Bass Pro Marathon: The lesser-known marathon

Danielle, three kids, and I pile into her car the day before my race to drive the course. Going through neighborhoods and by businesses, I am transported to a time in my life when running a marathon was an unachievable goal. I've come home to run. Now, I am fully-loaded for this upcoming adventure.

As we drive, William and Caden shout out mile markers. Huge numbers were hung on scaffolding. I heard they were big, but I had no idea how much. Getting tired of being in the car, we make it to mile 23 before we decide to forget the last few and head to the expo to pick up my race stuff.

We quickly learn that 'expo' and 'packet pick-up' are one in the same. With just a few shirts hung on racks, the two boys are disappointed in the free schwag they receive at the much anticipated expo-a pencil and a sticker.

Race day

Getting things organized and still playing mother in the AM, I am suddenly feeling the anxiety of getting not just me, but several other people ready and out the door on time. With strong urging on my part, I push everyone out the door at 6:15; we arrive at 6:30--no traffic, no problem parking. Race starts at 7:00. Where is everybody?

I have Danielle drop me off right in front of the porta-potties. No lines here either and tons of options. Where is everybody? It's cold, so I head inside the main entrance to Bass Pro.

Found them! Packed like sardines, runners from the 5K through marathon are huddled in the main entry way of the world's largest outdoor retailer. I stand around chatting with my friends and prepping Danielle's daughter Shelby for her first 5K. I make sure she doesn't wear the race shirt, has her number pinned on the front, and give her some pointers on how to place yourself at the start.

Minutes before 7am I step outside for one more trip to the porta-potty and put myself towards to front of the start. Frank Shorter is there and gives a brief pep talk. The national anthem is sung by a barbershop quartet and, with a late start, the air horn goes off.

It's cold and I start out pretty fast. I kept checking in with myself to be sure my pace was comfortable and not beyond something I could hold. After the first few miles I am holding an 8:15 pace. I am seeded as the fourth female. Knowing there is plenty of race left, I try not to get too wrapped up in placement.

At mile 6 I see my mother, brother, and sister in law sitting on a hillside opposite the street I'm on. I spot them before they see me. I enthusiastically wave my arms and shout, "Good Morning!" in my most sing-song voice.

Again at mile 10, I see the same crew and wave excitedly at them. Then, as I cross Glenstone, my mother is standing next to the scaffolding of mile 13 with camera in hand. I see no sign of the gatorade I gave her. "Gatorade?" I ask. "Up ahead" she replies. I scan ahead and see nothing. I hear, "Erin!" and I stop and turn back.

"What?!"

"Nothing, just keep going!"

What the heck does she think I'm doing?! I see my younger brother Conor and Hannah and try again, "Gatorade?" Hannah proceeds to hand me the bottle. "Open it" I bark not trying to be rude, just efficient. "Pour" I demand. Hannah dumps it in my water bottle.

I see Danielle at 15. She hands me my 'kibble' as she called it (chopped up Clif bar) and I ask her to bring my inhaler to mile 21, which is where she will be next. I am feeling chest tightness, but try to talk myself through it.

The race is starting to wear on me now. I force myself to eat my kibble and am fighting boredom. It's such a small race and the runners have all spread out, so there is hardly anyone around. People are kind and come out of their houses to clap a few times and halfheartedly say, "Nice job". I quickly figure out though, that I must draw from my own love to uplift my spirits.

My mom and crew are out at mile 16. I'm so glad she could make it to so many miles to see me. To lift my own spirits, I say to them with a slight hint of sarcasm, "You guys should try this, its fun!"

You would think I was forced to do this against my will. The mental aspect of the race was in full swing now and I am severely under-trained in this category. I have nothing to draw from. I try to picture my friend Mitch's silly(editor's addendum: very good-looking and youthful) face distracting me from the torture. I think about Christian smiling and saying, "You look good, honey. Go get 'em." For the first time in my marathon I say out loud, "Where are you Dave?"

Mile 18 sucks. I'm in a part of town which I never liked before and have no memories to draw from. I see my older brother Brandon with my sweet little nephew Elijah standing on the corner. "Gatorade", I say, "Open it...pour". Mmmm, nothing like salty gatorade to make you want to sit down and give up. Yuck!

At this point things start to hurt. My knees cringe, my hips ache, and the unmentionable area is in agony. I try to talk to myself, but my brain has already called it a day. If I can just break up the rest of the race based on who's where and what's left maybe the race won't seem so daunting.

Pushing towards mile 21, I see Danielle. She hands me my inhaler and I take two quick puffs off it. "Gloves" I say. With a panicked expression Danielle frantically searches my stuff looking for gloves. "No, back there" I point behind me where I just threw my gloves for her to retrieve.

As glad as I am my dearest friends and family came out to provide support, I am struggling to be uplifted by their presence. They are breaking up the race to give me something to look forward to, but the boost I receive from them is too short-lived to pull much motivation from. "Dave, where are you?"

I rehearsed moments like this in the race. Before this day, I was planning to think about the yummy chocolate milk at the finish line, the one-of-a-kind gifted shirt waiting for me in my post-race bag, my sweet William's face who will be glad to be back in his mommy's care. Why couldn't I summon them up?

After two more miles, Stacey and Chris are the last of my support. I hand Stacey my empty water bottle and say hello to Chris. Just after passing them, Chris's song, 'Spark' comes on my ipod. The man's got talent and I feel happy for a moment.

"Ow", I keep saying. Everything hurts, my feet, my calves. I have to launch my body up a curb at mile 24. Onto the last bit of Greenway trails, I head into a tunnel underpass. Though brief, the tunnel messes with my head and I feel dizzy. Thinking no one is behind me, I burp and it echos in the tunnel. Sure enough, there IS someone behind me. Oh well, runner's aren't known for their lady-like disposition.

My chest tightens, I feel the tears welling up. I fight the urge to cry, I need to stay calm and breathe normally; hyperventilating is not a good idea at this point. "Dave, get me through this." I whimper aloud.

The last two miles were like eternity. Winding through a neighborhood I was unfamiliar with I had no idea what to expect. Since we skipped this portion of the course drive, I didn't know how many turns there were. Each turn put more stress on my legs. If I could just go straight it was bearable, but turning required more weight on one leg and, of course, the pitch in the road changed as well.

I see a little boy from behind on the sidewalk. He looks just like William and I have to fend off tears once more. My heart aches to see him, I simply must get to the finish and find him!

With less than a mile and half to go, I see two marathoners walking. "C'mon guys, lets go!" I say ordering them to move. They both instantly pick it up and we three run strong. I see the 26 mile banner along a fence and I kick it in with all I have left. The two guys follow suit and stick with me.

I hear the MC counting down, "5,4,3,2,1..." NOOO! That means the 4 hour time limit just passed! I cross the finish line, vaguely notice a few friends on the other side of the fence, and hobble out of the finishing area. As I walk, I can't fight it anymore. I break down. Danielle is there first and I sob on her, then she passes me on to Stacey and I continue to sob.

Hugs all around and congratulations from everyone. I stand around for a bit and talk to everyone, but my legs start to scream at me, so I tell them I have to keep walking. I walk though the post-race festival.

"Beef stick?!" I give the insane man a look of disgust. "After a marathon? No thanks". Yeah, that's what someone who just finishes a marathon wants - beef stick!

Danielle hands me my bag of clothes and I head inside Bass Pro to find a bathroom to change in.The crowds of shoppers give me sideways looks as I fight my way past wearing my mylar cape, knee-high compression socks and salt-encrusted face. I finally find the bathroom and head into the handicap stall. I figured I'm pretty physically inept at this point and really need the extra room to change.

I slowly take off my drenched marathon wardrobe. As I put on my dry clothes I get to my 'new' shirt. I hold Coolman's Last Stand up and take a good look at it. I'm tired, I'm beaten, nothing on my body wants to work. Though unhappy with my time, I am so glad I did it and so proud of finishing. I tried to take my running friends with me during my race. Mitch pushes me to a faster pace, Christian inspires me to go the distance.

I flip the shirt around and look at the back. There's Dave standing in front of the finish line. That's when it all comes flooding in. Dave Cooley was there when I first started running races, and he has unknowingly been there for several more important events in my life so I had every intention of taking him with me to this event too. I bury my face in the shirt for a moment and wipe the tears out of my eyes.

My marathon, and really life in general, is about the journey and not the finish line. No matter how you get there or how long it takes you, it is important to savor the moments during. Finishing is a gift that allows you to reflect back on how far you've come. However, the adventure doesn't end when you finish the race. The finish line just gives you experience and knowledge for your next event.

Dave may not be able to run with me, but he was there pulling me through my race. Now that I finished the Springfield Marathon, it's time I find something closer to home and put Dave on the 26.2 mile marker for real!