The next line is going to come as a bit of a surprise to some of you, or may be viewed with skepticism, but trust that it did happen; there is proof.
I ran a marathon.
A lot of factors went into this decision, but at the time of make it I had just finished running 10 miles at a “Turkey Trot”, thoroughly enjoyed Pumpkin spiced pancakes with a delicious caramel topping, and my parents were visiting me in Hawaii. I feel timelines are important, so I want to give you the full preparation prior to taking my first step at the 26.2.
11/25-Ran 10 miles (Turkey Trot), Overjoyed, Silly enough to verbally commit to a marathon
11/30-Parents leave Hawaii; Run 6 miles
12/1-Run a couple of miles
12/2-Fly to Oregon for the Civil War
12/5-No running in Oregon; Fly back to Hawaii
12/6-Run for 2 hours and 15 minutes
12/8-Light jog for about a mile
12/11-Officially Register for Marathon
12/12-Marathon Day
Beep! Beep! Beep! My alarm sounded at an inconvenient 3:15am, but I really didn’t need the alarm; I probably woke up every half an hour from 1am, nervous, excited, and terrified for the hours to come. My pre-race ritual was still TBD, so I decided to start the morning off with a nice shower. Post shower brought the Vasoline; I am just going to leave it at that, but I did use roughly 75% of the jar…No bloody nipples for this guy. Following the Vasoline was the band aids to cover them; Like I said, every precaution to take regarding nipple chafing was taken.
My race uniform consisted of Eddie’s running shorts, a tank top like running shirt, some type of running socks, and of course, the shoes. Sorry Eddie, but I openly admit that I kept a certain amount of freedom and refrained from using spandex. For a pre-race breakfast I had piece of peanut butter toast with honey and a 5 hr energy drink. Hip, Hup, Hip, Let’s go. Grabbing my iPod and the 4 energy gel packets, I left my apartment and walked towards the starting line (fortunate enough for me, the starting line was just around the corner).
They said, in terms of number of racers, that it was a down year for the Honolulu Marathon; I couldn’t tell. As soon as I approached a half a mile from the starting line, the floods of people overwhelmed me, and I stood out like a sore thumb. To my left I witnessed Japanese pre-race cheers; To my right I noticed Hawaiian running clubs; and in the middle stood me, a 6’4” howlie…what a goofball?!
For what little strategy I had going into the race, I felt that it was a solid one, however. Hashing through my plan while stretching, getting loose, jumping up and down with the typical pre-activity calisthenics, the firework start shook my concentration. The Race officially started.
Awesome Blossoms reading this blog, compare them to the BP 4th of July finale, multiple by 10, add 2, and divide by .47 and that is the magnitude and longevity of the firework display. And, these were just for a marathon. I nearly ran over 3 grandmas (I don’t know how they were in front of me), 2 kids (why were kids running this), and tripped a Korean gentlemen who seemed unenthused by my presence. 2 minutes after the gun, #10607 crossed the starting line and was off into the abyss.
The first mile seemed like a fast paced walk; crowded people jockeying for position, elbows flying, smiles ear to ear, naïve 6’4, Caucasians who decide to run a marathon two weeks prior were all crammed into a elongated rectangle. By the time mile two came around (geez, mile two already), I looked down at my stopwatch on my iTouch to realize, “Kraig, what the hell are you doing? You are starting off at a 10:32 pace!!” don’t worry gang, I understood that it was slow. Between miles 1 and 2, something inspired me. No, I did not turn on the playlist heard round the world. Nope, no siree. Instead, it was the guy off the beaten path, left leg lightly raised, peeing. I almost cried laughing, but rounding the corner, the lights off of the Irish pub blinded me back into reality. Perhaps this was the moment where the great white hope (me), kicked it into gear. It was.
Playlist. Begin.
“The smell of your skin…the taste of your…” What? Wrong song? Thanks though for the effort Lonestar. The actual beat got me going though; it was Citizen Cope, The Son’s Gonna Rise. Yep, the sun did rise…at mile 13.
I prayed for it to go back down.
By the time mile 13 came around, it was a ‘pinch-me’ moment to determine where, but most importantly, when, it was (that is a partial LOST reference). Things were feeling good though, legs fresh, people handed me pretzels, a banana, and the make shift garage band jammed out to Carry on My Wayward Son; Yes, please carry me!!!!
When everything was looking down and out, running up a gradual incline, sun blazing at a chart topping 78, I was blessed to have two people show up in my corner, Eddie (roommate) and Kristina. The joy in having somebody specifically call you out and cheer on your name is an instant adrenaline boost. When we were at the Ironman shouting at everyone to ‘keep trucking’, it didn’t sink in. To me, those were your basic every day words of encouragement, but to be on the receiving end adds perspective and most importantly, appreciation. So, prior to seeing Eddie and Kristina, I was starting to get emotional. Not because I was in pain, but rather because I was thinking about the relief upon crossing the finish line. Sure the pain was starting to arrive (no chaffing), but legs were tight, numb, and feet, hell, they burned.
Here we are, itching closer to the finish line when these two beaming faces surprised me. Their presence and support was a blessing, but they brought snacks! 5 hr energy, pretzels, and bananas, what else could you ask for?! Oh my, but there was more. Eddie proceeded to run the next 6.5 miles with me! Are you kidding me? That man is a saint, simply incredible. I wasn’t in the mood to talk, but Eddie sensed that and offered endless words of encouragement. “Kraig, you are doing a great job!” “Kraig, keep up the good work; you are on a great pace.” Perhaps Eddie’s biggest contribution is that he forced me to enter into unknown competitions with other runners.
Up until mile 20, I was jockeying for position with a shirtless guy wearing a Swedish flag and Viking horns; I did actually help the guy out at one point by throwing him extra iced sponges that I had snagged at one point. Back to the story now. Eddie was quick to say, “Kraig, you are not losing to that Viking. You need to beat him.” I did win, but the victory was in doubt. The last two miles of the race were downhill and it wasn’t until mile 25 that I was able to pass the Swede for the last time; He stopped, but this guy kept going. For the last stretch, Eddie had to take off, but I was able to find additional motivation to finish, another competition. This time, no swede. This time, a petite lady in her upper 50-60s was 100 yards in front of me. Facing exhaustion, complete soreness, I sprinted. I sprinted and took her down with 50 yards remaining. Oh man, what was I thinking?!.
Dizzy, light headed, too exhausted to even shed another drop of sweat, I reached the finish line at 4:11 and some change.
Guys, with the length of the blog nearing 2.5 pages already, I am going to cap it off here. Many, many thanks to Kristina, Eddie, Maggie, Thomas Risse and others that cheered me along the way. What an incredible experience; it is most certainly one that I will always hold near and dear.
Pictures to come, more blogs to post. If you want more exciting stories about the race, feel free to shoot me an email. Am I going to do more marathons? Yeah, definitely. But, let’s get a little variety. Triathalon? Hmm…Might need a couple months of training for that.
