My
First Ever Marathon
This year, 2018, I
decided to check an item off of my bucket list—I would run my first ever
marathon. I was both nervous and
excited. I had trained specifically for
this moment since Thanksgiving; however, I had never run 26.2 miles
before. On the morning of March 3, 2018,
I knew that I was about to embark on an adventure that was new, exciting, and terrifying
all at the same time.
The good news was that I
wouldn’t be running alone. My friend Christina
promised to run with me, and she invited another friend of hers, Wimberly, to
run with us. The best part of that
arrangement is that this year’s race was Christina’s first ever full marathon
also. We would both be trying something
new, and I felt a whole lot better knowing that I wasn’t going to be going on
this journey alone.
I had a goal of running
the marathon in 4:30 or better. I felt
that this was a realistic goal; after all, I had run a half marathon in
Columbus in January with a time of 2:06.
I had also worked so hard at maintaining a steady pace during my long
runs that I must say that I had gotten really good at it. To make the task a little easier, I had
decided to run along with the 4:20 pacer’s group. The man pacing the 4:20 group was an old
friend and former Darton State College colleague of mine—Patrick. My thinking was that I’d run with Patrick at
his pace for as far as I could, and then when I got too tired to keep up with
him any longer, I would already have some cushion to allow me to reach
4:30. It was a good theory—at least in
my mind.
The apprehension that I
felt as I stood with Patrick, Christina, and Wimberly at the starting line
didn’t last long. Race officials fired a
cannon that was so loud that I was sure that the people living in Leesburg
could hear it, and the race was on.
The first two miles took
the full marathon runners over the bridge that crosses the Flint River, and
then onto the Albany State University East campus. It’s a campus that I visited frequently
during my last eight months or so as a full-time assistant professor at
ASU—both for meetings and to teach in Peace Hall. We, the runners, reached our first water
station at mile two, and it was staffed by the ASU softball team. It was wonderful seeing Coach Amber Miles-Barker
and a couple of my former students handing out water and Gatorade there. Coach Amber has a great group of girls
playing softball for her, and it did my heart some good to see them working the
water station on campus during the city’s biggest running event of the year.
As the race progressed,
I was able to determine that Patrick knew exactly what he was doing as a
pacer. His split times at every mile
were dead on for 4:20. The problem was that I was falling further behind at
every split. I wasn’t worried, though, as long as I could see him up in the
distance. I still also had Christina and
Wimberly to keep me company, so I was doing just fine.
Between miles 7 and 8,
we ran through the ASU West campus.
Emotions welled up inside of me as I remembered all of the memories that
I had made there during the four years that I had taught at the campus when it
was Darton State College, and then ASU West.
However, the thing that I’ll most remember about the ASU West portion of
the run is that Wimberly’s husband was there to cheer us on—and boy did he ever
cheer us on with an abundance of enthusiasm!!!
I should probably mention that Wimberly’s husband is Gabe Giardina. If people in Albany think that his name
sounds familiar, then they are correct.
He’s the head football coach at Albany State. I definitely need to get
to some ASU football games this fall and cheer on the Golden Rams with the same
kind of enthusiasm that he cheered for me, Christina, and Wimberly with on that
chilly marathon morning.
By the time we left the
ASU West campus, I had lost sight of Patrick.
That’s okay, I thought. I’m still
way ahead of the 4:30 pace. However, not
long after we departed the campus, the 4:25 pacer passed us. Uh oh, I thought. Time to pick up the
pace. We didn’t though. Our little trio continued to run at a pace
that was comfortable for us, and, over time, the 4:25 pacer put some distance
between herself and us also.
The midway point at mile
13.1 is located directly in front of the Doublegate Country Club. When we crossed the timing mat at the midway
point, I saw that we had run the first half of the marathon in 2:15—which put
us right on track for my goal of 4:30. That’s
okay, I thought. All we need to do
repeat what we just did during the first 13.1 miles, and I’ll nail my 4:30 goal
with no problem. Very easy, right?
There is an aid station
at that midway point that happens to be staffed by some good friends of mine—The
Albany Kiwanis Club. I am a member of
the Albany Kiwanis Club myself, and for four straight years, I worked that aid
station with my fellow club members.
During those four years, I stood there handing out water and imagining
that I was one of the runners that would actually receive the water or Gatorade
or fruit as I ran by. I never thought
that it would actually happen, but—SURPRISE! —it did happen this year. The Albany Kiwanis Club members were very
supportive of me and my friends as we ran through and got some Gu gels and
water. It did my heart good to see my
fellow Kiwanians cheering me on and encouraging me to keep going when I had
reached the halfway point of the race.
One other amenity that
the midway point has is port-a-potties.
Both Christina and Wimberly decided that they needed to use them. I did not.
We had reached the midway point of the marathon at exactly 2:15, and if
I stopped and used a port-a-john, then I’d never make my 4:30 goal. Although I
enjoyed running the first half of the marathon with those two ladies, I decided
that I wanted to see if I could complete the marathon in my goal time. I mentally bid the ladies adieu (they were a
little too busy in the portable johns for me to say anything to them verbally),
and I went on to run the second half of the marathon alone.
Running without
Christina and Wimberly was a very lonely run.
There were long stretches during those miles where I didn’t see any
other runners at all. I almost felt like I was doing my long run training alone
instead actually running in a race with close to 500 other runners. However, I kept running. As I kept running, I checked my stopwatch at
every mile split. At every mile split, I
deduced that I was still on pace for making my 4:30 goal.
The 20-mile marker is
located in front of the WALB News studios.
While that information by itself doesn’t really interest many people, I
had my sprits lifted there by a bunch of friends that were working that aid
station—members of the Albany Exchange Club. I was a member of the Exchange Club for about
two years. While I ended up resigning
from the club because I took a new job that wouldn’t allow me to attend club
meetings or serve the community properly as a club member, the Exchange Club and
its members still hold a very special place in my heart. Furthermore, I really needed some
encouragement at the 20-mile mark. The
Exchange Club members gave me that encouragement right when I needed it, and I
thank them for it from the bottom of my heart.
I still kept checking my
watch at every mile marker. At mile 20,
21, 22, and 23, I was still on pace to reach my goal of 4:30. When I passed the 23 mile split, I felt
encouraged. All I had left to run was
just 0.1 miles farther than 5 kilometers.
I’ve run many 5K races before, so reaching my goal would be a breeze. Right?
Not so fast!
Once I passed the
23-mile marker, I hit the proverbial brick wall. I slowed down significantly. My mind kept telling me to go faster, but my
body couldn’t do it. Mile 24 might be
the most beautiful mile of the entire race because it runs through the tree
canopy that hovers above 3rd Avenue.
The picture on this year’s finisher’s medals look an awful lot like 3rd
Avenue. However, even that breath-taking
sight couldn’t motivate me to run any faster than my body would allow.
During the stretch
between miles 23 and 24, I passed John, a friend of mine from GLCR. John was actually running with a friend of
his, encouraging her to finish the marathon.
John also encouraged me as I passed him and his friend. I’m glad that I saw John, his wife Kelli (who
was spectating this year), and the other runner at that point because they were
really big cheerleaders for me at a point when I really needed them to
encourage me.
Unfortunately, when I
finally reached mile 24, I knew that I would never finish the marathon in under
4:30. I looked at my watch, and the drop
in my pace was too much to make up in the last 2.2 miles. I became
disheartened, and I started to walk instead of run. John and his friend passed
me, and John reminded me that I was almost finished. I watched helplessly as he and his friend ran
by me while all I could do was walk. I
knew that I would run to the finish line in the end, but I wasn’t running when
they passed me. I waved at John and his
friend mentally as they ran by me. It was all I could do.
At around the 25-mile
mark, I received even more confirmation that 4:30 was out of reach—the 4:45 pacer
passed me. Somehow, when she jogged past
me, I found the motivation that I needed to run again. If I wasn’t going to beat 4:30, then the
least that I could do was run a better time than 4:45. I ran behind the 4:45 pacer at about her pace
as I closed out the final mile or so.
When John and his friend
passed me while I was walking, he told me that when I reached the Thronateeska
Heritage Center that I’d be very close to finishing the race. I remember the feeling of reaching
Thronateeska very well. Part of the
center itself is located in an old railroad depot building. It is also located on Albany’s only remaining
brick road. As a history buff, I’ve
always liked Thronateeska. However, as a
marathon runner that morning, I fell in love with Thronateeska because as I
followed the pacer through the gate of the old train depot, I passed the
26-mile mark. I knew then that I was
only about 0.2 miles from the finish of my journey. I was so excited that I went ahead and picked
up the pace. I passed the 4:45 pacer
shortly after leaving the train depot.
I remember turning the
corner that enters Riverfront Park and seeing the finish chute and finish line
just ahead of me. I am not ashamed to
admit that I almost cried with joy when I saw the Snickers finish line arch
ahead of me. I was so happy at that
moment that I found the energy to sprint to the finish line. I crossed the finish line with a clock time
of about 4:44. I found out later that my chip time, the one that counts, was
4:43:56.
You may ask if I was
disappointed that I finished the race nearly 14 minutes slower than my goal
was. The answer to that question is that
I was not. When I passed under the
finish arch, I felt an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. For the first time in my life, I had finished
a complete marathon. At the moment that
I crossed the finish line, I had joined an elite group of runners. While the number of people who have ever run
a complete marathon may number in the millions, the percentage of people in the
world who have ever run a complete marathon in their lifetimes is less than
1%. I can’t think of anything else in my
life that I’ve ever done that has put me in such elite company. Even if I never run another marathon in my
lifetime, I can now say that I’ve completed one. That’s an accomplishment that no one can ever
take away from me.
When I crossed the
finish line, I was greeted by a much larger welcoming committee than I had
expected. It seemed like every member of
the Good Life City Runners Club was there to greet and congratulate me. Some of the members were people who had not
run in this year’s race but had come to cheer on the club members who were
running. Many of them stayed nearly five
hours after the race had started to congratulate me as I crossed the finish
line. Other members were runners who had
run the half marathon and had waited, in some cases close to three hours, for
me to finish. And, of course, there were
the club members who had run the full marathon and waited one-to-two hours for me
to finish. At that moment, I appreciated
every single one of them for giving me what felt like a hero’s welcome when I crossed
the finish line. I appreciate that
reception very much, and it’s an experience that I’ll never forget as long as I
live.
I did stay at the finish
line when I was done so that I could wait for Christina and Wimberly to cross
it. They did finish, and Christina was
given a hero’s welcome by her friends and our fellow runners also. I had to wait in line to give her my congratulations
for joining the marathon finisher’s club!
Later, she and I joined several of our running friends for lunch at
Rocket’s to celebrate our inauguration into the exclusive marathon finishers
running club. I need to take a moment to
thank one of those running friends, Oscar, for buying that lunch for us. Thank you, my friend.
I received a finisher’s
medal at the end of the run. I have a
shelf in my home where I hang my running medals. Most of them are for finishing first in my age
group in local 5K races. Once the
results of the marathon were posted, I looked at them. I have learned that I finished in 38th
place out of the 45 males in my age group, and I finished 376th
overall out of 490 runners. Nevertheless, despite those numbers, I am more proud
of receiving the finisher’s medal at the Snicker’s marathon than I am of
receiving all of the first place age division 5K medals combined. I hope (and truthfully expect) to win more
age division medals and trophies in 5K and 10K races, but none of those awards
will be more difficult to receive or come at a higher cost than what I paid to
simply receive a finisher’s medal at the 2018 Snicker’s Marathon.
Great write up Shane. Congratulations
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