November 5, 2000

Race Report

Ross Baker

Comments to: BakRBB@netscape.net

              My first marathon was an experience marked by friendship, perseverance, and the exhilaration that comes with the realization and conquering of ultimate challenges. It was a cool and windy day and started at 5:30 a.m., when Ron and I trekked through the dark New York City streets to the buses that dispatched us to our camp site on Staten Island. Already the unknown was apparent in the air, the unspoken fear that, despite preparation and focus, failure was ready to greet like an unwelcome intruder you can no longer hold at bay. We arrived at the camp site and set up our ramshackle holding area, feasting on coffee and bagels while the other runners began to stream in. The site had the motley feel of a carnival and refugee camp rolled into one, all these people parading around in their thin clothing, gaunt bodies, and restless energy, idling their time as the bridge’s profile looming over them, their pathway to physical and spiritual escape.

                After a church service marked by off-key singing and communion, I strolled to the urine “troughs” for one last bathroom break and then prepared. Ron and I lined up in the green area (his group), said a prayer, and waited as the mark went off. Crossing the bridge was a dance of adrenaline across the city pavement, jockeying for position as the realization of what was happening took hold, a moment too surreal to describe. The next thirteen miles were a jaunt through the borough of Brooklyn as spectators turned out to wave and exhort, a cloudy day broken by the sun of their smiles and kind words. I felt extremely good, working out the skittish overkill of the first couple of miles to develop a good rhythm. Ron was a dutiful running partner, mindful of my pace and keeping up my spirits even as so much happened around us. He also was a good source of humor, slapping fives with the onlookers and exhibiting more energy than any fifty year old man should rightfully possess.

                Miles 8-10 were completed at a smooth level. And then it happened. A twinge in my left calf initially, then a more forceful tug. “What was happening to me?” Concern gripped my body. This was only mile 10, there was a whole race to go. Despite my pleas and prayers, the tightening persisted, taking both the left and right calves. It eventually developed to where I became afraid to push myself, relegated to a static, straight shuffle of the feet, no turn or bend for fear of the tightening becoming a full lock-up. Because of this, we were forced to slow our pace, but the feeling did not subside. A ribbon of tension worked down the back of my legs like a bloodstream, pulsing a tremor of shock  that I could not shake. We eventually walked several times during miles 11-14, drinking a lot of water and stretching as I tried to loosen the muscles. Despite the adversity, we managed to travel on and hit the Pulaski Bridge, the halfway point, at just over 2 hours.  

                Reaching mile 16, a wall of sound emanating from a ten-deep pile of humanity crowded along First Avenue greeted us and I was able to regain some control of my legs. Besides, we were able to find our group and chat for a few minutes before proceeding on. My second wind kicked in at this point and I knew that, as long as my sugar level held up, I would finish. We worked our way down the water and Gatorade-soaked streets, dodging the paper cups strewn about like parade confetti. Entering mile 20, we headed into the Bronx and the energy level I had suddenly disappeared. As we inched closer to the 21 mile mark, my thigh muscles began to spasm from the strain and my left knee began to throb. I also felt my sugar level drop. At every opportunity I ate or drank, including dipping into my reserve of Entenmann cereal bars and Bojangle’s iced tea. The crowds grew more sparse in this area and it became a test of will, just shuffling to maintain any semblance of a pace, knowing the finish line grew closer. I became tired of running at this point, just wanting, with all my physical problems, just wanting it to be over. Ron kept up my spirits with his comments, enthusiasm, and pace, even as mine in these categories waned. Then the magic came.

                Chocolate chip cookies! Like a glucose beacon in the body-ravished night, I made my way to the food stand and inhaled them, along with bananas, and juice. Suddenly my third wind was on hand and my pace quickened, knowing that a handful of miles remained. My legs still hurt, though, and the hills up to and in Central Park were a mother, forcing me to alternate walking and running. By mile 24, I had gone further than I ever had, and the only thing that kept me going was ego and God’s strength. We made it to Columbus Circle, legs stumbling feebly on fumes, and worked through the last mile point two with happiness, despair, exhaustion and elation. Seeing the finish line was a mirage, a cruel tease to be lifted from view, but finally it was real, the moment when it would be okay to be over, to be complete. I crossed on my proverbial last legs, the legs I thought had disregarded and disappointed me only to have them redeemed. I crossed to a finish, tears lining the sweat in my eyes.

Mile Splits

1.        10.90                                               14. 13.19

2.        9.00                                                 15. 11.30

3.        9.51                                                 16. 12.05

4.        9.32                                                 17. 11.50

5.        9.99                                                 18. 11.09

6.        10.09                                               19. 11.35

7.        9.24                                                 20. 12.06

8.        10.41                                               21. 12.09

9.        9.33                                                 22. 11.33

10.     10.07                                               23. 13.08

11.     10.56                                               24. 12.26

12.     10.35                                               25. 10.12

13.     11.54                                               26. 11.38