Things sure do change over time, this January we will have a president that is younger than me, and he is also from a generation that has a different tilt on life than us Baby Boomers.
This Marathon trip also gave me the opportunity to visit with family for Thanksgiving in Portland, OR. We had some of my family and some of Kim’s family, all eating at the same table after just meeting, very American.
We made our way up to Seattle the day before the race to pick up my racing number and to be a part of the pre-race Spaghetti Dinner. And for the first time ever, I can report that I came in first, having gotten my plate and sat down before any one else. First place feels soo good!
The Seattle Marathon can be unpredictable, weather-wise, being the weekend after Thanksgiving. Some racers we talk with at the Spaghetti Dinner mention how 2 years ago it was 18 degrees and they had black ice to deal with. At our table is a couple, the lady a true runner with multiple half marathons and a few marathons prior, while her husband was attempting his first ever marathon – due to a dare. Well, that is one way to start this silliness. Another lady sitting with us was set to run the half marathon while hoping one day to do a full marathon, which I am sure she will accomplish.
The day of the race is cool and cloudy as I stand with 3,000 of my fellow runners shivering in my garbage bag (aka “coat”). A lady taps me on my shoulder and points to my shoe string – “That one is too long!” I fix it and look up and see my last night’s dinner couple standing, shivering and scared. “It is great seeing you again and good luck to both of you!”
The fog is low and the temps are around 50 as they sing the National Anthem and right in the middle of the song the fog lifts just enough to see the top of the Space Needle, as if she is looking down to see what is going on, and then she was gone again in a cloak of white. The gun goes off and we head out of town.
I start out slow since I know the hills start at mile 16 and don’t really end until mile 25. We are making a bee line out to Highway 90 where at mile 4 I had hopes of seeing Kim and her brother Bill for the first time. For some reason no spectators are allowed on the freeway and I don’t get to see them at that point. We end up going down a floating bridge, run in a tunnel for a mile, turn around and head back towards Seattle. I expect to run into my crew at around mile 8 and end up seeing them at mile 9. High fives all around and then back to it as I run out along Lake Washington. The scenery is great, though you can only see about 40 feet, you can see that all the ducks and geese in Pungent Sound have been grounded due to fog in the area.
This race course is like a big plus sign gone goofy in a couple places, so after meeting up once again with my crew at mile 15, I head off to the hills and away from the lake into the neighborhoods of Seattle. This city is hilly and I felt fortunate that there were not more hills, but still, they suck.
At around mile 17 I start running with a lady because I like her pace (that is true, believe it or not). She is of my generation, has a good manner as she waves to spectators and keep plugging along. We never say a word to each other; we just keep switching the lead as the miles go by. You need distractions to avoid losing focus and she works wonders for me.
This Marathon trip also gave me the opportunity to visit with family for Thanksgiving in Portland, OR. We had some of my family and some of Kim’s family, all eating at the same table after just meeting, very American.
We made our way up to Seattle the day before the race to pick up my racing number and to be a part of the pre-race Spaghetti Dinner. And for the first time ever, I can report that I came in first, having gotten my plate and sat down before any one else. First place feels soo good!
The Seattle Marathon can be unpredictable, weather-wise, being the weekend after Thanksgiving. Some racers we talk with at the Spaghetti Dinner mention how 2 years ago it was 18 degrees and they had black ice to deal with. At our table is a couple, the lady a true runner with multiple half marathons and a few marathons prior, while her husband was attempting his first ever marathon – due to a dare. Well, that is one way to start this silliness. Another lady sitting with us was set to run the half marathon while hoping one day to do a full marathon, which I am sure she will accomplish.
The day of the race is cool and cloudy as I stand with 3,000 of my fellow runners shivering in my garbage bag (aka “coat”). A lady taps me on my shoulder and points to my shoe string – “That one is too long!” I fix it and look up and see my last night’s dinner couple standing, shivering and scared. “It is great seeing you again and good luck to both of you!”
The fog is low and the temps are around 50 as they sing the National Anthem and right in the middle of the song the fog lifts just enough to see the top of the Space Needle, as if she is looking down to see what is going on, and then she was gone again in a cloak of white. The gun goes off and we head out of town.
I start out slow since I know the hills start at mile 16 and don’t really end until mile 25. We are making a bee line out to Highway 90 where at mile 4 I had hopes of seeing Kim and her brother Bill for the first time. For some reason no spectators are allowed on the freeway and I don’t get to see them at that point. We end up going down a floating bridge, run in a tunnel for a mile, turn around and head back towards Seattle. I expect to run into my crew at around mile 8 and end up seeing them at mile 9. High fives all around and then back to it as I run out along Lake Washington. The scenery is great, though you can only see about 40 feet, you can see that all the ducks and geese in Pungent Sound have been grounded due to fog in the area.
This race course is like a big plus sign gone goofy in a couple places, so after meeting up once again with my crew at mile 15, I head off to the hills and away from the lake into the neighborhoods of Seattle. This city is hilly and I felt fortunate that there were not more hills, but still, they suck.
At around mile 17 I start running with a lady because I like her pace (that is true, believe it or not). She is of my generation, has a good manner as she waves to spectators and keep plugging along. We never say a word to each other; we just keep switching the lead as the miles go by. You need distractions to avoid losing focus and she works wonders for me.
This race is the kind I like, they do not have major prize money like the East Coast marathons do and locals will win this race, as always (30 years and counting). They also are okay with IPOD’s and so I put mine on for the final 10 miles. At mile 23 when you really have no hope left, all you have is the music and the running buddy that keeps it going.
At about that time something happens, a series of songs start that makes me feel like Rocky (actually one song is from Rocky 1), and I start running with purpose and find strength to pump my fist. By mile 25 1/2, the final, Power song comes on and it is “Running on Empty” by Jackson Browne.
Running on – running on empty
Running on – running blind
Running on – running into the sun (not today!)
But I’m running behind
Everyone I know, everywhere I go, People need some reason to believe
I don’t know about anyone but me
If it takes all night, that’ll be alright
Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels (feet)
I don’t know how to tell you all just how crazy this life feels
I look around for the friends that I used to turn to to pull me through
Looking into their eyes I see them running too
Honey you really tempt me
You know the way you look so kind
I’d love to stick around but I’m running behind
You know I don’t even know what I’m hoping to find
Running into the sun but I’m running behind
I power past my running buddy and finish the last mile faster than the previous 25. (I do end up thanking her for all she did to help me - she said the same to me).
Things sure do change; on this day I wonder what my grandmother would have thought about me running marathons in all the west coast states – having started in 2003 in Oregon. I think she would have approved since she always showed me that she expected good things from me. My grandfather, who was so proud when he met his first Great-grandson, my son, too would have been okay with me doing this. He and I had a special bond. They are no longer with us physically to see the changes, but on this race day they were with me showing the way.
