A chill wind blows in off the Pacific Ocean as we pull into the Hotel parking lot. A quick shiver runs over me and I fear inadequate preparation for the Newport Marathon. Both in terms of training and clothing. Leaving family and gear at the hotel, I drive through quaint seaside streets to the marathon registration site. Not many people are there when I arrive; most of the volunteers look tired and anxious to close, and to squirrel away into silent green houses overlooking the wine dark sea. A good town to sleep away the stress of the world, a good town to suck at your aspirations of glory days and dream of what might have been. A town epitomizing cold beach culture of the 1970s, a town time forgot.
Not sure where these somber thoughts spring from; I gather my bib and drive back to the hotel, searching for an open thrift store, for a used sweatshirt I could discard around mile 3. All the shops though are shut for the evening.
We nibble at tid-bits and snacks in the hotel room, then lights off 10 pm.
The alarm beeps and buzzes at 4 am. I get up early and wander the lobby in my pajamas, drink a few cups of coffee, have a bite at a bagel. I dress for success, and walk out to the parking lot. A multi-hued stream of people coursing downhill to the park where the marathon begins. I see Rick Moon, my running partner. The day is warming up as sunshine filters through the thick coastal pine trees.
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| Start Line |
A shot and we are off. I run with Rick through 3 miles of coastal development, a tour of the hotels clustered by the sea. Then we are back to the park, and wind our way downhill to the harbor section of town. From here on out, it is an out and back along the Yaquina Bay. Relatively flat, gotta like that!
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| Newport Harbor and iconic bridge |
Rick and I are both shooting for a 4 hour marathon and we run slightly ahead of the 4 hour pace group. The miles pass easily, as do my concerns over a sore throat. Mile 15 is the turn around, and we're well on track for the 4 hours.
The hitch though is mile 17; I feel nauseous, likely from all the caffeinated gels I've been chewing. I pull over to the side of the road and spit out the last remnants of the mile 16 gel. I try to catch up to Rick, but the body is not willing. I settle in for a slower pace; at mile 20 I just need to average 11 minute miles for the rest. But at mile 23 the 4 hour pace group passes me. They are moving too fast! I slow for a bit and have a blessed little walk - the abatement of pain is sweet relief. The next two miles I alternate walking and running. At mile 25 I see my sweet family and have a momentary rush of will. Summer the dog is yelping her head off as she wants to run with me the rest of the way. No dogs allowed! I crest the hill at mile 26 and see 200 yards of downhill to the finish line.
| Comforting Summer as she looks for Master |
Hallelujah!
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My time is 4:10. When will that 4 hour marathon ever come? Maybe never?
The medal is heavy and substantial; it is fun to click about. The shirt seems slightly effeminate with too many sponsors listed on the back. Post race meal is at the Rogue Brewery, and it is a blast.
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| With the family before heading in for a well deserved beer |
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| Like a kid in a candy store. |
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