Well, if you were to know my surname, and put it into the Big Sur "finish times" calculator.........nothing would come up.
I hope that I can post something longer and perhaps more "upbeat" about the day. There were some funny stories. The day was lovely, but enormously humid (fellow asthmatics, that means five attacks along the way...not so great).......a little sprinkle of rain, but not much.......bands, great volunteers.........met Chris from this board (and her friend) from Michigan at the sweats truck, carried lots of "talismen" from friends, including North and RNR Girl...........these really are good things.
Coming down off "Hurricane Point", around mile 13, and feeling something "go" about a hand's breadth above my knee, on the inside -- sort of a sproing/knot feeling, this is not so good. Then not being able to run for longer than 2 minutes at a go without it seizing up, this is not good, either. Finally listening to H, who said at about mile 15 "Just walk, we are way ahead of time, we are going sub-5:00 and I think if we walk fast, we can still make it by 5:30."
..........At Mile 24, we were met by the course marshalls. They strip the bottom off your number, and ask you if you are getting in the van, or if you are finishing "by yourself." There is no way you can finish in time, and the road is opening.
I didn't get in the van. I probably should have.........
So, we came UP the last grade (this is not a very nice course), and then it was a slow downhill to the "finish." We almost made it. As we came down the last stretch, one of the volunteers looked up and realized that I (we, H with me) had "white" bibs (surrounded by the greens, blues and pinks of all the walkers), and shouted out "just get ahead of that truck, it's the sweep truck."
So I "ran" (as fast as I could) for the truck. And the truck driver saw us in his rear view mirror, and his brake lights came on. And we passed it. And we came down the last straightaway, through the milling crowds (no more barriers), and we passed under the arch, just as they ripped the velcro "FINISH" down, over our heads. The clock, which was still up, said 5:35. And the man, boxing up the medals, took out 2, and handed them to us. I kissed him. They even unpacked the camera and took our photo at the "Finisher" stand.
So, that is the story of my first (last?) marathon........and I am very very emotional, and very sad, and strangely upset at how "5 minutes" can make one feel.
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