The Journey

Last month, I set out to run my one (and only) half marathon. I had set that goal earlier in the year, but life got in the way, and I had to postpone it. So I reset the goal, and set my sights on the Myrtle Beach Marathon in October. As the time got near, I increased my distances, getting myself ready for the longest and most difficult race I would ever attempt. To this point, I’ve done many 5k’s, but never even a 10k. This would be a challenge for me, not just the distance, but to be frank, I’m just not a great runner, I’m a plodder, I definitely don’t look like a gazelle or anything close to that running down the road, more like a plow horse or basset hound.

I picked the Myrtle Beach Marathon because my Mom lives there, and I also love the beach. The sales pitch they use for this marathon is that the last several miles are run on beachfront, which really appealed to me. The day before the race, I did my usual preparation, ran a short run with Laurel, trying to maintain my usual preparation. Two things struck me as I ran that day that gave me pause for concern. One, and the most obvious that I had thought about already, was the humidity level, and how much it drained me. Two, I realized that the race was taking place the day of my parent’s anniversary (that's them pictured above), and having just lost my Dad in June, it was an emotional time for me.

As the day arrived, I felt that I was ready, I was nervous, but ready. The weather wasn’t kind, it wasn’t supposed to rain, but it was pouring that morning as we drove down to the starting point for the race. It did eventually clear up right around the start of the race, but by then I was soaked. Still, I was pumped, it was my first half marathon, and I started setting my sights on finishing in under 10 minutes per mile. Now I know for most of the world, that isn’t a lofty goal, but for me, it was. And that may have been where it all began to unravel. As the race began, I got caught up in the “mob mentality” as Laurel calls it, and I went out too fast, at least too fast for me. I saw people with T-shirts with a verse from Philippians 4:13, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” I was smiling, laughing, giving thumbs up to these people, saying, “I love your shirt”, I was living large!

I began to write this blog post in my head as I went along. I was going to talk about running in memory of my Dad, and for my Mom, and how meaningful it was for me to run on their anniversary. I was going to write about my inspirations for this run, inspirations from my present and my past. From my present, Dagmar Deamer, in particular, has inspired me for her dedication and drive to run, along with her running partners Sandra Rai and Cheryl Thornton. Plus Jon Clifford has helped me a great deal along the way with advice and inspiration. I thought about some of my former colleagues from Barco, Tracy Titcombe, Bob Clodfelter and Jim Cox. They used to get me out running at lunch time when we worked together in Xenia, and I’ve been watching Tracy and Bob on Facebook with great admiration as they have been running marathons. I was going to write about my niece Emily, who runs marathons, runs double marathons, is just such an incredible runner and has inspired me. I was going to write this grand and glorious blog post.

And then, the wheels came off completely. I tried so hard afterward to figure out what went wrong, there are so many possibilities, but things went horribly wrong. Things were going really well through about mile marker 9, I was slightly behind my 10 minute mile pace, and somewhere between miles 9 and 10, I lost everything completely. My lower back seized up completely, which had never happened to me before running, and I couldn’t bend over at all. I could barely run, I couldn’t really walk that well, and I had over three miles left to go. I know runners can understand this, but do you have any idea the overwhelming feeling you have when you know you have over three miles left to go, and there is nothing left in you? I kept running it through my mind, what went wrong? I’ve run longer distances, I’ve made it, not easily, but I’ve made it without feeling anywhere nearly this badly. My back was shot, I couldn’t bend over, my legs were spent, my brain wouldn’t work, and I had over three miles left to go!

OK, so I did make it, that’s about all I could say for it, I did make it. I somehow, agonizingly, crossed the finish line, and quickly started looking for Laurel to help me. When she came up to me, and I turned and looked at her, I could see from the look of horror on her face how badly I looked. She immediately said, “We have to get you to a medical tent.” I refused and asked her to just help me walk out of there, I was so stiff, I could only walk completely upright, I was afraid I was going to fall over backward.

Physically, I recovered fairly quickly. Mentally and emotionally, it took quite a bit longer. I searched and searched trying to figure out went wrong. I changed my shoes for the race because my Brooks had died the week before, so I went with my Asics, and I had never run long distances with my Asics. As noted, it poured in the beginning, so I was cold and tight to start. I got caught up in the “mob mentality” and went out too fast. I was going for a goal of 10 minute miles, when I probably should have set a goal of finishing. It was a completely flat course, which I’m not used to, I usually run hills. All of this simply didn’t matter, the bottom line, the cold reality, I failed. I let all of the people down that had given me inspiration, I had so much to thank them for, and I failed.

As I drowned myself in my self pity for the rest of the day, as we drove back from Myrtle Beach to Georgia, it took Laurel to remind me of who I am and what I believe. That brings me to the picture and the saying below. Dave Carr inspired me yet again, and I created a notecard to send to people for special occasions. While it may be self-evident, it is something I believe in, the journey is as important and as much fun as the destination in many cases. I used a picture of Snickers riding in the car, because Snickers just loves the journey, if dogs could smile, he would be smiling (I really think he is). She said to me, “I guess you don’t follow what you tell other people. Was the most important thing how you finished in the race or everything you did leading up to the race and the fact that you ran the race and you did finish?” And of course, she was right, she always is.

And I thought about my Dad then. When he died, my brother Jim talked about how my Dad was our biggest cheerleader. I thought back to times when I would look at a situation and believe I had failed, and he could come up with a different view, a different slant, of why I had done so well. It wasn’t just me, it wasn’t just Jim, it was his grandchildren, it was anyone. He could find a reason to cheer you on when you felt like you had no business having someone cheer for you. So yes, I could hear my Dad saying, “Wow, that was great what you did, you finished a half marathon!” He wouldn’t ask about the time, did you run the whole way, were turtles on the beach passing you to the finish line, he would just be impressed at what you accomplished and that you were in the game, giving it your best.

Well, that was supposed to be my first and last half marathon. But there’s no way I’m letting it end this way. I have started training for my next half marathon, I have to redeem myself for that one. And I’m going back to the one that beat me, it’s not the same one, or the same course, but it’s back to Myrtle Beach, I have to beat this one. February 2014, Myrtle Beach is the destination. The journey begins, and it will be just as important, and just as much fun, as the destination. Game on.