ShoreTurtle – Running in and around New Jersey

Chicago Marathon

My first marathon last year in Philadelphia was everything that I had hoped it would be. My second marathon was nothing that I could have imagined.

Forty-eight hours later. I am still in disbelief.

I will remember the heat, obviously, but my most lasting memories will be the chaos and confusion at the finish—and the sirens. I crossed the finish line, got a medal and a heat blanket, continued walking and with each step realized how bad the situation actually was—countless runners in the medical tent, on stretchers and wheelchairs. Immediately after I finished, I got several missed calls alerts and voice mails on my cell phone. The messages were from my sister. She was okay. The race had been canceled. She was walking back to the start/finish from mile 16 with my mom and brother-in-law. I was confused. What? I called her and she filled me in on the details. What? Reality was starting to sink in. I told her that I would wait for her.

I met up with my wife and we sat down in a shady grassy area and waited to meet my sister. While we waited, we exchanged stories as about what our experiences (as a runner and a spectator). My wife was obviously worried about me. I was fine. There were so many sirens. It was upsetting.

Eventually, I met up with my sister and we walked back to our hotel. We took a different route back to the hotel, but I couldn’t help but think that this was how we had started the day–walking together to the race when the day held so much promise.

Walking to the start, I was definitely impressed with my sister. She was much calmer than I was for my first marathon. If she was nervous, she didn not show it. We both knew that the heat and humidity would be a challenge. We split up before the start. I lined up in the C corral. My sister was in the open division. In retrospect, I should have stayed with her. Several weeks ago, we had agreed that we should run our own races. My plan was to finish, get on the subway and run with her the last 5 miles or so. She was not allowed past mile 16 and we missed our chance to be together. She missed her chance to finish what she trained for months and months to do. I finished aware, but I immediately felt disappointment and frustration for everyone unable to finish.

The bright spot of the day was that Team ShoreTurtle/Princess Runner (my wife and my mom) were awesome. I saw them twice, right where we had planned (at mile 2.5 and 12.5). It really lifted my spirits seeing them. I counted the miles between sightings. At the first stop, I requested a wet towel, which was waiting for me at the next stop along with two more bottles of Gatorade. By then, I drank most of the 40 ounces that I had carried. I refilled the bottles, stopped for a couple of minutes to talk with them. I told them then, that I was going to slow down and JUST TRY to make it through the second half. I do not think that I would have made it to the finish with out that wet towel and extra fluids. I know that their encouragement and support helped me immensely.

Most of my marathon training long runs were in hot, humid conditions. Those runs were preparation in a way for the marathon. After I left team ShoreTurtle/Princess Runner, I consciously changed my behavior to duplicate those runs. I slowed down. I walked when I needed a break. I sought out the shade where I could find it. I thought about each mile, each half mile, and each quarter mile rather than the number of miles left. I tried my best to keep from overheating. I walked through ALL of the aid stations. More and more runners were doing the same. The aid stations and the volunteers provided temporary relief. I started taking a cup of Gatorade and a cup of water to pour on my head. I thanked all of the volunteers. I was fortunate that there was Gatorade and water at all of the aid stops for me. Many runners were less fortunate. THAT IS AN OUTRAGE. The wet sponge at one of the stops was terrific. The spectators that gave out their own water and ice cubes were heroes. I got ice 4 or 5 times from people in the last 10 miles. I ran the ice cubes over my neck, arms and shoulders. It cooled me down for a few moments at least.

With 10 miles to go, I started to see many more people in distress. It is disheartening to see fellow runners like that. My walk breaks became more frequent, but I did not really care. I was still moving forward. I was still feeling okay.

I was fortunate that the crowd support was really good throughout the race for me. I started so close to the front that there were still spectators. It was a different experience for runners farther back when many spectators left early or as soon as their runner went by. I had my name on my shirt (alphabet stickers purchased from Michaels craft store for $4). It was worth every penny. I loved hearing my name and hearing encouragement. I was all smiles and giggles during my first marathon. I did not acknowledge everyone on Sunday, but I waved a lot, made eye contact or smiled when I could. If I was walking when they yelled to me, I told them thank you. I was happy to hear that my wife called out runner’s names before and long after I went by.

The crowds were screaming during the last couple of miles. The race was canceled around the time that I got to mile 25. The clock on the right was still going, but the one on the left said cxl or something. I did not get the hint. As I poured water on my head at the final aid station, a volunteer came up to me and asked me a couple of questions to make sure that I was alright. I thanked him and said that I was okay and that I was taking it easy. He did not mention anything about the closure. At the turn going up the hill on Roosevelt, with a quarter mile to go, a cop yelled that the race was canceled that we should walk because it did not matter. I still did not get it. I thought that he was trying to be funny–as in, you made it all this way, but it does not matter, Ha Ha. Wink, wink. The clocks were the same at the finish. The one on the right was working, but the one on the left said cxl again. Gee, I should have taken the hint. I had some gas left in the tank, I was actually running like I had planned for the final 400 meters. I crossed the line in 4:13 something and I was done.

The marathon was not what I expected. There were some bright spots and I will try to remember those rather than all the negatives. It angers me to hear race officials blaming the runners. It angers me to hear some runners use the marathon fiasco as another opportunity to slam runners who are slower. The great thing about running is that it is inclusive–to say that a certain pace runner should be out there or that they did not get water because they were too slow is just plain mean. People are welcome to their own opinions, yes, but I’m just going to ignore that nonsense.

Sunday night, my wife and I went to Garrett Ripley’s for the blogger meet up. It was fun. Some of the bloggers that I met were: Running Jayhawk, The Out of Shape Guy, Me and My Running Shoes, Run Dawnie Run, Jason Leah Run, 21 Days

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