheer pain in the latter half was mind numbing to them. Literallly. As we shuffled up the hill you could hear the crowd get quieter with every step. I caught the eyes of one woman as her brain processed what was happening. And I raised my arm. Raised my arm so violently I thought it was going to come out of my socket. Raised it as to say, "Come on damn it! Start cheering!" And so they did, louder and louder as we neared the finish line. A lot of Marine Corps sayings were being thrown around every which way, none of which I understood except in sentiment. They were proud, they were happy, they were respectful, they were grateful this man had served his country and they were in awe. And then...nothing. It was over. He did it. #512 had done it. Congratulations were spread around and as I shook #512's hand I said,

"I'm Kip."

"I'm Zach."

"Nice to meet you Zach. Congratulations!"

And with a hug I continued up the ramp, grabbed my food bag and headed for the hotel.

Andrew Tong #511
Yelm, WA M30-34
4:37:16

Zachary Briseno
Fort Worth, TX M20-24
4:37:34

Neil Schalk
Richland, WI M20-24
4:10:00

NY Marathon Race Report

NEW YORK MARATHON 2007

Pre-Race: The week after Marine Corps wasn't too bad. A little stiffness, only 10 shows this week, and my cold had been conquered. What I didn't expect was the extra drama that would ensue. On the Tuesday morning show I proceed to hit my head on a metal beam in on of the boxes on stage. For those who have seen the show, it was during the Hamster Rap. (If you didn't see it and you're confused, you should be) It wasn't just a tap, it was a NFL helmet to Hamster helmet hit. The concussion type. After writhing in the wing, I go back on stage, dizzy and finish the show. EMS was there after the show and deduced that, "No, I did not have a concussion. But, yes, that I was stupid." Being cleared to continue, I finished out the week with a bump on my head and some tightness in my neck. No big deal, I'm tough. Right?

Thursday rolls around and all I have to do is two shows, catch the 2pm bus, pick my number up, buy something at the expo and take the bus back. Well, with a 12:30pm show starting 5 minutes late, I arrive at the bus station at 2:03pm. Just in time to see the bus back out of the parking spot. Perfect, I actually made it. I run outside wave to the driver to indicate I'm on that bus and he then proceeds to give me the "neck slashing" move that all the NBA players were fined for a couple of years back. Evidently, I didn't know I was playing a game, but nonetheless, I was just given my 2nd technical and tossed out of the bus riding game. The driver stares forward and refuses me entry in the lane and drives away the win. So much for goodwill.

Game plan change: The 3pm bus won't get me there until 7:20pm, 20 minutes after they close. And if I drive, which would suck, I couldn't guarantee my arrival due to traffic. Plus I would have to park, get gas, etc. The only option that might work is the train. So $117 later, I catch the one-way train and arrive in NY at 6:30pm with half an hour to spare. (Though it was expensive compared to the $35 round trip bus, having an electrical outlet and room to use the computer was incredible. I got so much work done.) After dashing off to the Convention Center, I get in line behind a couple other people at the Achilles Track Club table to register.

SIDE NOTE: The Achilles Track Club (ACT) is an organization that provides disabled athletes the opportunity to race. And with there partnership with the NYC Marathon they recruit runners to be guides for athletes in order to provide safety, help getting drinks and food, and additional assistance when needed. The deadline to sign up as a guide was back in September, but since my friend (who was the understudy for my show) works for them, once she found out I was a good runner, gave me an application to fill out and personally handed to the head honcho in her office. For your assistance you get to run the race for free, a finisher's medal at the end, a T-shirt to race in and the regular runner's goody bag (Official race shirt included). You can check them out at http://www.achillestrackclub.org/

So though Janet got me in, I was only given a "Standby" slot, which meant if someone didn't show up or needed additional assistance, I would step in. Plus, there are guides at the halfway point to assist other guides and athletes should they need extra help as the race goes on. So I wait patiently as another worker chats me up. Asked if I was a guide and I said yes. Asked if I run a lot....yes. Just ran MCM. How'd you do? 3:03. What? You did a 3:03? Yeah...." This conversation becomes important very soon. Finally, the woman processing the ACT guides and runners gets my confirmation letter, sees that I'm a standby and starts to run down the list of things a standby does when all of a sudden you sees my name. "Oh, you're KIP!" "Yes," I replied...worried what that excitement meant. And then I found out. I, Kip PIerson, went from DC Tri Club guy and 3:03 marathoner to rock star status in a flash. The entire crew went into hyper-drive. They were making phone calls, checking lists, checking them twice, having covert conversations all while I stood right there. My picture was being taken...I didn't understand what was going on. And then it hit me. I was to be paired to one of there special athletes, Laura, who's 18 and doing her first marathon with a goal time of 3:15. WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!! A 3:15? Are you kidding me? There's no way I can do a 3:15 after MCM. I yelled, "Are you CRAZY!?!?!?!? (on the inside) and just nodded my head as if everything was just fine. What had I gotten myself into? I'm screwed! I got my bib number, all the information packets on what's expected of a guide and was determined now to spend some money. If I'm doing a 3:15 in NY, you better believe I'm getting some merchandise to boot. After dropping $200 and perusing the all the vendors and headed out the door to catch the 9pm bus back home only to get stuck in traffic and arrive in DC around 2:30am. So much for resting up for Sunday. Yet, despite it all, I was truly excited about the whole thing...from running the course, being the NY, helping out....I couldn't have been more excited. Except maybe the 3:15 part.

After an extremely easy 7 mile run on Wednesday and taking it easy down at Hains Point Thursday morning, I closed my show with two performances on Saturday and caught the 6pm bus up to NY. On the way, I phoned Karen Lewis (the woman who best knows Laura) and she told me that 3:15 was no longer an option and that we were now looking at a 5 hour marathon. Whew!!! But still, five hours on your feet running is probably longer than I've ever run before in my life.

Got into NY just fine, headed out to Brooklyn to stay with a friend and before you knew it 4:30am was here. Thank God for Daylight Savings Time--I needed the extra hour, which made about a total of 4 1/2 hours of sleep. Got dressed as fast as I could and headed out the door to 36th and 5th Ave. by 5:30am. Met up with Laura who's a sweet girl from Orlando, FL and her Mother. It turns out Achilles has and Achilles Kids Program as well and Laura is the first one to do the marathon. She also lost her father a year or two ago and was dedicating this race to him. Even though I may not be religious, I am spiritual, and couldn't help but pray that everything would go well for us both.

Luckily, Laura was in great spirits as were the rest of the guides and athletes, which provided me the opportunity to relax and ask questions that were on my mind. If she has to use the restroom, what do I do? Are there handicap port-a-johns? Should I help at all? Push? Encourage? Get water/gatorade for her? I hadn't a clue, but everything would known soon enough. And if I didn't know, someone else could help me understand.

The ride out to Staten Island was great. It gave us time to meet and chat, tell some good jokes and become familiar with one another---and by the time we got off the bus, I could time she was nervous, but glad I was going to be with her the whole way through. I couldn't help but get excited myself. I was like a kid in a candy store. 5 boroughs, 5 bridges, one of the most spectacular races in the marathoning world and we would get a 2 hour head start. How awesome is that? You get to traverse these bridges by yourself. I can't tell you how excited I was. There were so many parts of NY I had never been to before and now I had the chance to soak it all in. No pressure. No worries about breaking 3:00. Just enjoying my time out there with Laura and helping her cross the finish line.

RACE:
8am came soon enough, and this time there were no long lines for me at the port-a-johns, so we were good to go. We had already straped her in and were ready.The gun went off, camera crews were everywhere and the ATC Athletes were stars.

8:03am The realization that the Verazanno Bridge is a mile uphill sinks in. I notice that her big ring is in the lowest gear, but her small ring is in the largest gear. I try to suggest that maybe she could go lower, but she says it's as low as it can go. Oh well, it just might be a long day. I'm thinking maybe 6 hours. Plus, it is damn cold on that bridge! Laura is having issues getting up the bridge, but we keep telling her that she's halfway there and this is the hardest it will be. With a little help here and there we near the top and you must remember what goes up must come down. I surge ahead in an effort to make it to the bottom before she does---fat chance---and by the time we hit the bottom were 2 miles down and already 40-some minutes into the race. At this pace, we could be out here for a long time. Laura's friend and fellow hand cyclist Nadine (see picture), checks in to see how we're doing and I relay the whole lower gear issue. She tries to explain it to her, but to no avail. Looks like we're doing this whole race in only 3 gears. Shit! This is going to be tough on her.

9:00am Nadine has bike malfunction. Her right handle which is made specifically for her paralyzed hand in order to strap it in---snaps! She has a guide of her own and knowing we were struggling to begin, we forge ahead knowing she'll catch up.

9:30am Nearing the halfway point of Brooklyn, Nadine catches up to us---her right hand strapped in with medical tape. A poor man's fix, but what are you going to do---complain or play on? Nadine choose to play on, even though it was painful and meant it wasn't going to be easy. It's around this time the crowds start to show up in larger numbers and Nadine is great about cycling ahead and telling the crowd that "Laura's coming! Laura's coming! Let's hear it for Laura. It's all about Laura today!" And the crowd would respond. It was good thing I had my orange shades on---I couldn't help tear up. She was right, it was Laura's day and the crowd was cheering for her and her alone. Who else could they be cheering for? I noticed her smile would brighten and her pace would pick up too. TIP #5: If you're not racing, be a spectator. The love, time and energy you give is immeasurable. It could be your scream, your yell, your words of encouragement that make the difference. I realized for the first time, it's not just you who's racing. You have a whole slew of teammates 26.2 long, and you bet your ass they are with you no matter what. Be a leader and cheer. It was also around this time we went by Paul and Mariana. I can't tell you what a joy it was to see them out there that early. I know it wasn't for us, but it was great. (Thanks for yelling guys!)

9:45am The elite wheelchair athletes came flying by----flying by. The returning champion had a huge lead followed by another gentleman and then a flock of 6-8 more who were tucked in and drafting. Did I tell you that they were flying? Fun little fact: I never knew that the wheelchair elite have guides too. But their guides are guides in the pure sense and on actual road bikes flanking each one and blowing their whistle to ensure their safety.

10am We near the halfway point and Nadine has already given me the sign to help out Laura. Though one day I may have thought it was cheating or unfair, today I felt compelled to give her my all so she could continue. So with a low seat back, I bend down and push her up the hill. Like the burning in your legs from tough squat workout or a ride up Mt. Weather, my legs winced and yelped for forgiveness. I silently answered grunts of apologies, but trekked along. I knew at this point, every hill from here on out she was counting on me.

13.1 miles into the race and I get some relief. Nadine has dropped her guide miles ago and now I'm watching out for both of them while periodically having pulling Laura over to readjust her in the seat. It appears the leg harnesses are too long and every couple miles we must pull over and correct the problem. So out come 3 more guides from the tent, one for Nadine and two for Laura. Though I didn't need help, I wasn't about to shun them away and at the very least they could help take turns pushing her up the hills. Oddly enough though, at this point the in the race, Laura was my athlete and I was hers. We were in this together. As they would help I ran up ahead to each corner pointing which way to turn. Yelling if she needed water or gatorade and dashing ahead to cut down on time lost. I even made her eat some food. Without it we would be sunk. Tip #6: Carry extra salt tablets and Gu's with you. Most AWD don't know nearly about nutrition as they should, especially having to be out there for several more hours than we're use to. Though they might be weary of "new" things, they need to eat something. Try to carry multiple flavors.

Mile 16--We near Manhattan and as we attempt to take the bridge the elite women came by us neck and neck. Apparently, from watching the replays, they were like that the whole way. It was amazing! You normally see them at the start and BAM! there gone. But actually being on the course run alongside them gave me such an appreciation for their level of talent. As we headed into Manhattan I instructed the other two guides to run ahead, because this bridge was a long one. And no sooner had we reached the top, she was gone. So what else is there to do but run? And run I did. As I made to the bottom of the bridge, turned the corner and hit the straightaway (which was flat if not slightly downhill) I caught Laura nearly 1 1/2 miles ahead of me. SHIT! Ok, here we go. So I ran, and ran, and ran...and wouldn't you know it--I was running with the elite women---not the elite-elite, but 15-30th place. How awesome is this! And I was holding my own, not for 26.2 miles, but right then and there. As I caught back up to Laura, Nadine had checked to see if Laura was in good hands and I said, "Absolutely." Nadine's hand had begun to numb and she could no longer keep the slower pace that Laura was achieving. As more and more elite runners had passed I would look over and yell some words of encouragement to them and to my surprise they did as well. I was dumbfounded, these women may not have been leading the race, but they were close enough in my book---and to take the extra effort to say "Ditto," "You too," "Nice job!" "Let's go Achilles!"----it was inspiring. TIP #7 Sometimes the bigger you are the more impact your encouraging can have. Just ask Laura and I.

Mile 18--Sirens are blazing, horns are honking and a pack of motorbikes are forming behind my left shoulder. The lead men. Not one, not two, not three, but 9 guys came rolling by. I've never seen such fluid movement in such a large mass. It was like that old Nike commercial with the runners moving as if they were a flock of geese. It was simple and elegant. Truly, a work of physical art.

12pm---We hit the Bronx and I can tell Laura is fading. I have to remind her on the hills that she needs to help me out and she obliges. The further we go the more comfortable and faster I get at readjusting her. I point out every downhill so she has an immediate goal insight. She knows we getting near the end. And thank god for the rolling hills. Not for me, but for her. I can push her up and once she's down onto the next hill I follow shortly behind. I've become her Calvary on every uphill.

Mile 22--We can smell the barn, the crowds are getting larger and we're loving. At one point Laura yells, "Is that the park? Oh my God, that's the park. I can't believe we're already here." But with the park comes more hills and it's going to take everything she's got to finish.

Mile 23--We drop our two extra guides. They can't keep up. There's no holding us back. I surge up the hills and as she's flying downhill and take off to catch up to her yelling "Cycle on your right, cycle on your right!" People must think I'm crazy. And as I'm running I notice I'm keeping up with these runners and I have been for a few miles. Not only that I'm passing them on the downhill. Not only that, as I push Laura uphill we're passing everyone. What is going on here? It's about 40 extra pounds I'm pushing and we're passing people? This is crazy. I wave my hands in the air and the crowds are going crazy for Laura and for me. I could have stayed like that all day long.

Mile 24 1/2--Downhill almost turns into tragedy. I can only yell so far and as she takes off downhill runners are getting in her way as I frantically scream "On your right!" The turn is up ahead and she's hit. Her one wheel comes off the ground and the corner is to sharp for me to see anything. I haul ass down the hill passing everyone to find Laura not at the corner but up ahead. She made It! I don't know how, but she made it through. And as I passed it was a spectator on the road she hit--Not a runner. TIP #8 If you are kind enough to cheer others on, get the FUCK out of the road. When cops and officials say stay on the sidewalk--that is why they say it! She could have seriously been injured.

Mile 26--As we near the end I'm amazed at how much I have in the tank after only a week of rest. A PR at MCM and I'm running 6:00-6:20 miles at the end. Again I push her up the last hill as I wave my arms in the air and the roar of the crowd explodes for her. I give her one last surge and sprint ahead riling the crowd up with 100 yards to go. I look back and scream at her to push hard. You're almost there. I'm jumping up and down like a damn hyena and I feel no pain and neither does she. I'm practically bursting with emotion and then it happens. Laura Arocho, 18 years old from Orlando, FL becomes the first Achilles Kid to ever complete the NY marathon in 4:54:04. And I can proudly say that this was one of the coolest things I've ever done in my life. Completing IMAZ, qualifying for Boston and now this. On so many different levels, I had the time of my life.

Post Race:
I got up early and went to the merchandise store at Tavern on the Green--not to buy anything else, but for $20 I got my name engraved on my medal and under time it says "Guide." I love that medal.

I'm going back next year. I had the option to sign up for IMFL yesterday and I said no. Why go down to the muggy FL temperatures and kill yourself in a race when you can come to the cool autumn skyline of NY and kill yourself for someone else.

I encourage us all to go. You have a fall marathon you say, make it Chicago, you'll be rested by then. If you're doing Philadelphia, look at it as a training run. And if you're doing MCM, just be dumb like me and give it a whirl. It will be the smartest dumb thing you will ever do.

Laura Arocho
Bib # W524
Chip Time: 4:54:04
11:13 mile/pace

MCM Race Report

Hello fellow DC Tri Club members! And welcome to my first race report.

I know RR's are a tradition, but my initial reaction when I joined the club was, "Race reports, how egotistical is that!" Yet, I find myself reading each and everyone of your reports to the point of exhaustion (even reading your old race reports on your personal blogs into the early hours of the morning, only to find myself having to be at Hains Point in less than two hours). And frankly, reading those reports has helped me become a better triathlete and competitor---I couldn't have done IMAZ without them (thanks Eric---your website http://conquer3.com/ proved most helpful). But what has compelled me more than anything was my need to share one of the best experiences of my life, yes---my life, and hopefully inspire some of you to join me in this journey next year. So now I embark on my own journey into race reporting which will hopefully begin a long relationship with my own personal blogging. Here we go....

MARINE CORPS MARATHON 2007

Previous Best: 3:09:14 Philadelphia Marathon 2003
Previous Worst: 4:54....Frederick Marathon 2003 (got hypothermia at mile 20 after being in 19th place after 18 miles)
Previous Best @ MCM: 3:29:17
Goal: Qualify for Boston again and/or break 3:00:00
Marathon race #: 9

Pre-Race:
The drama the accompanies great races isn't usually the race itself, but the drama that occurs prior to the race. The journey to get to the start line makes or breaks a storied run and my week leading up to the race was no different. A little less than two weeks away from the MCM I did my last hard run of about 17/18 miles with my brother on my side riding his bike. And let me tell you, had MCM been that day, I would have broken 3 hours easily. Fast forward three days later to Thursday and I can't run to save my life. I little run of only 7 miles proved to be an enormous task. Something was wrong. I was getting a cold. I pop every pill imaginable, attempt to get extra sleep and pray to every deity known to man and then some. In addition, I'm doing the show at the Kennedy Center---and wouldn't you know it, I have 12----yes 12---shows the week before the race. ARGGHHHHH!!!! It doesn't matter if the shows only a 70 minute whirlwind of a show or a 3 hour show---it's 12 times you have to get the adrenaline up, and 12 times you have to crash afterwards. So needless to say I'm worried. The dilemma comes down to this: Do I try to qualify for Boston or do I make an attempt at breaking 3 hours and possibly blow up? And if I BONK, do I bonk so bad that I miss qualifying for Boston altogether? Did I mention my parents are coming into town race weekend? Oh yeah, that's sure to be a stress reliever. (Truly though, it was great to see them--they got to see my show, my brother's show at the new Shakespeare Theatre, see the race and then have dinner Sunday night before flying out that evening---I figured if I'm doing a marathon, so will they.

Thursday:
Packet pick up time. I always recommend going the first day to avoid the crowds--and I was right. No added stress here.

Friday:
Shows go well, still tired, it's been raining all day, but luckily a friend comes into town to help out this weekend with whatever I need. (thank you Emily) I get my massage from my Brazilian gay masseuse Reinaldo around 1pm and I'm feeling great----Yet, as many of you know I'm also a photographer and I have a prior engagement to shoot the Helen Hayes Auction from 5pm to 11pm. That's right, standing on your feet for six hours shooting people who have too much money. It was a great event, but I kept looking at my watch counting the minutes until I'm in my bed---because they always say it's not the sleep the night before the race that's important--it's two nights before. OK, done. I'll be home by 11:30pm and be asleep by 11:40pm. Things always go according to plan, right? Remember it was raining all day and into the evening----unfortunately I didn't follow the weather channel close enough because it was raining in my basement as well. An inch of water had collected in not only the hallway, but my room as well. Apparently the drain, along with all the leaves blocking the hole, could not handle the large amount of rainfall in such a short period of time and proceeded to drain into my little cave dwelling. It's already midnight now as I mop and soak the floor---I have to be at Dulles at 7:40am to pick my parents up. Luckily my running gear isn't soaked, but with such an excess amount of water, I have to use every towel I can find and even enlist my dirty laundry in the war on TERROR!!! (translation: flood water). It's 2:30am before I fall asleep...7am comes very soon.

Saturday:
I step out bed directly into my sandals, pick up my wet shirt off the floor.....wait, why is my shirt wet? Wait, why is the floor wet? FUCK!!!!! The basement was flooded, AGAIN!!! Apparently after cleaning/clearing the drain, it rain hard throughout the night and Tada!!! More flooding. So I clean it up as fast as I can and head off to pick my parents up, late of course, and head to breakfast. The lack of sleep is not helping with my stress, but I can't do anything about that now. Fortunately, my folks will see the first of my 3 shows today and then head off to see my brother leaving me until I see them on the course in the morning. With 1:30pm, 4pm and 7:30pm shows I'm tired which means I'll be asleep quickly and home soon enough to lay out all my clothes for race. As my OCD kicks into high gear, I'm certain I'm ready to race---at what pace, I still don't know.

Sunday (race day):
Well, I've got sleep, I've eaten my breakfast (Trader Joe's Cinnamon Spice Oatmeal and a banana) and head to the metro. Living on Capitol Hill makes things pretty easy so my nerves are at a low frequency and the metro arrives promptly. So far so good. We get off at Pentagon City and I see Rachel Wadsworth, say hello, and notice people are getting ready near the Metrocard machines. SMART! Stay warm, dress here, stretch a little and then check your bag. Perfect, right? No. Little did I know, the start of the race was at least a mile away once we got out of the metro. My "time cushion" slowly began to dwindle. How long is this going to take? I didn't want to run, but I knew this was cutting it close---and yet there were thousands of runners around me. Tension began to fill the air along with the heavy scent of Ben Gay. By the time I get to bag check I've got 20 minutes until the start-----and I still haven't sent "my daily fax." I spy some port-a-shitters and do the math. 30 people, 20 minutes.......carry the 2......that's less than a minute per person. This wasn't going to work. If I wanted to be at the start and near the front I would have to take measures into my own hands--not literally. But the need to "make a conference call" outweighs all. And if I want to qualify for Boston, this has to happen. What to do? What to do? Look right, there's more people. Look left, there's more people. Look extreme left and there's trees. Look rig..........trees??? Slightly covered??? Possibly??? Are you kidding...absolutely. (Disclaimer: I'm 30 years old and have never graced nature with my "presence" or "presents"--whichever you prefer) TIP #1: Always have a terrible, old T-shirt to keep you warm at the start that you can afford to throw away. It will keep you warm and ready, plus it doubles as great substitute for TP. A couple minutes later and a few pounds lighter I run towards the start line---and it's almost another 1/2 mile away. This is ridiculous!!! By the time I reach the front I have about 3 minutes to spare. I position myself around the 7:00 mile group and begin to focus until I notice a larger women who's about 30-40lbs. overweight....in front of me. What the HELL is she doing here??? TIP #2: Be honest with yourself about where you are going to finish. For those of us who have trained months at an attempt to qualify for BOSTON or set a new PR, these people who believe it's alright to position themselves anywhere in the corrals truly mess up the logistics for everyone running. It's not only unfair and rude, it's unsafe. After a few maneuvers and a couple of do-si-dos, I positioned myself even further up near the front. Now it's me who might get trampled.

RACE:
I was warned the first 6 miles were hilly and they were right. A 7:20, 7:20, 6:40 for the first three miles followed by a 7:10 and 6:50. Chaotic? Yes. Stressful? No. Difficult to determine your pace? Absolutely. With my previous best a 3:09:14, I've never been at the front of the pack, never seen the wheelchair cyclists before out on the course and never knew how to run alongside one. With all the hills, the wheelchair athletes had a hell of a time getting out in front and staying out in front in the beginning. TIP #3: Do not wear headphones during the race. Too many times I saw cyclists barreling down the road yelling "On your right!" and no one moving because they were listening to some IPOD thingy. It's extremely dangerous for all involved. Granted, some people who didn't move were just oblivious to everyone around them, but what I fear the most is someone who's naturally oblivious and wearing an IPOD. Around mile 4 or 5 I caught up with the 3:10 pacer (qualifying time for me for Boston). With his little swarm of men attached at his hip and his 3 balloons marked 3:10 on his wrist so all could see, I became antsy. This was too slow and now I was boxed in. I point to the side to warn the runner on my right that I want out and he obliges. I merge running lanes, make a little surge and clear the pack. I just decided to go for 3 hours. It hadn't even occurred to me while I was doing it, but once I pulled ahead of the pace group, conscious or unconscious, I had made my decision. 3 hours was the time to beat and there was no turning back.

Once we hit the Kennedy Center I was in my rhythm and as I passed the Lincoln memorial my parents were there on the left, along with my brother, cheering me on. Things were going great, passed a few wheel chair athletes and kept a steady 6:49/6:50 mile pace. The weather was great, not too cold, and definitely not to hot. TIP #4: Wear some cotton gloves at the beginning of the race. It will keep your hands warm before you start and provide a nice wicking material for sweat, water, gatorade, etc out on the course. Plus, it can provide a barrier between your hand as you spill that millionth cup of water that day. Eventually you won't need the gloves and you can throw them on the ground. (Surprisingly, you'd be amazed at how much lighter your arms will feel after you discard them. It will give you some renewed energy. Heading back down Independence towards Hains Point you could begin to feel the wind pick up, but not distressingly so. Pacing was still consistent and I knew my friend was at mile 16 help pace me down the home stretch. Plus he was carrying a bottle for me so I wouldn't have to deal with the water stops---if elite athletes can have their own personal water bottles at the tables, why can't I have one myself? I feel no shame in this.

Hains Point: With my friend in tow, we ventured forth...backwards around Hains Point (how weird is that?) and by the time we hit the Marina side the wind began to retaliate for our refusal to give her the respect she was due in the previous 17 miles. Scorned by our indifference to her power, she struck back and fiercely. I took cover beyond the biggest runner I could find in front of me. Drafting illegal you say? Not in running. As I dodged and weaved from one Clydesdale to another the 14th St. bridged that had loomed in the distance stood before me. This was where things went wrong in 2003, but today would be different. With the wind at out backs, the 14th St. Bridge was a shadow of it's former self from years past. Flying up the hills as I am want to do I continue to surge past runner after runner. I even dropped my friend who was there to pace me. Determined not to left the wind affect my overall time, I knew I would need to make up some time from Hains Point and a slow start (mile 1-2). With that in mind, I surged as best I could. At the very least I knew, but tried not to say it, I had Boston in the bag. At mile 23, my friend found me again and we chugged along methodically picking off my competitors. Downtown was behind me, Hains Point and the 14th St. Bridge were as well, so was Crystal City now and soon the Pentagon. It's a great motivation factor when you have family at the race. You don't want their trip to be for naught. Mile 25 was here. My friend graciously fired up the crowd as I followed behind him. One mile to go. I could see the finish line, but it was on the other side of the road. For a brief second I entertained the idea of jumping the barrier, but at this point in the race I questioned whether I still had my "mad hops." (that's street lingo--for all you really white people) Thinking better of it, I run and run only to question...."WHERE THE HELL IS THE TURNAROUND!!! THIS IS RIDICULOUS!!!" After an aneurism and a mild panic attack, the turnaround came with my friend yelling at me to move my ass. This was it. The home stretch. With a little over a 1/2 mile to go I began my late surge. It always amazes me how good my kick is at the end of a race--no matter the distance. To date, I've only run against a couple of guys I know that have a better kick than me. That's not to say I'm the best runner, but if I have you in my sights near the end, I'd be the odds favorite to win. It just an issue whether I have you in my sights or not at the end. Needless to say, my kick did not fail to deliver, especially up Iwo Jima. And with my parents and brother there to cheer me on, I surged past a slew of runners, pumped my fist at the end and was elated. (You can actually check out the video of your finish online---and oh boy, how dorky was my fist pump and grunt? I nearly laughed for 10 minutes at how dumb I looked. In the 3:00 to 3:15 video, fast forward 3:45 into the video. I actually cross the line 3:03:49.)

Although the wind and my cold proved to much overcome, I still finished with a 3:03:36---almost six minutes faster than my PR in 2003 in Philadelphia on a much flatter course. I was 230th out of over 20,000 plus finishers and as of this posting, I'm actually 229th. Maybe I'll check again in another month and I'll be 228th. As my friend caught up to me I grabbed my medal and began to cry. I never know why, but I do. And today was no exception. It could have been that my parents and brother were there to finally see me run a great race (they were in Boston in 2004, the abysmal heat oppresive year to see me run a 3:49) or perhaps it was not knowing what the day was to bring and yet having it turn out great. I don't know for sure, but even as I write this, I begin to tear up again. I guess that's why I do this stuff. Maybe it's why we all do. And funny enough, I know I can break 3 hours. I'm so close that I don't even think it's an issue. If you want to know a secret, forget 3 hours, my new goal is 2:55.

After crossing the finish line and getting my picture taken another friend found me, Janet, and she informed me I had been given a slot for the NY Marathon the following Sunday to be a guide for an AWD (Athlete with Disabilities). I was beyond happy. But now it was time to rest, drink fluids and get my massage. After all, I still had two shows to do that day at The Kennedy Center. A 1:30pm and 4pm. Then it was off to dinner afterwards with family and friends. And let's just say I only needed one glass of wine. And now NY.............................

MARINE CORPS MARATHON 2007
Bib #11796
Clock time: 3:03:50
Chip time: 3:03:36
7:00 mile/pace
229th overall
217th male
44th in age division