THE INAUGURAL RUNNING OF THE BALTIMORE MARATHON-
A GREAT EXPERIENCE FOR JOE, AND ME
LINKED TOGETHER IN A 26.2 MILE EFFORT
ON A BEAUTIFUL FALL DAY THROUGH BALTIMORE
Oct. 20, 2001
Joe and I each wore our finishers' medals, and went out to a Victory Dinner in Boston Market with the whole family, so Maria, Joseph and even four-month-old Michelle Grace, along with Betty, could cheer us after our long run. We had a very long walk together-up and over barrier fences, and around unmarked parking lots under highway overpasses, courtesy of my not knowing where I had left the Bronco when we had arrived late for the start of the race due to a gridlock on the Russell Street Exit ramp.
When I had finally found the car after Joe and I had noshed, sucked up large quantities of Gatorade and water to overcome our serious intracellular fluid deficits, we were in urgent need of a place to let the excess fluid out. When I got Joe into the car and drove down I-95 in the heat, he had immediately dozed off. I was drowsy too. In my case, that meant fighting to stay in a lane of the 75 mph speed limit But, we made it home to Joe's house without crashing-that is, until I did so, once again, on his couch, to nap after a brief shower while he did the same to wash the salt off from us in preparation for the victory celebration dinner that I had offered to Joe and the whole family-sort of like the one I had taken them on when their anniversary was celebrated by all but Betty-home in bed at the time in late pregnancy.
OUR ARRIVAL ON THE ACCESS RAMP OF RUSSELL STREET EXIT
JUST IN TIME TO START THE REGULAR GUN TIME OF THE MARATHON
When I had arrived late from Denver into Dulles, I began my struggle with the big duffel bag which I now knew weighed in over one hundred pounds. I hefted it through Washington Flyer and then got on the Metro, and only then realized that we were fighting my way through a Friday night, as I saw all the teen queens in their hormonal high heels and dressed to go out trolling. One of them asked me when I had asked her what the weather would be, and she asked if I were going to watch the Baltimore Marathon-since she lives on the course. I told her to b e on the lookout for two of us strung together. She said it was supposed to be warm. I had prepared Joe to expect the hills.
When I called Joe, he offered again the hospitality of his "Deluxe Accommodations for One" and I took him up on it, since it was too late for me to go home to my empty house where I had no food supplies after cleaning it all out a month before. When I arrived, Joe was preparing a pasta dinner for me-after midnight! He joined me and asked if the bowl of sauce were over the pile of spaghetti before he poured it out on the spaghetti. So, Joe and I ate a bit of Spaghetti pasta after midnight, and then I curled up on the couch, where only a couple of hours later Joe awakened, and we went through our rituals-complete with toenails trimmed and nipple Band-Aids applied. We got off to what should have been an early start, and headed into a later glorious sunrise over the Chesapeake, in rolling over the freeway system on I-95 into Baltimore.
There we came to a halt. The Russell Street Exit, which we had been specifically directed to take, was in gridlock. IT hardly moved, and we stood in the queue, knowing they would either have to postpone the start of the race or we would miss it. By special arrangement, we had permission to start with the wheel chair division, which was five minutes before the race started for all the rabbits. Joe asked if we could do two things---one was to stop at some place less indecent than most and pee off the wall, and second was to get as close as we could go to the front line. We did both. We came up to the starting line and stood a couple of feet from it for a total of two minutes, with the wheel chairs having been gone five minutes already when the gun went off-and so did we!
A FAST START-ALTOGETHER TTO FAST-
WITH JOW AND ME LEADING THE PACK-
UP TO WORLD-CLASS 10-K TIME1
We were off to a really fast start. I said to Joe that we would have to watch out for the hills coming up about 10-K into the race, at the point at which I had a practice run at many of them in the middle third of the course on a steamy hot summer humid day. But, we were ahead of almost everybody. Joe was wearing his "Visually Impaired" Logo, and that got comments and cheers from almost everyone around us "You guys are awesome!"-right after they had first puzzled why we were taking up two lanes and holding arms on the turns with a string on the straightaway.
At the first mile, we were a scratch over seven minutes. "Joe, that is a lot better than either one of us is-but especially me!" I said. "If it feels good, do it!" replied Joe. Our second mile marker showed us to be about fourteen twenty-"Good start!" said Joe. We kept this pace until I looked up and saw the six mile marker, and realized we had just done a blitzing 10-K on the front end of the race with the hills and the heat still to come---47 minutes was our 10-K time!
We tried to slow to something deliberate, and had backed off into eight-minute miles with the first hills of any consequences as we went through row hose neighborhoods of heavy ethnicity-Mexican flags were flying and shouts in different languages followed us. The crowd support was superb---these people had not had a marathon come by in thirty-five years! And Joe attracted most of the comments-including those of the prettiest girls on the course. "It is an honor and pleasure to be running with you, Sir!" I had said. We used the Big John Henry shorthand "Hey now!" when a very good-looking chick was addressing him, and he would respond in kind.
When we got to the Ten Mile marker, we had cut under eighty-four minutes. Now we hit the real hills. They were repeatedly rolling and very hard. The sun came up high overhead. I had loaned Joe my sunglasses, which fit him well, and it was a good thing he wore them. I wore my Boston Marathon cap instead. WE were grunting along, still well within pace. I shot a couple of Photoworks Photos of Joe on the run, and a couple of old Gonzaga classmates came by. I took their pictures as well. His Honor the Mayor did not appear on the run, although I understand that he was on the starting reviewing stand.
WE HIT THE HALF, AND THE HILLS KEEP ON COMING
We cut under 1:50 going across the half waypoint at 13.1 miles. I recognized a few MCRRC at this point, and only a few were on the course, coming up on us from behind. AT one point, I was definitely puling Joe up the hills, but I said it would not be too long that he would have to carry me along and the tension on the string would have to reverse. AS the sun got hotter and I got wearier, that time came in the second half. I slowed us down at each water stop for us to pound down water and Gatorade, which was a good idea, since the day was getting much hotter and a lot of former runners were walking. JOE AND I WLAKED NEVER A SINGLE STEP OF THE 26.2 MILE WAY!
The hills had me panting, but then we had a reprieve in a quiet shady street around Druid Hill Park, where overarching trees shaded us, and when we curved into the parkway, a bit of a breeze kicked up, enough to keep us out of the walkers' lane. One woman at a water stop looked over at me, and asked, "Now, why does a visually impaired runner have to take up the extra burden of pulling you up the hills?" I thanked her for her attention, and pointed out that it would have to be either Joe or her who would have to carry me in the last half of this race.
Some pleasant black folk outside a black church were singing spirituals-I loved it. They handed us vanilla wafers. I needed that, even though it was hared to breathe and snarf the cookies up at the same time.
THE HOME STRETCH
For about two miles before we saw the 22-mile point, Joe was hauling me, encouraging me in the same way he talks to himself-"Come on Automatron!" I had once corrected him to say that the word was "Automaton" or he could make an appeal for Metronome precision-but he likes the sound of the word, and I tried to adapt the zombioid pattern. We cranked out a few and then saw the PSI Net Stadium looming in the distance. WE would circle it at about the 25-mile point, and then start the sprint around the circle to definitely pull out into a kick when we passed the hidden 26-mile marker. There the crowd thickened up, and I pulled the string up high, and hammered it home. We were on a flying sprint as I held up the "V-sign" with my right hand and Joe's arm with my left as we streaked across the finish line mats for the chirping of both of our Champion Chips-as cameras flashed at us and people cheered for us by name.
THE FINISHERS' MEDAL
AND AN EVEN BETTER FINISHERS' MASSAGE
We were wrapped in the Mylar blankets and led through the line where we both drank a couple of liters, and before getting too much more food stock, which they could put in a plastic bag someone handed to each of u s, I went right to the e massage tent. When I had turned off the engine at the finish line, the left pyriformis cramped up and squeezed off the sciatic so my foot and leg were numb after they had been painful. WSE did not get generalized cramps, largely because we had sucked up lots of water on the course along with enough sports drinks to keep us from being electrolyte basket cases.
After a brief wait for the forty-eight massage tables, I go Joe over to one where a fellow worked him over as though he had all the time in the world. I got my own massage at the same time on the lower extremities, and the coach had stretched out the muscle on the left so that it felt almost normal by the time I got up and walking about again. I got Joe a few bananas, oranges, and even-piece de resistance---and best only after we had hydrated to excess, some spicy grilled shrimp from Out Back Steakhouse. WE then exited the runners' area and a mat is across the exit so that they can hear if the runner still has a chip on his shoe. I took Joe's off-and since I own mine, I left mine on. There were many runners down who were being carried away, and a number of them were standing around the stadium recovering. I met the pair of fellows from Baltimore including the minister who had run the Antarctic Marathon with me. We had run within a few blocks of his church. He wants to see me in Boston this coming year. He had said he had heard a lot of complaints about the hills, but he had loved it-especially since this was one marathon on Saturday, so he could make it! (The PSI Net Stadium is needed on Sunday for the Baltimore Ravens Games!)
NOW, TWO URGENCIES THAT PROBALBY MADE IT BETTER FOR US BY KEEPING US WALKING AFTER THE RACE
We tried to find my Bronco, or even the lot we had used coming in. I had headed instinctively where I thought it should have been, but police who told us it was on the other side of the stadium turned us around. When we got there, two more policewomen radioed in and turned us 180* again, since I knew the lot was un-numbered, but was beyond Lots F. G, and H. But, between us was a railroad track, and we had to climb over a fence to get to it. Joe had another urgency-or actually two. AT least we could go to a secluded place and take care of both, but that did not find our vehicle. Finally I parked him under the overhead expressway, and furnished him with the Wash 'n Dries I still had in my pocket from Lufthansa, and his plastic bag filled with noshables and a couple of water bottles, and I RAN to where I thought my Bronco should have been.
This is what I should have done to begin with, since the running and long walking had prevented our getting stiffened up, which would have been very painful if we had got directly to the vehicle. I felt better after running a half a mile, loosening up in the course of the shuffle, and I no longer had the plastic bag of tricks pulling into my fingers with a couple of water bottles in it. I found my Bronco right where I had headed originally, and we never did figure out how we got over some overpass to the start of the race, bypassing the railroad tracks that had separated us from the stadium. I collected the Bronco, and drove back to pick up Joe after lending a hand in the major cleanup he had needed after his several stops without facilities. WE at least can claim to have hydrated well. My guess is that we were still about eight pounds down for each.
So, I drove home after Joe had called Betty to report our success. He then fell sound asleep, as I tried to weave my way along the 75 mph I-95 to arrive in Bethesda in time for a rapid dash on Joe's part to solve the urgency he was having since the run. As Joe got cleaned up, I did later, and then lay down on the couch to space out for the shorter time we had remaining until he could get himself and the kids ready for our big night out at the Boston Market.
I am going to miss Joe tugging on the other end of the string at this weekend's
Marine Corps Marathon. It won't be the same without him, and I am more comfortable
pacing each other in this rather intimate run-I hope we get together again soon-and
Joe is considering the MITP a month away. Two in a month is reasonable. Two
in a week is against all medical advice!