Many people have asked me about my race day experience. First, I want to say this is wonderful
event, and I hope to participate in it again. It is more than just a run, but it is a run to remember the
168 people whose lives were stolen from them on April 19, 1995 in downtown
Oklahoma City. Every runner
is encouraged to choose one of the victims, put their name on slip of paper and
run in their memory.
As I approached the start, I was really excited, and nervous. I decided to do the early start,
at 4:30 AM, to give myself more time to finish. I was not alone.
At 4:30 AM, I lined up with about 250 people in the dark. At the starting line, there were
pictures and teddy bears left to those who lost their lives in the
bombing. I can remember the day
the bombing happened as if it were yesterday. As the starting gun goes off, I am filled with excitement,
and emotion, determined to run in the memory of someone who was my age when
they lost their life.
The first mile goes by easily.
I run by the arena where the Thunder had defeated the Mavericks in the
NBA playoffs just 5 hours earlier, still full of emotion. We turn north and head up a long
overpass that seems to take ten minutes to clear. At this point, we have a police escort, but we are totally
in the dark, and I realize we most likely will be until 6:30. My GPS watch does not have a light, so
I have no idea what pace I am going, but my legs tell me I am moving a little
slower than usual. I don’t want to
break out ahead of the pack, because I am afraid I will get lost, so I go ahead
and stay at the slower pace, remembering the words of my friend Kenny O’Malley,
“You can’t start too slow.”
The first hour and a half are fairly easy. I am going slow, it’s cool outside, and there are not many
hills. I stop at the outhouse, and when I start up again I speed up again to
catch back up to the pack. It’s
then I see the three young men, about 20 years old, with backpacks full of
weights strapped to their backs.
I ask them how much weight is in the packs, and they say 56 pounds in
each pack, which totals 168 pounds, one pound for each person who lost their
life in the bombing. I run with
them for a mile or so, then move ahead, completely inspired and in awe of these
young men.
The sun comes up, and I hear the gun and race start 10 miles behind
me. I am feeling great, and run an
even pace towards the lake. I
cross the half marathon point, feeling great, and I stop at the outhouse again,
and take time to adjust my shoes.
I approach the lake, and I am feeling great. I cross mile 14, then 15, then 16, and I stop in the
outhouse gain because the glow in the dark laces on my shoes keep getting
loose. While I am in the outhouse,
it starts pouring down rain. I
start out again, and though the rain only lasts a minute or so, my feet are now
totally soaked. During one of my
stops, the young men with the backpacks pass me. At this point, one of them is standing on the side of the
road, with leg cramps, but he refuses to quit. We all cheer him on as we pass him.
After the lake, there is an overpass someone else had warned me
about. It’s not that steep, but
it’s long, and after 17 miles of running, it’s a challenge. Once I clear it, I feel good again, and
head into a long stretch with no hills.
I look at my watch, and realize my 15 to 19 mile stretch has been my
fastest of the day. As I approach
20, I am feeling great, and wondering why I am not hurting more.. I am drinking at every water stop,
taking a banana whenever it is offered, eating pretzels when they are offered,
and taking a GU gel every hour. As
I approach 20, I am feeling great.
The next stretch is the loneliest stretch of the race, a long run down
Clausen street. This is the only
area of Oklahoma City I am actually familiar with, and it’s at this point I
realize how far away from the finish I am, 6 whole miles. The mental fatigue begins to set
in. My legs feel good though, and
I push through my temporary pangs of panic, and before I know it I am into mile
22, and I can smell the end. There
is a little rain again, but it’s not bad, but I do feel my toes starting to rub
against my socks. I don’t know
what to do. I don’t have an extra
pair of socks, and although I feel good, I know there is probably no way I can
bend over and take my socks off and put my shoes on again anyway, so I just
push through it.
Mile 23 comes and goes, and I am getting tired, but I’m still feeling
good. The crowds are getting
better. People are more and more
encouraging. At this point, there
is no doubt in my mind I am going to finish, but the question is, how am I
going to finish. My toes start to
hurt a little more, and I realize I have blisters on both feet. My feet also feel like they are on
fire. My legs feel good, my back
feels good, I have not gotten any cramps, if it was not for my feet, I would be
doing great. Unfortunately, I need
my feet to finish!.
Right past mile 25, a woman
offers me a jolly rancher. She
looks at my face and says it will help with the pain. I don’t know if it really does, but I take it, and keep
moving forward. We catch up with a
group of half marathoners, and they start to encourage us. At this point, every inch of my body is
in pain. I have not gotten a
cramp, but I am willing myself to move. Finally, I get to the 26 mile marker, I
turn the corner, and I can see the finish line. People are lined up on both sides of the street, and I pick
up the pace a little, the pain less noticeable. I get to the finish line, and it’s over. 5 months, 400 plus miles out on the
trails, early mornings, late nights, running when I felt like it, and running
when I didn’t- it all ended at the finish line. What a great day.
