Mile 1: I listen to my usual starting line jam, Prince’s “Purple Rain.” It’s long, not too fast and I have no idea what it means, so that can be distracting in a good way. I get lost in pondering the lyrics and lose sight of my sister and Z’s mother. I pass the lot where my car is parked and consider dropping out and taking a nap.
Mile 2: Despite the high volume of runners, the start is a fast one and before I know it we’ve split from the 5k runners. One of the volunteers tried to re-direct a woman by yelling, “Seven! Seven! This way!” I think maybe this wayward runner was feeling similar to me, Why didn’t I sign up for the shorter course.
.. and is it too late to change my mind? I also think few people respond when a random number is being shouted at them. Lil’ Wayne’s playing as I pass the McDonald’s on Soldiers Field Road and I start thinking about french fries.
Mile 3: I am running alongside the guard rail, so when I feel someone coming up behind me I am not sure how to move out of the way. I turn sideways to let this runner pass and see that it is an older man, wearing a Marines shirt and carring both the American flag and the Marines flag. He tapped my shoulder as he passed and said, “You’re doing great.” I watched him as he weaved through the crowd, making similarly encouraging comments to fellow runners as he passed. I feel a little emotional.
Mile 4: I think, Half way there! And then I think… Aaaaah! Only half way there?! I’m pretty sure (but can’t really remember) that by now I’ve crossed to the other side of the River into Watertown, having run through Allston, Brighton and a slice of Newton. Two girls wearing Super Fan tee shirts pass me. I think about my 3.5 years BC, which distracts me for about 3.5 seconds.
Mile 5: Just as start up the course’s only climbing hill, “I Second That Emotion” comes on my iPod and I can’t help but smile and think of my parents and dancing around in their kitchen. I reach the Mile 5 at the top of the hill and start to feel like the end is within reach. Gatorade, however, is not within reach, as all the speedier, greedier racers before me drank it all. I settle for a sip of water at the water station, nearly trip over my own empty plastic cup and keep on moving.
Mile 6: The mile marker reads “Mile 6: Free Beer at the Finish!” I feel like I might vom, partly because I just ran 6 miles and partly because I am now thinking about drinking a beer after running 7.5 miles. I’m listening to “Don’t Stop ’til You Get Enough” which seems like a good motivator. I think about Michael Jackson and how Uncle Dick probably would have found this all to be rather funny, especially the Herald’s “Fade to Blacko” headline. Then I see a dead bird.
Mile 7: I don’t remember there being a mile marker here, but that’s probably because I was preoccupied by what I can only describe as the wheels coming off. My nose is running. My skin stings from 7 miles of sweating. My hips, knees, shins and toes hurt. I think my ears are bleeding. Nope, that’s just more sweat. I click through my iPod until I get back to “Purple Rain” and finish the way I started, slow and steady. When I know I am close enough, I pick up the pace and cruise around the final bend, smiling. The sooner I finish, the sooner I can congratulate my sister (who finished well ahead of me and did amazingly), call my parents and give them the good news and thank Nick for all the motivation. And also, take a shower.
Also On Tap for Today:
How do you make it through a long run? Any suggestions for the iPod?
[Map: Boston Athletic Events]
Remember that joke (by joke, I mean revolting display of partially chewed food)? I do. If you want to hear another joke (one that’s more funny than disgusting), ask me about the pirate and the ship’s wheel.
