WELCOME BACK, KOTTER

I am back. My absence was unavoidable. But you can read all about it in the two-part segment entitled "Boston Or Bust - 26.2 Miles To Go". Thank you for your patience and your threats. Now we can once again resume our abusive relationship, but remember, no spooning until you say you love me.

BOSTON OR BUST - 26.2 MILES TO GO (PART I)

On April 18 at noon, I started off on a goal that took me 19 years to achieve. That goal was running in the Boston Marathon. Sometime back in high school, a friend and I joked about how our goal was to run the Boston Marathon. This was absurd because we weren’t distance runners, we were 3-milers at best. We just kind of thought that maybe one day it would be nice. And now we jump ahead 15 years.
After a 15-year break from running, I decided I needed to start running again. I was 25 pounds overweight and an overeating, drunken slob (for more in-depth coverage of this time of my life, refer back into the archives for the story entitled “Endurance Junkie”). Well, I started running…and running and running. Then I started running marathons. All of the sudden, I thought that maybe that goal I had joked about in high school could now be achieved. I was not at the Boston Marathon caliber of running yet, but I could be if I worked harder.
You see, to run the Boston Marathon, you have to qualify by running a designated fast time for your age group, say 35-39 years of age. My qualifying time would need to be 3 hours, 15 minutes, or 3:15. My first marathon back was done in a 3:57. Not bad, but I had a ways to go. Eventually, I got a little better and better. My progression of times were as follows: 3:45, 3:41, 3:35, and then 3:25. I was getting much closer to my goal of 3:15. And then I had two troublesome marathons of 3:51 and 3:48. I was going in the wrong direction and thought that maybe I couldn’t do it.
But a simple three months after these two troublesome marathons, I was at the starting line for the San Diego Rock and Roll Marathon. This marathon had worn me down once before, so I knew I had my work cut out for me. When I got to the halfway point of this marathon, 13.1 miles in, I was right on pace to finish in 3:15, but I still had another 13.1 miles to go. I knew soon I would start wearing down and would have to run through some pain and some cramps.
With one mile to go, I looked at my watch and realized I was still right on pace, but I was beginning to fade. I thought to myself this was the do-or-die moment, and it could all fall apart here. I just put my head down and pushed my legs as hard as they could go after running 25 miles already. I actually started passing people in my jaunt to the finish line. If I don’t slow down, I might be able to make it, but I knew it would be close. Then I turned a corner and saw the finish line 200 yards ahead. I told myself to just hang on for another 200 yards and you’ve got it. I chugged and chugged and finally crossed the finish line. I stopped my watch and looked down at my time. I saw it and I couldn’t believe it. I had to take another look.
After all that hard work, after all those miles of running during my training for this race, after all those years that just wasted away, I could not believe that my watch was correct. I needed a 3:15…and my watch said 3:14:56. I had done it, with four seconds to spare! All of the sudden, the pain I was feeling went away. My exhaustion had suddenly turned into overwhelming energy. I felt like I could run forever.
I went back to my hotel room after the race and I just couldn’t stop smiling. It was a weird feeling to achieve a goal that seemed so unattainable. And to achieve that goal a mere 19 years later somehow made it all the more sweet. I just remember looking in the mirror before I left and asked myself a question I had asked myself before when I was a drunken overweight slob (see “Endurance Junkie” story in my archives)—“Where are you going to go from here?” And this time my answer was, “Boston”.

(Stay Tuned For Part II)

BOSTON OR BUST - 26.2 MILES TO GO (PART II)

At noon on April 18, 2005, the gun went off and the Boston Marathon had officially begun for me. There were 20,000 people lined up at the start, and all at once, we were all on our way. It took me four minutes to finally get to the starting line since there were 5,000 people ahead of me, but once I did, I achieved the first part of a goal I had set 19 years prior. Now I was off on part two of that goal—to finish the Boston Marathon.
Many things can go wrong during a marathon that could prevent you from finishing the race. An injury could thwart your hope of finishing the race within the first hundred feet. So I was well aware my goal of finishing this marathon was not some guaranteed thing. I knew it was going to take a lot of hard work, but I felt like I had it in me.
The starting line was 26.2 miles outside of Boston in a town called Hopkinton. The map I saw of the course said it was supposed to be downhillish for the first 12 miles, but within the first mile we came upon a hill. I was like, “What the hell is this?” For the next ten miles, we ran across a lot more hills than the course map led you to believe there were. This was going to make it harder because the big hills lied ahead at mile 16 through 18, which is called “Hell’s Alley”, and at mile 19 to mile 20.5, which is the granddaddy of all hills called “Heartbreak Hill”.
The really great thing about this marathon was that there were crowds everywhere cheering all us runners along. You see, in Boston, the marathon is always held on a day the city calls Patriot’s Day. To demonstrate how big a holiday this is to the people of Boston, a bartender told me he would work Christmas, Easter, St. Patrick’s Day, and his birthday just to get this day off. He says this is the best day of the year for Bostonians. And from the look on the peoples’ faces as we ran by them, I’d have to say he was completely right in his assessment.
Well, around mile 12 we entered a town called Wellesley and all of a sudden I could hear faint screaming. I noticed we were getting closer to an Ivy League all-girls college, and the closer we got, the louder the screaming seemed to get. And it was here I saw a sight I couldn’t believe. As we entered the college, there were girls on each side of the narrow road screaming as loud as they could. Apparently, this college has been doing this now for over a hundred years. This part of the course is known as “Scream Alley”. How great was this? I high-fived a number of girls and actually got kissed on the cheek by one of the girls. I’d have to say running in this marathon was already well worth it.
Unfortunately, to achieve my goal of finishing this marathon, I had to leave this college and continue on. So I did. Around mile 15 my legs were now starting to weaken from the rolling hills earlier in the race and I still hadn’t reached the serious hills. And then at mile 16 I saw my girlfriend on the side with my two friends who had flown out to cheer me on. She handed me a bottle of water. This was the perfect boost for me right before I started tackling the hills ahead. With that feeling, I went straight into the hills.
Miles 16 through 19 were tough but they did not break me. And then I reached Heartbreak Hill. This was a hill divided into two parts, with the second part being the steeper of the climbs. My legs were really tired at this point and I knew I was beginning to fade, but I could not let myself be broken here. I just motored through the hills, and when I came to the summit, a smile came across my face.
That smile quickly went away, though, because I still had another 6 miles to go and it was going to be a hard six miles. I had to slow my pace down and I was getting a little lightheaded. My thought here was unless I pass out, I will achieve my goal of finishing this race. So I just listened to the crowds cheering and tried to ignore the pain.
Once we reached Boston’s city limits, the crowds grew much larger and much louder. I was really trying not to stop because I knew if I did, I might actually never start up again. The problem I was having was my lightheadedness turned a lot worse. I was finally coming up on mile 25 and I got a great surprise—my girlfriend and my friends were there cheering me on again. I was so glad to see them. It gave me such a boost I actually started to run like it was the first mile of the race again. Immediately after seeing them, I passed the sign that said “one mile to go” and I was now flying again. The sides of the road were lined with crowds screaming so loud I couldn’t hear what a runner next to me was saying. We made a right on one corner and ran to the next block and made a left. This put us onto a street called Boylston that put us into an area called Copley Square. It was here I could see the finish line up ahead.
This area is, as one writer put it, “the runners’ holy grail,” and I couldn’t agree more. The feeling that came over me was overwhelming. I couldn’t believe that I somehow, after 19 years, made it to this point. The last 500 yards or so were just filled with me looking into the crowds, looking up to the sky and smiling. And then I crossed the finish line. Part two of my goal had been achieved. It was at this precise moment that with a smile on my face a tear came out of my eye, and not a thing in life could ever take this moment away from me.

SPRING BREAKIN' 2 - ELECTRIC SNOOZE-ALOO

Sorry for my absence. All stories will return a week from now. Thank you for your patience, and for some of you, thank you for your hate. In the meantime, may I suggest jailbabes.com in the meantime. Tell 'em Cruzbomb sent ya.