I had decided that staying over at my brother's house the night before the marathon was not a good idea. Plenty of times I've foolishly upset my normal routine before a race an inevitably, I end up paying for it. So once I found out there was free parking for the runners, appealing to my cheapassedness, I decided to stay at my in-laws' house, sleep in the same bed with my wife, the same room as my kids, and just deal with getting up and getting to the marathon in the morning.

I was so used to this whole routine that the morning went smooth. I had done all the marathon-eve silliness to get ready and flowed through my routine this morning like, what is it, something about a goose? Bad analogy. Let's move on.

The streets were deserted and I had no trouble getting to the race. I stopped at a local AM/PM to get a small cup of coffee and as I entered, I suddenly became very aware that I was wearing my full marathon regalia, to include the number pinned on the front of my shirt. I was more than a little self-conscious about it, not wanting to appear to be showing off and I was glad there were not too many people in the store at that early hour.

When I came up to the front of the store to pay, there were about 4 teenage kids behind the counter watching some kind of show on a small portable TV. One looked up at me as I approached and took me in with her eyes.

I know she was just being nice but you know me and my mood before a marathon. I just knew she was going to say something and at the time, I was convinced it would be something stupid. I was not long waiting.

How desperately I wanted to answer:

I know, I know, harsh. But maybe the "Seafair Marathon" plastered all over the running bib should have been a clue.

I KNOW, I KNOW, she was just being polite and pointing out the obvious.

That's why I suppressed my tendency to have NO patience with people on marathon morning and simply answered with a modest mousey "Yes."

I drove to the parking area and found my way to the main lobby of the Marriott, where the free parking was. There were a few others in marathon garb wandering around so I knew I was in the right spot and did what all marathoners do at this point before the race.

BATHROOM!!!!

I must say, in my 12 previous marathons, never have I been so spoiled. The bathroom was all in tiled marble with gold fixtures and towel-warming racks.

It was weird to enjoy such lush accommodations before a marathon when you are used to Port-a-Potties and I couldn't help but feel some kind of humorous irony that I was using such high-end facilities before the race.
Thanks, Marriott! And as a token of my appreciation....

I knew no one at the race. No one single person. Even if someone I used to know was there, I doubt if they would recognize me nor me them. It had just been too long and although I scanned the crowd, I had little faith that I would recognize anyone. So I stretched and listened to my MP3s for the hour before the marathon, wondering how this day would unfold.

I did see Miss Seafair, though. Not that I would have recognized her because I had only seen a picture of her in the marathon packet and today she had on jeans and a polo shirt. So how did I pick her out? Maybe it was the sash that announced "MISS SEAFAIR" and the rather large bodyguard following her around. Yes, blue jeans and a sash plus crown is quite a look.

The weather was nice. It was cool and clear but devoid of any humidity which I prayed would continue throughout the run.

Right before they started herding us toward the start line, I felt the familiar need to use the bathroom once more but looking at the toilets, the line was spectacular. With 17 minutes until the start, I knew there was no way I was going to make it through the line so once again, I traded comfort for well-hydrated. I lloked like Forrest Gump at the White House.

I started the race feeling really good. I bought a little clip-on pack to carry my Gu and my MP3 player clipped onto my shorts also. I didn't want to deal with a running pack this race, leaving my waistline free, and thought that the course would provide the hydration I needed at the water stops.

This would prove to be a bad assumption.

The hills were a small factor but not as much as I thought they were going to be at first. As I wound my way through the city of Bellevue, I was pleased to see that I was making good progress and pain was at a minimum, especially after the first stop at the port-a-potty. Now I could RUN like Forrest Gump instead of hop around like him.

At mile 10, it was time to take my second Gu. But I had passed a water station a mile back and realized at this point in the race that the water stops were not all that great. I don't mean to insult the organizers, it's just for my personal needs (read: unimportant to the field at large), the water stops were not where I needed them.

So I did something I had never done before (which is, BTW, the worst lead-in sentence to any part of a marathon story); I ate a Gu packet without water.

I've described swallowing Gu as "swallowing someone else's lugie". And THAT'S with water to help it down. Now imagine trying to do so without the aid of water. It was a lot like swallowing superglue. Or maybe a mouthful of crackers with a bone-dry mouth.

I was gagging and actually consciously using my neck muscles to force it down my throat. It was utterly disgusting but I finally gagged it down but that would be the last time I ever try that again. EVER!

At the halfway mark, I was just under 2 hours AGAIN and AGAIN, I entertained the hope that I could still bust 4 hours on this marathon. Oh sweet, sweet hope.

As the day wore on, the temperature started to climb a bit and the humidity kept pace. The hills were becoming a little more challenging but I kept a positive outlook and kept trudging along the course.

At the 15 mile mark, everything fell to pieces. Here's what happened.

The course transitioned to a park trail about a mile long, the only portion of the course NOT on city streets. The effect this had was that it was a tree-lined path and the wind, which was the only thing keeping the temperature at bay, went away.

If it was only this, it wouldn't have been but an inconvenience. But the path also went UPHILL.

Still not cause for alarm? Agreed.

But then without warning, I felt all the energy just drain out of my body. I had felt this before in training and I knew that my blood-sugar level had just officially plummeted.

If I was a novice, I'd be really scared at this point. I had no energy and it felt like there was no way in ten Hells that I was going to be able to go 11 more miles feeling like this. And in fact, there would be no way. But I knew that energy ebbs and flows in a marathon and just because you are exhausted during the race, that doesn't mean you will stay that way.

But at this point, I was in trouble. I was feeling the effects of the heat because the trees blocked the wind. Plus, I was going uphill and I had somehow lost all my blood sugar to keep me going. From training, I knew what I needed and that was a Gu. I blame myself because there was a water station at mile 14 and I didn't take the Gu, knowing the stations were at least 3 miles apart. I had the Gu in my hand but even though I was desperate, I had recently learned that I could not choke down a Gu without water.

In the official marathon lexicon, I was screwed.

I trudged up the path, miserable, and had to walk a lot of it. I figured I lost about 20 minutes on this portion and I was not happy about it. I had my relief RIGHT IN MY HAND with no way of swallowing it. This taught me that I will ALWAYS bring a water bottle no matter what for now on. Idiot!

When I emerged from the path, I was dizzy and disillusioned. I knew I had just blown my sub-4 marathon and there was no consoling me. But quitting was never a consideration and I knew I still had a lot of hard miles ahead of me so I put it behind me and was glad to see a water stop about a mile out of the covered path. I drank 3 cups of water and 3 cups of sports drink, my body soaking it up as it hit my stomach. I slammed the Gu with the last cupful of water and when I brought it down, I simultaneously crushed the cup and thrust my eyes at the course.

I was ready to run again, dammit.

My body was really hurting but I could run again. I could feel the Gu and the sports drink move through my system like medicine while my energy level gained momentum. Now that I had this problem solved, another one hit me just as quick.

I was starving.

I mean like “give me ANYTHING edible and I will put it in my mouth" starving. And the “edible” requirement was negotiable.

I dreamed of candy. Handfuls of M&Ms. Mouthfuls lemon drops. Soup. Cookies. Oh God, cupcakes. Anything. I’m hungry. Give me food, pleeeeease.

I remembered that up to this point, there was no food offered so my heart sank. What I would give for a full turkey dinner and….

Red Bull?

The cardinal rule of all marathon cardinal rules is repeated over and over and over. Almost as many times as it’s broke: NEVER TRY ANYTHING NEW ON THE COURSE THAT YOU HAVEN’T TRAINED WITH.

It’s simple really. A rather short decision flow chart:

Did I train with this?

Not only had I never trained with Red Bull before, I had never even TRIED Red Bull IN MY LIFE!! I actually thought it was like a V8 because of the name and had heard rumblings about it in the marathoning background. Energy drink, give you wings, yadda yadda, yadda.

Coming around a corner thinking about a big turkey dinner, I saw a huge inflatable Red Bull can tied down like a Macy’s float. Like I said above, at this point, I would have eaten my own shoe (with my foot still in it) and the thought of drinking an “energy drink” that “gave me wings” sounded pretty damn good about now.

They had skimpy-clad “Red Bull” girls with huge platters (let me finish!!!) of ice cold cans of Red Bull. Ice cold. Because of my depleted state, the girls had all the sexual appeal of Mother Teresa at the time and I thrust a shaking hand out to get a can. Of Red bull (would you STOP!).

The thought did momentarily pop up that maybe this wasn’t a great idea but that lasted about as long as it took to grab the can and pull it to my mouth. I took a tentative sip, expecting a tomatoey taste but when I realized it tasted citric, like Mountain Dew, it was on. I drank it all in two more gulps.

No immediate effect but it quelled my famished hunger and I moved on.

A mile down the road was a fruit stand. Why they had nothing for miles and then a water stop, a Red Bull stop, and a fruit stop all a mile apart, I don’t know. But I wasn’t complaining because all of the sudden, fruit sounded like the food of the gods.

They had cut melons into square pieces and filled Dixie cups with them and after one attempt at dribbling some in my mouth, I just dumped the whole thing in my hand and started shoveling like some animal. As I kept running, I grabbed a banana and an apple with my newly sticky hands. Yes, folks, I was quite a sight.

I slowed down to eat the banana, all except the last little bit that I dropped, slapped up into the air, fumbled, batted, and eventually dropped on the ground. Shit! Oh well, I still had the apple which I ate on the run.

So just in case you weren’t keeping track, I had a melt down, then was saved by 3 cups of water, 3 cups of sports drink, a Gu, a Red Bull, a cup of fruit, a banana, and an apple.

Needless to say, I had a surge of energy. I think the Red Bull had a lot to do with it but since I had so many items in such a short period of time, I can’t really pinpoint what gave me the big boost. But I was rolling once again.

I really, really hoped that there was going to be another Red Bull stop on the course but there wasn’t. Actually, I wished there were one every mile and if I would have known how much it helped, I would have grabbed another one and carried it with me.

And I needed it because despite the big boost I got, at about the 22 mile mark, life got ugly. It always does. Only two times in my running career has mile 22 to 26 NOT seemed like the 7th Ring of Hell. Those two times were when I ran my 50 mile races and mile 22 wasn’t even the halfway point. All other races, all 12 other marathons, no matter what shape I’m in, it SU-HUCKS at that point!!!

I kept telling myself “This is where you show your true colors. This is what you train for. This is where you find out if you run with the Kenyans or run with some guy named Ken. This is where…”

WOULD YOU SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH!!!

(Ut-oh, I was hoping this wouldn’t come out but yes, there was a rather loud argument between mind and body at this point.)

It gets a lot uglier but I will just stop there. Suffice it to say, it’s tough to run with all that volume going on in your head.

Here is what I came up with to shut those voices down.

At that point, all the voices got real quiet and I had about 2 miles left.

In only one other race was there anyone waiting for me at the end. Ironically it was my sub-4 in Monterey but this day was different. I knew my wife and kids would be there at the finish line and there was rumor from the family that others might show up. I thought about them in the quiet solitude of the post- argument and it gave me the strength I needed to finish the race.

As I came down the chute, I heard my name called and looking over, I saw Jeff, my brother-in-law, with his very pregnant wife, holding up one of his sons. I saw Scott, my other brother-in-law with his wife, my nephew and niece… all waving, cheering. I saw my wife smiling, my two kids holding up signs.

Do you know how hard it is to run the last .2 miles of a marathon with tears in your eyes?

Internally, I facetiously asked if there were any other arguments of why I run these things. The silence continued.

I crossed the line with an official time of 4:23:33 and a pace of 10:04 per mile. Overall, I came in 47th out of 61 men between the age of 35-39.

We walked around a little bit (OK, I wobbled) and we decided to get something to eat. I blame the following on my wife because in my depleted state, I probably would have agreed to anything, even sushi(t). We decided we should join Scott and his family at Chipotle and since it was within the city (meaning nice and quick), I agreed to it. Of course I was a lot like Rain Man at the time so it's not too surprising.

For the second time today I found myself in full marathon regalia, this time in the sweaty version, inside a public place. I think I might have been the only marathoner in there so of course I stood out a bit. I walked like an old man and maybe the bib and the medal gave me away, too.

I wanted something simple so Carrie ordered me three tacos. Seemed innocent enough. Until it came and the meat was a bit more spicy than I had thought.

Crap.

But did this stop me from eating all three? Oh, no, that would require intelligence and I just made sure the burning sensation flowed all the way down my throat and settled in my weakened stomach.

This might win the title as the dumbest thing I have ever done.

By the time I got home, hobbled upstairs in the most comical situation imaginable (if you saw the steepness of my in-laws’ staircase to the upper portion of the house, you’d understand), took a shower that bordered on pure Nirvana, and flopped on the bed, I thought I might sleep the entire night away.

But an hour later, I had enough of the pain and heat emanating from my legs. It was obvious my body was not going to forgive me for the little taco incident and I was left to suffer through a conscious state for the rest of the night.

But I finished.

#13 in the books.

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