Results
Finish time: 4:07, 9:26 min mile
20 mile: 2:55, 8:46 min mile
Half: 1:51, 8:33 min mile
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2 pm: Lying on a park bench near what was the start line of the 2013 Eugene Marathon. This inviting bench, the third time we passed it in our circling efforts to locate our Subaru, was too much to resist. My wife Rosanna is thoughtfully searching for our car, which has disappeared in the warren of dead-end paths that fill the campus of the University of Oregon. I lost my sweatshirt thus I am wearing a bright cardinal red sweatshirt I found lying on the ground. The writing on the shirt is cryptic and impenetrable to my untrained eye; I hope I'm not advertising some politically incorrect fraternity. Hard to imagine that a few hours ago this area was packed with nervous, jittery runners. Now it is a sad after-party as a breeze blows empty plastic bags about. I am speaking on the phone with Otis, and a decision has been made that Ninkasi Brewery is deserving of our patronage. A street cleaning crew sweeps nearby and finds my I- Pad. They paw it over for a bit, disbelief at their good fortune. Hastily I claim ownership and with resignation they hand it over.
1 pm: Dejected Rick sits in Mcmenamins, spouse trying to console. He is hangdog at his 4:30 time. A few pints of bitter offer the better consolation. We trained hard in the winter, a particularly frigid zero degree January day vivid in memory. Gloves, hat, multiple layers, frost and snow crunching underfoot. Originally a group of six, four eventually made it to Eugene, and two to this tavern to commiserate over the hummus plate.
High Noon: Beer garden with Rosanna, savoring the atmosphere - band churning out 80s hits, families gathering. Talking with two Texas visitors who trained in the pleasant Dallas winter. No
hills to speak of in the flat North Texas landscape. My legs are recovering and the alcohol is taking away the pain.
11 am: This absolutely sucks - burning feet, leg cramps, bile-filled mouth. I have one eternal infinite mile to go. The 4 hour pace group passed me a few minutes ago, the little red lizard flag they fly piercing like a knife in my heart. All pretense of a 4 hour finish shattered like crystal hurled to the pavement. Wife exhorting me to not walk, not walk, just keep running - but I just can't do it. Hope snatched away, exposed as a charlatan, a pretender to the throne. Absolute hell.
10 am: Just passed mile marker 20, my time is 2 hrs 55 minutes. 'Clampdown' by the Clash - one of their best. I have 1 hour and 5 minutes to finish, that's 11 minutes per mile. That should not be a problem. Although I am slowing down and the urge to walk is close to overwhelming. I am starting to develop runners brain - forgetting things like what mile I just passed, how far I have to go. Hard to string logical thoughts together. Just a blur of memory, aspiration, sounds and greenery
9:00 am: At the half-marathon mark and my time is 1 hr and 51 minutes. Wow, that is a PR for me! The course has changed, I remember running on a freeway at this point in the 2010 marathon. This year is over a bridge and through a field, passing Pre's Trail on the left. I have caught up with the 3:45 pace group and I'm running with the big boys now. What a sublime day. 'Aquas de Marzo' by Elis Regina is playing. The song is written in a stream of consciousness manner and the words are bit nonsensical, but it coheres into something profoundly moving. Water flowing, springtime, greenery, the cycle of life and eternal recurrence - I wish I could stretch this moment out into an eternity.
8:00 am: Passed mile 6 a few minutes ago, pace 8:39 minutes per mile. This is extraordinarily fast for me, not the 9 minute pace I planned. I ran out in front of the 4 hour group, searching for me Bend mates, thinking they might be banking some time. If fast is good, then even faster is better, right?
And if less is more, then imagine how much better even more would be! Joe Strummer and the Mescaleros 'Johnny Appleseed' sets my teeth to a grit. 'Think there is a soul....that soul is hard to find!' Angry political rock...not enough of that nowadays. Joe Strummer died a few years ago, a bit over 50 years old. I'm chastened to realize that I'm pushing 50. I don't wanna die Momma! Still so much to do in life and I'm far from mature. My idea of maturity is no longer a serious gray man, rather now it is a man freed from the bonds of pride, greed, resentment, jealousy. Someone though is now passing me on the right. Hey I don't like that, they are showing me up and my pride is wounded....yes I have a ways to go.
7:00 am: The Star Spangled Banner has just been sung, an especially moving rendition after the Boston Marathon bombing. A gun shot rings out and the elite runners in corral 1 take off. I am in corral 4 and we can feel their departure ripple through the crowd. I am standing next to the 4 hour pace leader, looking for my Bend training partners, Rick S., Rick M. and Kelly B, however all I can find are the runners dressed like Waldo. The Waldo fan club has evidently emerged from their winter hibernation. I press play on the iphone strapped to my arm and Oasis' 'Roll With It', from what one of the best albums from the nineties starts to play. My Eugene Playlist is intentionally upbeat - no slow Radiohead or Pahinui this time.
6:00 am: I exit the hotel van near the new basketball arena. Two blocks from the start line. Warming up now, I drop off my gear bag with lucky sweatshirt. I feel confident and well rested - this is going to be it, lucky number 9!
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