As some already know, my training has taken a beating due to a foot injury. I haven't logged in the amount of miles I had originally intended. The Baltimore Half-Marathon was not THE race I am training for, but it quickly became an event I needed to do well in to boost my running spirits and get my marathon-head back in the game.
My good friend and running partner Mitch had more confidence in me then I did. He thought we could break 1:45, but I insisted on only beating my previous Baltimore Half time of 1:51.
The Baltimore Half-Marathon
Refusing to rush the start line, I walked to the start while Mitch and Judy tried to encourage me to run. I am a firm believer there is no point to rush a chip-timed start when all you will end up doing is fighting the thick of the crowd; I run when I cross the mats!
As the first few miles rolled on, Mitch ran slightly in front of me in what he thought was an incentive for me to catch him. I rebelled against the pressure and stuck to my own comfortable pace. Turns out my comfortable pace for the first few miles was an 8:15. As long as my foot didn't act up, I felt I had a good chance of beating my PR (1:46).
Around mile three was where the full marathon and relay converges with the half. Being a four-year Baltimore half-marathon veteran I knew better then to bum rush that water stop; it's total chaos at that point. Still feeling good and keeping my eye on Mitch in front, I sink into a good race pace. It was around mile four, after all the runners from the various events were seeded, that I see Jeff.
Jeff (or Whit) is one of my teammates from Back On My Feet. He is a rez-member who was running his first full marathon today. He was on mile 17 and was walking and looking very glum.
Now, first let me give you a background on Jeff: He is tall and lean and born to run. He makes running look effortless and he has pulled me through several runs including two long and painful 17 milers. He recently won his age group at the Tunnel Run 5K with a time of 19:38. He is an amazing runner, who only the night before, spoke of qualifying for Boston in his first marathon (3:35).
I was instantly drawn to Jeff when I first started running with BOMF. He is gentle and sweet and always incredibly polite. He lights up my morning when I come to run with team MCVET in the pitch dark at 5:30 am. When we run, I chat, and he's silent. For every three steps I take, he takes one. Still, we seem to be in sync.
When I saw Jeff walking and wearing an expression of defeat I yelled ahead to Mitch. He turns around and I shout, "Jeff!". Instantly, we are both at Jeff's side.
"What do you need? Did you eat? How much have you drunk?"
I have learned that my race performance is better when I take in two GUs, but I have certainly survived on less. I pull one of my GUs from my pocket, tear off the top and hand it to Jeff. "Let's go", I say. Jeff starts to run.
Not knowing if I am helping or hurting , I try to distract him from his misery. I tell him exactly what I think he is: A Giraffe. Why? A giraffe is tall and lean. A giraffe is graceful, gentle, and quiet. A giraffe is a harmless creature, but when it runs, it glides across the land and covers great distances in effortless form on its long, skinny legs.
My race was no longer about seeing what my feet can get me through. It was no longer about building my confidence back up to prepare for a marathon. I can try again another day, but Jeffrey only gets one first marathon and Mitch and I knew we had to help him see it through.
So we ran, and we walked. When we went by water stops we brought Jeff what he needed. I unwrapped his Starbursts while Mitch fetched Gatorade. We stopped when he needed to and we tailed him when he summoned up the strength to go again. He stayed in my sight right up until mile 10 (or 23 for Jeff).
Jeff was cramping really bad. I see the water stop ahead and I head over to fetch water for Jeff and me. When I turn around to find them, they are nowhere in the crowd. Did Jeff find a burst of energy again or were they walking? Did they run into the gas station for a pit stop?
I stop and look up and down the crowd of runners with no sign of either. I sprint ahead, then I stop and walk back and wait. I sprint ahead again and then stop and wait. Still no sign. I have a choice to make, they could be anywhere. I know Mitch won't leave his side so I make the tough call to get to the finish and wait.
Amazingly, I have a lot left in the tank and the last two miles I am flying past runners. I look at my watch at mile 11. Even though I sacrificed a lot of time, I am still only at 1:30! Jeff may not be in top form, but when he could run, he ran well. Not all was lost for my original goal of beating my time from last year.
I cross the finish line with a respectable time of 1:48:06. As soon as I cross, I pull over to the side and wait for Jeff and Mitch. Officials yell at me that I am hazard to runners coming in, though the five camera-men aren't considered a risk! I glare and argue that I am waiting for a friend who's hurting, but then shuffle on.
Fighting the tears that I had somehow betrayed Jeff and Mitch, I reluctantly grab my mylar wrap and medal and wait on the sidelines. Frantically scanning the crowd of finished runners I finally spot Jeff-good thing he's tall! I shove through the crowd and give him the longest hug. I'm am so relieved he made it. Mitch walked him in the last three miles, but made sure they ran across the finish line. I thank him and give him a big hug too.
After we go through the food line, we find a spot to sit on the ground.
"Thank you guys," Jeff says to Mitch and me, "you two are the meaning of a true friend. I couldn't have done it without you."
I remind him that what he did was simply amazing. He should be proud of himself. Instead he is beating himself up for not qualifying for Boston. With all the walking and cramping, he still finished his first marathon in 3:49-fastest BOMF first-time marathoner! Nobody should put Boston on their first marathon!
I told him I wouldn't stand for him being so hard on himself when he should be congratulating himself. Like a mini-celebrity, Jeff is approached by many runners asking how he did, The Back On My Feet people are like family. We slowly make our way back to the Sports Museum (thank you, Greg) to freshen up and relax. After more hugs, and congratulations, we three go our own way.
It feels good to know we helped a friend finish his first marathon. It feels even better knowing it was Jeffrey, my gentle Giraffe.
