Portland, October 9, 2005

And what a wonderful weekend it was. We arrived late Friday afternoon and after visiting with Jill’s grandfather for a short time, Bill drove me into downtown Portland and I checked in to the hotel. I was asleep by the usual hour of 10. I woke up a little later than usual, but by 7, I was already starting to feel the pre-race excitement building and thought that a little more caffeine and some sugar would certainly not be inappropriate for such an exciting weekend, so I left the hotel and went looking for a good cup of coffee.

In downtown Portland, there are more Starbuck’s stores than there are parking places! And so it wasn’t long before I had large latte in one hand and a pastry in the other. Then I decided that it was time for some exercise and a tour of the starting area. So I walked over a few blocks and watched as work crews began erecting tents and placing barriers at the start/finish line area, and they were almost through with the placing of the hundreds of bright blue portable toilets that would line both sides of 4th Avenue.

As long as I was up and certainly awake, I figured that a short walk around the downtown area would be in order, so I left the crews to finish their work and headed downhill towards Chinatown. And as I crossed Morrison, I made a mistake. My toe caught the slight curb at the handicapped ramp and down I went. Hard. I put my hands out and that kept my face from being planted into the concrete but it didn’t save my left knee from smacking the edge of the curb. And as I fell, in slow motion; I was actually thinking of all the hours of training that I had put into this marathon and would it all end right here, sprawled on a Portland sidewalk?

I got up slowly and made certain that nothing was broken. Then I retrieved my hotel room keys; they had flown out of my pocket when I hit the sidewalk and had gone about 10’. My knee hurt, but it wasn’t broken so I decided to try a little walking, just to make sure that it didn’t stiffen up.

After a block or two, the knee started to hurt a little less and so I decided to keep going and eventually I walked about 5 miles. All during this time, my mood was going from one extreme to the other. Would I be able to walk at all on Sunday? I couldn’t come this far and not compete; but how far and how fast?

By the time I arrived back at the hotel, the pain was almost gone and my mood was on the positive side. But all during the day and into the evening, I felt every little twinge and worried about it.

Jill joined me that afternoon and we went to a local restaurant for the obligatory carb loading dinner of pasta. All quite good. Then Jill suggested that I ice the knee and take some Aleve to combat the inflammation. I kept the ice on it for about 20 minutes and then it was numb. And numb was certainly better than how it felt earlier. Now it was time for bed…and prayers that it would be better in the morning.

Sunday morning came quickly and we were awake at 5. Excited. The day we had trained for had arrived. My knee was sore to the touch, but I seemed to be able to walk smoothly and without any discernible limping. Maybe? We headed downstairs and joined the crowds that were heading toward the starting area. It was 6:15 and still quite dark. After a quick stop for Jill to grab a scone and coffee we immersed ourselves in the crowd and made our way, slowly, into the 14/15 minute mile pace group.

There are large signs in the street with minute per mile pace numbers on them and the idea is to group yourself with those who walk at a similar pace. This ensures that the start will be somewhat orderly and the faster runners and walkers won’t have to stumble over the slower ones.

We were in the middle of the street now, surrounded by the crowd. A crowd of 13,000 people, all ready for the 7 AM start. Excited? You bet! And at 7, we heard a cheer from the front of the crowd. The race had started!

There were so many people ahead of us that it would be almost 10 minutes later before we would cross that same starting line; but since your actual starting time is automatically recorded on the “chip” you have strapped to your shoe when you cross the electronic starting mat, all is well.

I’m tall enough so that I could enjoy the sight of the thousands of runners ahead of us, moving quickly down the street. Jill wasn’t as fortunate and had to content herself with my description of the scene. But, after a few more minutes, the crowd began to loosen up a little and we began to walk a little faster. After about a quarter mile, we passed a group of drummers who were beating out a rapid bass rhythm that echoed among the tall buildings. That really got us moving! By the time we reached the China Gate we were up to 4.7 mph and I told Jill I thought it would be wise to slow down a little; after all, we still had about 25 miles to go!

The miles seemed to pass slowly at first and by the time we reached 6 miles, it really seemed much slower than normal, yet the clock times were showing us that we were the 13 minute/mile range? Volunteers call out the gun time elapsed minutes at each mile so that you can get an idea of how you are doing. We were doing fine; it just didn’t seem very fast.

We picked up water and sports drink at each water station, just a sip or two and no more, as there are plenty of these aid stations along the route. And around the 12 mile mark, we were handed a Marathon candy bar…now that became the highlight of that portion of the race! Best candy bar I ever ate. And the miles kept coming, but still slowly; or so it seemed.

All during the first half of the race, we stayed among the same general group of walkers and that was fine with us. But, at mile 16 that would change. I had told Jill about the hill leading to the St. John’s Bridge and we both knew that we could really “shine” on this portion. And up the hill we went, our pace never slacking. We passed people all the way up that hill and over the crest of the bridge. Then a quick downhill where we jogged. Then it was relatively flat as we walked along the bluffs above the Willamette River. And again we were passing more and more people, while the miles seemed to pass ever more quickly. According to our rough calculations we were still close to a 13 minute/mile pace after 20 miles. And we both knew that we would finish the race. After all, we only had 6 miles left.

And my knee? Well, after the first 4 miles, it had become pain free. Oh, I knew it was still injured but it wasn’t bothering me anymore. And it remained that way for the entire race.

Finally, we saw the entrance to the Steel Bridge and on the other side of that are the last 3 miles. We continued our pattern of passing people, Jill to the right and me to the left. One mile to go and then a half mile. Jill was really excited now as the end was near and she urged me to follow her in a run for the finish. Somehow, I was able to do that and I ran for the last 3 blocks. What a feeling! I heard them call out Jill’s name as she crossed the line and 24 seconds later my name was called out as well.

We made our way through the crowds and had our timing chips removed and received our medals. A real thrill! This is what it’s all about…it’s not about how fast or how many people you beat to get here, it’s the fact that you finished and are being recognized for that fact.

My time? It was fantastic! My time in 2001, when I was only 61 years old, was 6:17:48. This time it was 5:56:34! And we had maintained a 13.35 minute/mile average, far above what I had expected us to do. Thanks, Jill!

Now what will I do with this blog? It’s supposed to be about my second Portland marathon. I am certain that there will be a third, so I will keep it around. And there is already some discussion about the Phoenix Rock and Roll marathon, the Catalina marathon and even the Fargo, ND marathon in May! Why not? I’ve never been to Fargo before…