The tail end of a marathon…
Is not, I discovered last Sunday, all that fun of a place to be. Because of my leg issue, I decided to step up and take one for the team by volunteering to be the TNT pacer for the Phoenix Rock 'n' Roll marathon. Basically, I was supposed to maintain a 16:40 pace - while carrying a big mylar balloon - for the first 13.1 miles so that everyone could make it to the official cut-off and avoid being removed from the course and bused to the finish line. Sounds pretty simple, doesn't it? Well, my problems began when I got up in the morning and discovered that the mylar balloon they'd given me so people would be able to spot me had lost all its oomph and was lying listlessly on the floor. Now if you have any experience with mylar balloons, you'll know that they're practically indestructible and last for weeks (or even months). Not this one, apparently. Luckily, while we were sitting around waiting for the race to start, I ran into the other pacer who was taking over for me at the halfway point, and she let me borrow her balloon - although she did seem a little reluctant to hand it over, like she had some questions about my abilities as a balloon-bearer and was wondering if she was ever going to see her balloon again. Anyway, after securing the borrowed balloon securely, I ambled over to the starting area and took my position at the back of the last corral (with approximately 11,000 people in front of me). Pretty soon, the gun went off, there was a whole lot of cheering and shouting, and I started shuffling forward, then stopped, then shuffled a little, and so on until I crossed the start line and hit the start button on my GPS so I could keep track of my pace and stay on track. I may not have really wanted to do this, but by golly, I was going to do it right.
In case you're not aware, 16:40 is not all that fast of a pace. It's somewhere between a stroll and a determined stride, but I used my GPS to get in a groove and tried to ignore the fact that I was falling behind the back end of the marathon. Every once in awhile, one of the stragglers who must have hit the snooze button too many times would pass me and my balloon, but I just kept to the pace. I have to say that this whole thing was pretty surreal. It was like there was a marathon with thousands of participants happening just ahead of me, but I wasn't really a part of it. There's usually a surge of adrenaline and a sense of excitement and energy, but I was feeling none of it. I could see the people at the tail end about 200 yards ahead of me, and it looked like they were having a pretty good time, but there in the back, it was just me and my balloon, maintaining our 16:40 pace.
Nothing much happened until about mile 4, when some guys in a truck drove by, then pulled over by the mile marker and started tearing it down. They took down the sign and the clock, then held it up for me until I waved at them, and then they loaded it into the back of the truck and took off for the next marker. This pattern continued for the next 9 miles, and I have to say, it was pretty darn discouraging. I kept wanting to say - "You know, I really can go faster than this, but I'm supposed to go at this speed. Really. I swear." Instead, I just smiled, waved, and trudged onward, towing my mylar balloon behind.
Which soon started to bug me, because as I walked, the balloon would twirl around in the breeze, and pretty soon, the 8-foot long string/ribbon attached to the balloon got so tangled up that it became a 1-foot long string/ribbon, and the balloon was bonking me every time I took a step. So I unfastened the string, untangled it as best I could, and continued on my 16:40 pace way, waving at the crew taking down the markers every mile. At about mile 6, I spotted Uncle Lou and Aunt Susie (their house is right along the course) and I stopped and chatted with them for a few minutes (I'd built up a little cushion, so I had time to spare), and soon after that, a cop on a motorcycle drove up beside me and told me I was the last walker and that I needed to pick up the pace or he was going to make me start walking on the sidewalk so they could get traffic moving. I was like, "But I'm the pacer," and he was like, "You need to catch up with the rest of the group or move to the side," and since my self-esteem wasn't all that strong at that point (plus, he did have a gun, a nightstick, and probably pepper spray) I figured I'd better go ahead and speed up a bit, so I started doing 15 minute miles and gaining on the group ahead of me, which had thinned out quite a bit. While I was doing this, here are some other things I noticed:
-There aren't any lines for the port-a-potties at the back of the marathon, but they've all been, shall we say, well-used.
-Cheerleaders continue to refer to you as a "runner" (Way to go, Runners! Squeal! Shriek!) even though it's pretty apparent that you're walking and not running - and they refer to you in the plural even when you're clearly alone.
-Cheerleaders really like mylar balloons - a lot (I really like your balloon! A lot! Squeal! Shriek!).
-It's pretty discouraging to watch the water station volunteers breaking down their station as you're approaching.
-If you're used to running instead of walking and you suddenly have to walk instead of run, it's pretty likely that you'll develop some pretty nasty blisters (started about mile 9).
-I really don't like mylar balloons.
-It's pretty discouraging to look down at your watch and realize that people are starting to finish the marathon, but you haven't even reached mile 8.
-I'd always heard that the people at the back of the pack are way more fun than those closer to the front, but I'm not believing that one anymore - of course, I mostly walked by myself, so maybe all I'm saying here is that I'm not all that much fun to be around during a marathon (which I already suspected).
-People start telling you you're "almost there" even earlier when you're a walker than when you're a runner - I first heard that one at mile 11 (personally, I don't think you're "almost there" until you can actually see the finish line).
-There is no way I could have walked the entire marathon - nor do I ever want to do so.
At about mile 10, I finally caught up with the last TNT walker, and we walked together up until the 13.1 point, which we reached almost exactly 3 1/2 hours after starting (which, coincidentally enough, was the same amount of time it took me to run my last marathon). I gratefully passed off the mylar balloon, hopped on a bus, and rode to the finish line where I got my blisters bandaged and headed out to the course where I spent the next few hours running in as many of my teammates as I could (which actually turned out to be quite a few and made me feel better about the day as a whole). Then all the coaches hung around until the final finishers came in at right around the 8 1/2 hour mark. The second to last finisher was a guy who'd recently had a heart transplant, which was pretty amazing, and all of us lined up at the finish and gave him a hero's welcome as he jogged the last fifty yards. Most importantly, all 34 of our Tucson/Sierra Vista athletes finished their event successfully, and TNT as a group raised around $3.2 million at the event. So tomorrow evening, we have our first recruitment meeting for the next season, which officially begins in about a week and a half (Nashville, San Diego, and Seattle). Here's hoping I manage to stay healthy this go-round.
With that, I'll wrap up this tragic tale, hoping that until next time, your balloons remain inflated, your strings remain untangled, and your feet remain blister-free.
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