What follows is a true and honest account of the 2005 Tucson Marathon, that took place on 04 December 2005.
I couldn't sleep the night before the race so I got out of bed right at 3:30 am and drove to the CDO high school parking lot. Buses left there from 5 to 6 am. I was on the first bus. Everyone was talking about their previous marathons, where they were from, why they decided to run the Tucson marathon. It was still dark and cold when we got to the start, so we mostly stayed on the bus. I got out to stretch my legs, eat a banana I brought with me, and try to get used to the cold. There was a DJ from "Desert DJs" set up at the starting line and he was really excellent. Playing songs to psych us up and friendly banter in between to put people at ease.
They kicked us off the bus at 7 am, so that people could put their drop-bags of clothes in the appropriate bus. Thusly we were forced to mill about in the cold for a half an hour. A few of us discovered a hot air vent coming outof a generator for the DJ equipment and we huddled around that trying not to freeze to death. There were maybe five or six of us at this hot air vent that simply did not want to leave it; everyone else was lining up. Some people were wearing plastic garbage bags. I was in what I was wearing for the run: shorts, a long sleeve thermal undershirt, and a short sleeve running shirt. I wished I brought a garbage bag and some mittens. A lot of people brought extra clothes (gloves, sweatshirts, hats, etc) that they shed during the race. My plan was to start out cold and end up hot.
They packed us in at the starting line. The DJ was playing that big hit song from OutKast, Hey Ya, right before the start. The gun went off promptly at 7:30 and we started walk-jogging for maybe the first two or three minutes. By then we spread out enough to actually run at our own pace but we were still packed in pretty tight for the first couple miles. There were about 1300 people registered and 1000 people finished. This is a really small marathon (NYC was about 35 or 40 thousand). But to me this was an incredible experience to be running this distance with this many people.
The whole first stretch through Oracle (maybe five miles), the authorities had the entire road closed off, and we took up the whole thing. Many Oracle townspeople came out to stand on their front lawns at the edge of the road and gawk at us, some of them ringing cow bells. I suppose as a demonstration of solidarity.
I didn't bring a watch to pace myself, and instead went by how my body felt. The trouble with this (as it turns out) is that the adrenaline and pent-up energy of the start is so high that you feel a lot better and end up running a lot faster than what you can maintain for long. As it dawned on me that I went out too fast, I began to force myself to slow down, but it was unpleasant being passed this early on. About mile eight I finally started letting people pass. By then we were running down the Oracle highway towards Oro Valley and people in cars and bicycles drove and rode along side cheering us on. Some of them shouting words of encouragement through bullhorns. Occassionally at different intersections there'd be small clusters of spectators. Some of them had signs focusing on one particular runner, but most of them cheering on everyone. In any event, I was grateful for every spectator, volunteer, organizer, and runner that came out to do this thing.
By about mile ten I was starting to hurt a little; not sure if this was due the unrelenting downhill nature of the course, or because I went out too fast; most likely both. At mile fourteen I was getting a bit worried because the pain was increasing despite my best efforts to slow down. After about this time, whenever we hit an aid station (every two miles) I would stop, get a couple cups of a sports drink (it WASN'T Gatorade), which I would drink while walking fairly slowly stretching out my legs, walk for maybe about ten or twenty seconds, and then start running again. Most people would try to pick up a single cup of liquid (water or sports drink) slowing down just a little and then get right back to their pace. Each time I'd do this I'd recharge and feel better for a while, and then run with whatever pack I'd end up in. Sometimes I'd pick up my pace and catch the the people I'd been running with before the water break. Sometimes I'd just run with whatever new pack I'd ended up with. I found it was easier to be passed this way than passed on the road.
At about mile seventeen I decided to start streching my legs, increasing my stride. And I started passing people again. Not on purpose. I'd just be runnning alongside someone, and after a while, either they were slowing down or I was speeding up, and then I'd be running towards the next group. In this way, I got to talk with, or just run next to for a brief moment, a number of truely extraordinary people. A small number of runners were yammering on with each other for what seemed like the whole time I'd be in their pack, I couldn't fathom how (or why) they did this or how long they planned to keep it up. A little conversation here and there was enjoyable and helped to take the mind of the miles; but I couldn't imagine talking through the whole ordeal.
The most I'd ever run in practice was 20 miles. So everything after that was uncharted territory. I didn't actually hit a wall, as many do at mile 20 or 22. But instead, the running became progressively harder and harder. After mile 22 I really didn't care to be running anymore. All sorts of body parts (including my lungs) were hurting, tightened up, and/or just plain exhausted. But I felt that to stop would have been disastrous towards the aim of finishing this race, so I banished any such thought from my mind. At this stage we were in mostly small groups of three to five runners with five to ten second (running time) gaps in between the groups. A long unbroken chain of runners with you, ahead of you, and behind you. And virtually no one in this chain was stopping or even slowing. In this way we drew encouragement from each other's resolve. It was a small heartbreak to see anyone fall by the wayside.
And at this point the spectators were getting thicker, right where they were needed most. Their support really was uplifting. Don't get me wrong. It's not that the pain ever went away, it's just that after a while you just got used to it, and then you could start enjoying the run again. And I really did enjoy passing Honeywell's campus (where I used to work) on the left - which was only about two miles from the finish. A little further on was La Reserve Drive (where I used to live). Indeed I would be finishing this thing literally on my old home turf.
At mile 26 (that long dreamed of number) I was with a couple of young women who were in really good spirits. Joking around and laughing. One gave a pretend shove the other, which in reality would have knocked her to the ground. The pretend shover said: "see that canope of balloons there, that's the finish", or at least that's what I heard. So I said,"this is the time to use up whatever we have left" and started kicking it in. I thought I was going pretty fast (all things considered), and when I hit the balloons I noticed this wasn't really the finish, there was a bend, where you enter a chute (with a nice crowd on both sides). There was still another 100 yards or so to run.
I like to give my spectators their money's worth. So I threw caution to the wind and really started sprinting down that chute. I figured if I blew a gasket, I'd have the time I needed to recover. So even though I didn't think I had anything left in me at all, it turns out that I did after all. I passed a few people, some of whom didn't want to be passed and started sprinting in as well. I heard the finish-line announcer and crowds cheering but I couldn't really make out any actual words. I was just focused on crossing the finish.
I crossed right behind one guy that didn't want to be passed. We gave each other a high-five and congratulated each other on such a spectacular finish. The race official approached and asked if I was alright. I looked him in the eyes and said, "yeah". What else could I say? It was awesome.
I was in a daze for a while, didn't even realize to look at the race clock. Before I knew it some kid was cutting the chip off my shoes and someone else presented me with a Tucson Marathon medal fashioned in the shape of a saguaro cactus. Our state plant. I'm not big on ostentatious displays of accomplishment, but I put this medal around my neck because there was no way I was going to let it fall out of my shorts pocket. I hobbled over to the food tent where they gave us cut-up dry bagels, cut-up green bananas, and candy bars. I wasn't really hungry but they say you recover faster if you eat right away. So I forced a small piece of bagel down, which got lodged in my throat. I was eventually able to flush it down with a bottle of vitamin Water. The thought of drinking any more sports drink nearly made me puke. I think I would have liked a small bowl of soup.
I hobbled over to where the drop-bags were. Some kids organized by the volunteers would see a runner limping towards them, pick up the bag with the runner's bib number, and run it over to him. "Every step counts" one of the volunteers said. Once I put on my nice thick brown hoodie and black sweat pants I started to warm up again and I felt pretty good. I decided to go back and watch the runners coming in. There were two girls (from Vail I think) who were up in a small tower thing with a microphone and they were cheering in the runners. They'd see the number, look up the name (say it was Herbert), and call out: "You're almost done, Herbert!" and "Good job, Herbert!". It was cute. I felt sorry for them though, because their job seemed more arduous than the running.
After a while I went back to the main field where they had about 20 chairs set up to watch the awards ceremony. I talked with some of the runners I had met at the pasta dinner, some I met on the bus, and others I had the pleasure of running with during the actual race. There was a Star Bucks tent giving out free hot mocha whipped cream things. This went down really smooth after four hours of watered-down piss-flavoured sports drink. I don't normally endorse the Star Bucks corporation, but on this I give them kudos.
Finally they gave out the awards. It turns out this guy from Delaware won the race (with a 2:28:16) and his fiance won the woman's race. And this was the first marathon for both of them. Incredible. As for me, I finished with a 3:43:00 (I was hoping to finish in four hours). The evidence is at:
RunRaceResults. Type in bib number 252 into the form.
Thus ends one runner's account of his first Marathon.
