All is well that ends well

I sit here today sore and tired, but extremely happy to say that the marathon went really well on Sunday. My aching hips and tight hamstrings are a small price to pay for the experience I shared with thousands of others. The morning started off a bit frantically. I got up at 4:40am because it was advised to arrive at Dodger Stadium two hours before the 7:24 start time. Keith and I were on the freeway by 5:30 but two miles outside of the stadium we got stuck in traffic with all of the other cars, shuttles, and buses heading to the starting line. We went about 2 blocks in 45 minutes and then, all of a sudden, it was 6:45. After drinking coffee and more than 24 ounces of water, I was dying to use the bathroom, to say the least. Soon the question became whether or not we'd all get into the stadium before the gun went off. Others obviously shared the same thought because tons of people got out of their cars on the freeway and started walking. Some eager souls jogged. I finally decided to join the crowd when there was a little less than a mile to go. Those that have been to marathons before know about the relaxed bathroom etiquette -- men and women alike were dropping their pants on the side of the freeway to relieve themselves. I was tempted, but I knew the porta-potty's were just inside the parking lot and I could see it a block or so away. What a bad idea that was. I got to Dodger Stadium just before 7am and the lines for the porta-potty's were like nothing I had ever seen at other races. I was ready to burst but instead of scaling the hills around the parking lot like so many others (I thought for sure I'd pee on myself at that angle), I got in line. The energy, even around the toilets, was palpable. The announcer shot the gun for the wheelchair racers to begin and then a few minutes later, a former American Idol contestant sang the national anthem. I was resolved to the fact that I'd just have to start the marathon late because at 7:20 I was still in line with thousands of people for the toilets. Luckily, the organizers decided the horrendous traffic was reason enough to delay the start time to 7:47. I made it to the porta-potty without an accident (an accomplishment in itself considering the amount of fluid I had consumed), and then to the starting line with five minutes to spare. What a relief! While we anxiously awaited our send off, the announcer gave a wonderful pep talk and then played "I love L.A.!" by Randy Newman over and over again. This song is only acceptable, and actually enjoyable, in that environment. The gun went off and we all slowly began to trot towards the starting line. I was so far back that it took me five minutes to cross it, but I got there and the adrenaline was pumping. It was that adrenaline or my less-is-more three-run per week training program that made the following ten miles fly by (more likely a combination of both). The advice of my brother-in-law, Craig, kept ringing in my ears, "The first ten miles are free - don't waste energy on them". He was right. And actually, miles 10-15 were also somewhat free. As I approached mile 17, I kept thinking about the infamous "wall" that many runners hit around that point because of both physical and mental fatigue. But I was fortunate to pass that mile marker on pace and ready to tackle the last few nine.

The course itself was well laid out. Anyone visiting Los Angeles and wanting to see the major sites would have been satisfied. After leaving Dodger Stadium, we ran through Echo Park and Silver Lake, before making our way through downtown Los Angeles. From there we headed into Hollywood. We actually ran straight down Hollywood Boulevard and past the Kodak theatre and the Grauman's Mann Chinese theatre- another historical landmark. Having lived near Hollywood before, the street itself is familiar to me, but others seeing it for the first time would agree it's quite a spectacle. After getting through West Hollywood we entered Beverly Hills. The course took us on to Rodeo Drive, which high end shops offered a nice distraction. Just as I was rounding the corner of Rodeo and Wilshire Blvd, I saw my younger brother, Kevin, alongside the road and was able to get a quick high-five from him. Seeing his familiar face was a great boost. From there we went through Century Century, West Los Angeles, Brentwood, and finally arrived to the place where I was raised, Santa Monica. I have to admit, seeing San Vicente Blvd. was a breath of fresh air (quite literally since we were only a couple of miles from the ocean). I was really starting to feel pain in my hips between miles 21 and 22, but getting to that final destination gave me a second (or maybe it was my third, fourth, or fifth) wind. I think momentum also played a big part in carrying me. Just before I hit mile 24 I saw the beautiful faces of Keith, Madeleine, my brother, Jonathan, and his son, Sean. I needed their cheers right then more than I realized. I was able to pick up speed during the last two miles due to the slight but steady decline. My goal time was becoming a reality. Ocean Avenue was lined with spectators, and for the final mile I turned off my ipod and listened to the crowd cheering. What a feeling! As I crossed the finish line, I felt a combination of pride, exhaustion, and humility. Seeing the veteran runners next to first-time marathoners, along with the legacy runners who had completed every single L.A. Marathon since it started 25 years ago, was very awe-inspiring. People of all shapes, sizes, and ages were out there, and even when the course was closing almost nine hours later, I still saw people making their way to finish line. Such dedication.

Today I'm moving much slower than I was on Sunday, but these muscles aches are reminders of an achievement I set out to accomplishment almost five months ago. I not only achieved my goal, but did better than anticipated. I'm addicted to the emotions that come with running a marathon, so while I'll definitely enjoy the next few recovery days, you can be sure you'll be hearing about my next endeavor very soon.