Part 1: Tedium and Routine (Miles 1-13)
The first few miles of the New Jersey Marathon were non-eventful. With typical early race routine, I ran mechanically and at times, awkwardly. Finding my comfort zone took longer than I expected. And I was desperate to pee in the second mile. I saw some men relieving themselves in the woods off the side of the road, so I did the same.
Somewhere in the fifth mile I ate my first Gu Gel. Down it went with ease. Around mile six I felt annoyed because I still had not found my rhythm, but I was hitting my target pace of a ten minute mile, so things were fine overall.
During mile seven I had to pee again! Too much water? Nerves? I don't know. But I didn't mind because I welcomed the short break and I had no specific time goal for my first marathon.
During mile eight I reached into my pocket for another Gu Gel when I felt the plastic bag containing my SALT. I HAD FORGOTTEN TO TAKE SALT IN THE CORRALS! How could I do that!? I had repeated it over and over to myself: "Salt in the corrals… salt in the corrals." Coach Amy and I had discussed it numerous times. Nonetheless, I forgot. So at the next water station, I took down some salt.
My clan of lovely friends were cheering me on during mile ten. I waved and smiled back. This would be the last time I smiled during the New Jersey Marathon.
Part 2: A Turn For the Worse (Miles 14-15)
I was cruising steadily along in mile fifteen, running south on Ocean Avenue, when I looked at my watch and realized that thirty minutes had passed since my last food intake. It was time to eat again. I couldn't bear the thought of it because I was not hungry. Not at all. I delayed it by five minutes.
I only had one Gel remaining, so, wanting to save it for later in the race, I went for the Cliff Bar. I was not carrying a water bottle, so I had to eat it dry. I chewed little bits and struggled to swallow. I chewed some more. And on I ran. I had ZERO appetite. I chewed some more, tried to swallow… then: intense nausea and retching. Dry heaves. Panic. I came to a sudden stop and bent over slightly with my hand on my stomach, breathing heavily. Two girls who were running side-by-side just ahead of me whirled around and yelled "are you okay?" I held up one hand. "Yes" I lied.
An ominous silence surrounded me as I stood on the pavement, contemplating what I should do. I felt alone, in a danger zone. After about a minute passed, with great reluctance I began to walk. Slowly at first, then a bit faster. The nausea slowly subsided… but VERY slowly. I was feeling physically ill, and mentally and emotionally devastated.
At this point, continuing to run, let alone *finishing* the marathon, had been lost. I slowly walked on, becoming unhinged as visions of failure became more and more real. I saw myself in a medical van riding to the bag check area so I could reclaim my belongings and return to the hotel without a medal, profoundly disappointed. I imagined telling everyone about my marathon disaster. "I got sick at mile fifteen and had to drop out" I would say. My failure would be on public display. I'd return to the office and explain to my co-workers that I had been defeated. Anger and despondence overwhelmed me.
Part 3: Rescue and Recovery With Amy (Miles 16-18)
Slowly and with caution I marched forward. I built a tiny bit of momentum as my walk slowly accelerated into a run. Everything was different now. This is a new race. Reset, restart. Gradually I became more focused. But I was fragile. Breathe, run, breathe, run. That's it, nothing more.
Somewhere in the next couples of miles, the subtle outline of a familiar figure appeared. Amy was waiting on the side of the road. She ran with me, and as we ran together, I recounted for her my near disaster back at mile fifteen. Her response was extraordinarily calm and measured. She spoke to me in her soft and encouraging voice. Anyone who knows Amy knows her gentle nurturing quality. I felt a swelling in my chest as I nearly lost my composure and burst into tears. I held it together. And on we ran.
I rarely spoke. When I did speak, I spoke softly with the minimum effort possible. At one point Amy handed me some salt, but I didn't understand that she wanted me to eat the salt until she specifically instructed me to do so.
Amy and I continued to run side by side, her presence soothing my delicate state. "I need a toilet" I said. She replied (half joking, I think) that since I'm a guy, I don't really need a toilet because I can just go off to the side of the road. "No, I need to take a shit" I explained.
When we arrived at the next set of toilets, I asked her "What if there's no toilet paper? Do you have any?" She told me that she didn't, as she removed the sweat band from her arm and handed it to me. Now that's devotion is it not? She removed her sweat band so that I could wipe my ass with it. I love you Amy.
Thankfully, the port-o-john was not bad. Toilet paper was there waiting for me and I relieved myself with relative ease. That was a first for me.
Part 4: Running With Jim and U2 (Miles 19-26.2)
So on Amy and I ran until we encountered Jim who remained by my side from that point forward. For the remainder of the marathon I continued to fight waves of nausea, but they were manageable. I could hear Jim's voice but I could see him only in my peripheral vision. I rarely spoke. I did not wish to speak. Speaking made it harder. I didn't want this to be harder. I spoke only if I had something vital to say.
I was locked in. I thought of NOTHING except for running to the next water station. That is it. I didn't take in the sights. I didn't dream about achievements or personal accolades. I didn't think about the finish line. I didn't think about my friends and family who have helped me to get here. I thought of NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING.
The road which lay ahead was now a narrow corridor surrounded by a meaningless blur. A solitary blankness.
A heavy constant drum beat and piercing guitar played with fury inside my brain. I spoke the words to unheard music as I ran—
In the howling wind
Comes a stinging rain
See it driving nails
Into the souls on the tree of pain.
run, run, run
From the firefly
A red orange glow
I see the face of fear
Running scared in the valley below.
run
drink some gatorade
jim says to swish it around in my mouth then spit it out
ok
drink some more now. swallow it
drink some water now
spit it out
walk slowly
walk faster
now run
Bullet the blue sky
Bullet the blue sky
run
In the locust wind
Comes a rattle and hum.
Jacob wrestled the angel
And the angel was overcome.
run
You plant a demon seed
You raise a flower of fire.
See them burning crosses
See the flames, higher and higher.
i'll try this gu. ok. just a little bit jim says… with some water
run
drop that gu on the pavement
run, run, run
Bullet the blue sky
Bullet the blue sky
Now this guy comes up to me
His face red like a rose on a thorn bush
Like all the colors of a royal flush
And he's peelin' off those dollar bills
Slappin' 'em down
One hundred... two hundred.
run
drink
run. wait. stop. my stomach. fuck. am I about to puke?
no. I'm ok. fuck. settle down now… settle down.
sip some water
walk
walk
run
And I can see those fighter planes
And I can see those fighter planes
Across the mud huts as children sleep
Through the alleys of the quiet city streets.
We take the staircase to the first floor
We turn the key and slowly unlock the door
there's a bunch of people in purple standing there
ok
what can I do?
run
lift my arm up
put it back down
A man breathes into his saxophone
And through the walls we hear the city groan.
Outside, it's America
Outside, it's America
America.
there's amy up ahead
is that amanda?
Across the field
See the sky ripped open
See the rain coming through a gaping wound
Pelting the women and children
And we run
And we run
And we run
Into the arms...
Of America.
i'm close. it's almost over. it's almost over.
As I approached the end, Amy glided beside me and spoke softly in her familiar voice. A long and arduous journey was finally coming to an end. Unable to speak, I replied by touching her shoulder. I could see Amanda running ahead and to the left. I think Jim was still there somewhere nearby. I looked straight ahead down that narrow corridor as I ran with what little remained of my will and desire. And then I was alone, and as the finish line slowly began to formulate itself at the end of that long and narrow corridor, I ran faster.
____________________________________________
Thank You
To my friends, family, and teammates, all of whom have helped me and inspired me to achieve this goal: thank you.
To Team in Training, The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, and all who have shared their stories of hardship, struggle, loss, and recovery: thank you. You have made me a better person.
Finally, an enormous debt of gratitude is owed to Amy and Jim. The title of "coach" does not sufficiently describe the role you play in so many of our lives. You are mentors, teachers, role models, and friends. I could not have done this without your kindness and generous support.
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| Coach Jim Purvis, me, Coach Amy Sitar. |
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| Me, somewhere near the finish of the 2013 New Jersey Marathon. |
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| Me, shortly after completing the 2013 New Jersey Marathon. |
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