The Marathon.

'Hey barefoot guy, need some shoes?'

If you ever want a pick me up, some motivation...or to just completely restore your faith in humanity, go to a marathon, a triathlon, an ultra. You meet the most incredible people.

Sunday, May 5th meant it was time for the Pittsburgh marathon. This meant getting up at 4am so we could get downtown before the sun made an appearance, and me taking a nap in a parking garage for two hours because Ashley doesn't particularly care to be awake at that time of day.

Last year my Darling ran the race in about three and a half hours. That was when he was hoping to run it in four hours and he took a break half way through to drink a beer. This year he decided he'd run it hard and PR (personal record). He hoped for 3:20, maybe even 3:18 if he got lucky. Now as incredible and impressive as all of that is, it's not the point I'm trying to make with this post. When I was still waiting at the finish line and 3:30 went by, then 4:00 and he still wasn't there, I was wondering what the heck happened.

His friends and I tried tracking him, but all we found was that his timing dropped off halfway through the race. Then my phone rang from a number I didn't recognize. I answered to find my Darling on the other end, saying he had some problems but only had five miles left. About thirty minutes later (and five hours into the race), we see him practically sprint across the finish line, looking completely unscathed, in a brand new pair of running shoes.

For some reason, that neither myself or his cross country friends can comprehend, my Darling decided running the marathon in his cross country shoes would be a good idea, and maybe it was...until mile thirteen. By then his feet were so messed up he had blisters on his toes. He realized he couldn't finish in those shoes, took them off and trekked on for another two miles. That's when another guy running the marathon said, 'Hey barefoot guy, need some shoes?' The kid lived close by, pulled out his cell phone and made a call. Moments later his mom met my Darling on the street with three brand new pairs of running shoes, asked "What's your size?" and handed him a pair so my Darling could finish the marathon.

These days all you have to do is turn on the news and it's pretty easy to become bitter or always expect the worst. My grandmother doesn't turn it on anymore except to watch the weather, and I don't blame her. Don't get me wrong it's good to know what's going on in the world. We shouldn't bury our heads in the sand, but it sure would be nice if there was more promotion of positivity.

What happened with the kid, the mom and the shoes? We have no idea of their phone number or where they actually live. We have no clue how to give them their shoes back. So if you know a kid named Sam who lives around mile 15 of the Pittsburgh marathon route, we owe him a pair of running shoes...

One Training Day at a Time

I walked 5.25 miles today. I'm not mad, I don't want to scream, I'm not going to cry, but I'm pretty disappointed.

I've always wanted to be a runner. There's no real rhyme or reason. I just thought it would help clear my head, keep me in shape since I've always considered myself athletically challenged, bring more peace into my life. Maybe that's my rhyme and my reason.

Not only did I want to run I wanted to do a marathon. Not a 5K, not a half marathon, a full one. So at 3am one day last September I started running. I really wanted to do the OKC Memorial marathon. I've always wanted to do that run. Then I moved to Pittsburgh, so I decided their marathon would be ok. It'd give me more time to train anyway.

I rejoined a gym at the beginning of the new year and for someone who's entire athletic training could previously be summed up in one semester of Pilates during college, I think I've done a pretty good job so far. I even got up to 12 miles in less than 2.5 hours. That was the middle of February and the height of my training. It was hard, but going great. I had previously set a very achievable goal of doing the marathon in five hours. After that 12 miler I knew I could do it in 4.5 if I really wanted. Except when I tried to run 13.1 miles two weeks later my ankle was really bothering me. Not normal training aches and pains, but an actual 'I've got to take a break from running for a while this hurts so bad' sort of pain.

At first I was really upset, but then realized I could do the eliptical and bike in the meantime; work on muscles that would benefit my running. But when I was still in pain two weeks later while doing short runs I really hit a wall and I've had a terrible time trying to climb over it since.

The last two weeks have been a little bit better. It was too late to continue with the Hal Higdon's plan I was previously using because it would put too much strain on things that are still trying to heal. So instead of 3 medium runs during the week and a long run on the weekend per the previous plan, I decided to do the 1.75 mile loop around the neighborhood once a day six days a week to keep things loose and really focus on just getting through the long run on the weekend. Supposedly you can do a marathon even if you only do one long run a week. Your time won't be stellar, but you can get through it.

I'm not giving up. I don't want to throw in the towel. I'm still going to show up at the race. I'm still going to run or jog or walk when that gun fires off to signal the start. I don't know if I'll be able to finish, but what I do know is that I can't go any farther than my legs, or knees, of ankles will let me. I know that it'll still be an attempt at something most of my friends haven't even tried.

So I'm not mad, and I won't be mad if I don't finish. I will be disappointed, but disappointment after a valiant effort is a lot better than the anger I'd feel from not trying.