This was my first marathon and it didn't go as well as I would have liked.
Here's what I thought of it in 1990:
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That night before the race I couldn't sleep. My head was clogged with various types of killer mucus (my head jus' wans ta
esplode) and I couldn't breath. I was tense about the race and so with all these things I didn't sleep very much. Just the
thing you want to do before you run a marathon, not sleep the night before. Friday night I didn't get much sleep either because I
stayed up until about 4:00am. So I was very well rested for the longest run in my life so far. Race day was the only cold day for
about two weeks.
The weather was nice the day before and beautiful the week after. Of course when I got up that day and listened to the radio I
heard about the 30 degree wind chill. Oooo, what a wonderful thing to hear. As soon as I woke up I started drinking water
and didn't quit until just before the race. I had so much water in me that when I relieved myself before the race, the waste
material that left my body was clear, probably pretty pure water. I was as hydrated as I had ever been.
After I had relieved myself I waded into the 10,000 people or so and looked for a place to get started. I started out about a
minute and a half from the starting line. I ran with some guys who said they wanted to run a three hour 30 minute race. I thought
that was a pace I could hang with. But they went out fast and so did I. I finished the first ten miles in about 80 minutes, a
little too fast for me. I finished the first half of the race in one hour and 46 minutes. I was dead too. I had mostly trained
with runs of ten miles or so, so I had pretty much shot my wad by running that fast, that early. By the time I hit 19 miles I hit
the wall.
I was urging myself not to quit running, but before I knew what was going on I was walking along. This was going north on Lake
Shore Drive, which seemed to be the longed part of the race. I had thought that when I got to LSD I would be almost there, but
when I got to LSD I had about 12 miles to go! Also going north, the wind was in my face and the sun was at my back, so it was the
coldest part of the race. I wasn't wearing any gloves and my hands were so cold that I couldn't feel anything when I blew on them
or put my fingers in my mouth.
The crowds along the way were pretty supportive and cheered for us as we by. But by the time I turned around to go south on
LSD I had nothing left, I used it all up on the first half. A normal man would have been dead from the intense physical stress of
running so far carrying 185 pounds of twisted steel on damaged knees and bruised feet, but I was bent on propelling myself ever
forward towards the finish line and the free food that lay in wait there, as well as the free massages that I could get at the end.
I ran and walked the last stretch down LSD and finally managed to run the last half mile at a good clip passing several people at
the end of the race. The crowds were cheering and all I could think of was how embarrassed I was to be finishing after four hours.
It was a bitter victory, I was happy I finished and got the medal and accomplished that feat, but I was pissed off I had not
trained more and run smarter and finished faster. There's always next time, and there will be a next time . . .
Back to the Running Vita of James B. Elliott