ANCHORAGE – It is a dreary Saturday morning in Anchorage,
Alaska and it is race day.
The Mayor’s
Midnight Sun Marathon and Half Marathon are scheduled to start in about 30
minutes and I do not want to get out of my car. I haven’t trained properly and
the memories of my last Marathon are flashing in my head. The aches, pains, and
struggles of running in 85° temps with humidity were almost more than I could
handle. Today is just the opposite. It is cold, wet, and the wind is gusting.
As I muster up the courage to pull a disposable rain poncho
over my head and get out of the car. I reassure myself I can do this.
Every major race has a few things in common and one of them
happens to be the almost endless row of porta-potties/outhouses at the starting
line. One of the rules I have developed to ensure a good and successful run is
to “go” before you go. I head over to the bathroom line and which is moving
very quickly to my amazement and get the relief I was looking for.
As I continue my journey to the starting line I decide to
take a few pictures of the crowd and hear my name being called. It is my friend
and occasional running buddy Bob. He tells me about his ambitions for the race
and informs me of the new guy to keep my eye on. Bob is confident his friend is
going to place (he did).
The rain is not letting up and the crowd of anxious runners
is getting bigger by the minute. I bump into another friend and former coworker
Tracy. We chat each other up and reassure one another we can do this and how
much fun the race is going to be. Everyone is smiling in spite of the weather
and a surge of energy moves across the more than 1,700 eager runners as we inch
toward the starting line to begin our race to the finish.
This year I had plans to complete the full marathon but time
got away from me and I did not plan or train properly for a 26.2 mile run. I decided
to downgrade to the half marathon the day before the race to prevent injury and
misery. I had learned my lesson after Hawaii.
I am feeling strong and confident – I give some yells of
encouragement to the mob and get several excited whoops back. Shoulder to
shoulder we are ushered forward along the first stages of the course in a
traffic jam of people. As we make our way along the crowd starts to thin out. The
more hurried and excited racers zigzag their way through the clusters of slower
or perhaps more seasoned runners. I can’t help but think to myself, “I will see
you again soon” as they zoom by.
The race is going very smoothly and I am impressed with my ability
to keep a steady pace. I look at each mile as an achievement, and victory, and
yell out more words of encouragement to the runners around me. Mile six –
“Every mile deserves a smile,” I yell! The runners around me must be annoyed
with my level of enthusiasm.
At this point I am running along the back side of the Ted
Stevens Anchorage International Airport and it is all up hill. The wind is
blowing right in my face causing the rain to sting my skin with every drop. My
poncho is flapping and making a sound so loud I could barely hear the engines
of the idling jets sitting on the tarmac. You could taste the fumes of the jet
fuel that power the plans carrying packages and letters to destinations I could
only imagine. As I watch the plans takeoff from the runway I can’t help but be
amazed by the clouds of water they kick up as they propel forward into the air.
There is so much rainwater everywhere. The water quickly turns to mud as the
course changes direction and leads us into a wide greenbelt before connecting
back to the Tony Knowles Coastal Trail.
A bottle necking effect starts to take place as people try
to maneuver around huge puddles of mud and water – everyone is slowing down so
they don’t slip and fall. This is a very hilly part of the course – up and down
– up and down we go until we come to a very sudden stop. I can hear a grumbling
from the multitude and calls of warning to watch your step. We are on a huge
and very muddy incline. One wrong move and you are going to fall without
question.
I notice a guy at the bottom of the hill as he slips and
falls and slides two the end with little effort. At that moment without hardly
any thought I jump to the middle of the trail and begin my decent on my
backside. People are cheering and pushing me along helping me gain speed as I
slide past them. At the bottom a stranger grabs my hand lifts me up and tells
me to go. I am off – avoiding injury and having a blast.
Now I am back on the coastal trail and on pavement again. I
pull off my poncho and am looking forward to a tail wind that never comes. As
the downtown city scape comes into view so does a young bull moose who almost
leaps over the trail and back into the woods. This has my heart racing even
more as I pull out my smartphone to try and snap a few shots without slowing
down.
Miles 10, 11 and 12 come and go and I am still feeling
great. I am at the last hill and not worried about a thing. I walk and jog up
the obstacle and can hear the onlookers at the finish cheering for the runners
as they make a mad dash across the last stretch to the finish line. I am
getting more and more excited as I reach the top of the hill and everyone is
yelling you did it… keep going… you’re almost there… Go! GO! GO! I dig deep and
push forward with the last of my energy and sprint to the finish. I did it! I
completed another endurance run, 13.1 challenging miles.
A young man at the finish line places my finishers metal
over my head and around my neck and tells me good job. I make my way over to
the t-shirt both, grab a dull orange shirt that reaffirms I did it. The
volunteers all tell me great job and congratulate me for finishing the race. A
text message from my wife say good job babe, we are proud of you. Notifications
from my Facebook page are blowing up my phone and I am all smiles.
It is a great day and was an awesome race. As I make my way
to my car I notice just how happy everyone is and what a great accomplishment
we all just achieved. I love being a runner and I am proud of the race
organizers for putting on such an amazing event year after year.
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