The entire AIDS group met in the hotel lobby at 4:45 AM, but I had already been up since 3:30 AM. We walked from the hotel to the start line....nearly 1.5 miles as a warm up. This is in front of the Bay Bridge at about 5:30 AM....
I was in the last group to start, and just as I expected....I got very caught up in the excitement. I was certainly going too fast the first 10 miles, and the first 10 miles was absolutely beautiful! We ran past quaint shops in San Francisco, the beach, stunning landscape....and at mile 5, we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge. Here I am on the bridge.... (yes, I took pictures while I was on course).
I had loads of energy that lasted until about mile 14 when I decided I was over this whole marathon thing. At about mile 15, one of my knees decided to pain me. I think it was from all those downhill bits. Hills in San Francisco are no joke. Brutal, I'm tellin' ya. At one point, I had to walk downhill backwards because the pain almost had me in tears.
Around mile 19 or so, the course simply disappeared. Gone. No signs, no water stops, not a soul in sight. It was a freakin ghost town. Thankfully I remembered to grab the course map as I walked out the door that morning. That map SAVED MY LIFE!
Somewhere between 20-21 miles, I decided I wasn't going to run anymore. It simply hurt too much. So I walked. And walked. And walked some more. Over and over I was passed up by people who looked like they were moving in slow motion. I can't even imagine how I must have looked hobbling along for 5 miles. It also was the beginning of the most awful scenery you could possibly imagine! Who decided this course was a good place to have a marathon? They should be slapped. Ghetto, drab, industrial. There was broken glass in the street, construction everywhere....it was terrible. It was already a psychological low point, so I guess they were trying to match that with the landscape. It looked a little like.....
At about mile 25, I became the last AIDS Marathon runner in the entire race. I figured it out because one of the coaches started walking with me and stuck around. He was the "designated driver"....the one who brings the last one in. I really would have preferred to have that last mile all to myself, but that's what happens when you're dead last.
In the 26th mile, I was supposed to cross a bridge about a city block long. As I approached, I saw that it was raised for a ferry below, and wasn't coming back down. So with about 1/2 mile to go, I had to take a detour. It wasn't what I wanted to hear at that moment, but it worked out.
I knew the finish line was long gone, but I knew my mom, dad, and brothers Edric and Zeke were waiting for me with a homemade finish line. The coach that was with me ran ahead to get a picture as I started to jog into the finish line. My family had to wait for him to pass, then they hurriedly stretched out colorful crepe paper for me to break through, all while trying to take pictures and blowing on noisemakers.
So..... Edric, noisemaker in his mouth, holding onto my camera, and stringing up a crepe paper finish line.....stepped backwards to make more room and tripped on a little sign that poked out of the ground. He fell to the ground, feet in the air, and the crepe paper ripped less than 2 seconds before I was to cross the finish line. I had been on course for 8 hours and 9 minutes, my first marathon, and at the most crucial moment of all.....my brother fell on his keester and stole my thunder. It was hilarious.....definitely a moment we will never forget.......and one we laughed about for 3 days. I told Edric he owes me for life. Here's a picture Edric took AFTER I would have crossed the finish line (with Zeke chasing after me)....
I love that I finished. I perservered despite injury, through fundraising, and 6 months of some intense training in a sport I had ZERO experience in. All in all.....I'm pretty damn proud of myself.
