In November of 1983, I injured my hamstring while out jogging. It was a minor injury.  I was able to run a 10k a few weeks later.  However, running might be considered a stretch. I went so slow, that an old blind guy passed me (he was being led by a young guy).

Needless to say, I was discouraged.  I went home that Sunday and, as I was looking through the newspaper, I saw an ad for the Fiesta Bowl Marathon for the following week. And something shifted in me.  I new that a year from then, I was going to run that race. It was a kind of knowing where other options were not possible.

I wasn’t a fast runner.   I had gotten my time on the 10k down to 9 minute miles, but that was as fast as it got.  On top of that, my training regime was intermittent.  So, here I was, going to run a marathon. I didn’t know how I was supposed to do it.  Be I knew I was going to have to figure it out.

For the first nine months, I just tried to get stronger and faster. I had setbacks. For example, when it got warm (in Phoenix, warm is over 100º), I went inside and did aerobics.  However, the shoes I had gave me shin splints, so my training was delayed.

For running a marathon, once they are in shape, people typically train for 90 days. I read about a training program for those who’ve run a few 10k’s. And I did it.  I ran so much, I ended up learning where every water-stop (gas station) was within a 5-mile radius.

Next was my support team.  They were my roommate and my girlfriend. My roommate was going to drive me to the race and hang out at other areas of the race to cheer me on. My girlfriend was going to be at the 20 mile point to give me an emotional boost at the point where people start fading.

So, let’s start with a roommate.  I guess I wasn’t a good judge of character. He was all about having fun and others be damned. The night before the race, he was up all night partying and didn’t come home. Needless to say, I was scared that I wasn’t going to have a way to get to the race.  He showed up at around 6 am and drove me to the race, went home and went to bed.

The race was in December. Phoenix is still somewhat warm in December, however, the mornings are cold.  Additionally, it was at a time, where race preparation wasn’t at its best. So, at 7 am, it was 30º and I’m there with a throwaway bag keeping me warm. And there was no water to pre-race hydrate.  I was cold, anxious, tired and thirsty. All they had was coffee. How’s that for fitness?  Well, I never drink coffee. And there I was having two cups. Yeechh!

The race starts.  There are enough people there, that I didn’t even get to the starting line till two minutes into the race.  I start running and I start to warm up.  In fact I’m feeling pretty good.  After a couple miles, I notice that I’m going faster than I planned, and it seemed as though the training was paying off and I would have a good time.  In fact, at one point I felt so good, that as I passed a photo crew, they missed taking a photo of me; so I went back so they could get a good shot. It was my first marathon and likely my last and I was going to make sure they had a picture of me.

Since I never drank coffee, I didn’t know that in addition to being a stimulant, it also boosts the metabolism.   I had freed up a lot of energy that I was using at the beginning of the race. And that was the reason for going so fast.

As the race went on I started to get tired.  I stopped for liquids every 2.5 miles. But that only goes so far. When doing continuous exercise, no matter how much a person drinks, the body will use up more than it takes in. So reserves are essential. At 17.5 miles, my muscles ached and I doubted I could make it.  At the water stop, I took some ibuprofen and by the next stop I felt better.

As the 20 mile marker approached, I started to look for my girlfriend. As time passed, I grew more and more discouraged.   She wasn’t going to show up. Neither of my support people who said they would be there weren’t.

Then, I get to the last water stop, 25 miles.  I drank my water and when I started to run, my whole chest felt like somebody put it in a vice. I stopped and the vice went away.  So I walked the next mile. With a quarter mile left, I decided I had to run no matter what.  So I started to jog and there wasn’t any pain!

So I jogged across the finish line and there was my girlfriend who thought I would like it better if she was at the finish (mini lesson, make sure they understand why as well as what).

The next challenge, sitting down. My quads were shot and I knew that if I bent them, they wouldn’t be able to hold me up.  So I walked over to a parking sign, and while holding on, I shimmied down the 3 feet necessary to get my butt on the ground.

After 4 hours, 42 minutes and 44 seconds,
I finally got to rest!