Over the weekend, I "competed" in the 2009 Country Music Marathon. I ran alongside my brother-in-law, Heath, who flew in just for the race, and my good friend Christine with whom I had been training for a the past several months. It was a very emotional experience. One that I now understand I had entirely underestimated.
Going into the race, 10 miles was the furthest I had ventured in one consecutive run. I used Hal Higdon's, a brilliant man, training schedule, and his reasoning for only running up to 10 before race day was "the inspiration will carry you to the finish line." Little did I know how true this would be.
There was not too much out of the ordinary on Saturday. The only potential issue besides the 13.1 mile course was the fact that it was to be the hottest day of the year. A stifling 85 for the high...and in a city where all who had been training were accustomed to much milder weather over the last several months, it was becoming a big deal. I did not heed much of a warning concerning the weather - I had been hot before - and I survived that.
35,000 people ran on Saturday. It was the biggest year for the event thus far. At one point people were asked to shout where they had come from: Atlanta, Chicago, Dallas, San Fran. I think being a local in this race meant being a minority.
It was hosted by Elite Racing - a company with multiple marathons/half marathons across the country all with the common theme of music. Different cities with different themes obviously...and Nashville's was shockingly - Country.
I loved getting to set up in my corral - runners were released in waves as the race started and each corral held about 1,000 of us. This was to prevent congestion at certain points down the path. It was a massive undertaking and something about it felt Biblical to me - a diaspora. We were all about to embark together on a journey that would test us each individually. Every time I'd look to my left or right, it was a new person - struggling up the same path with a different stride and pace.
Unfortunately, I experienced some sort of incident right at the turn for mile 2, when something happened to my knee (still waiting to find out). I was in moderate pain at that point but kept pushing through thinking, man up and shake it off.
At mile 8 the pain grew unbearable and I had to stop. It was like trading in every minute I had been training for 3 months and getting nothing in return. I stopped at a Medical Station on Music Row for some Advil. It was strange stopping along the side and watching the herd travel on without me. Being used to running alone or with one person, when I stopped, everything stopped. However, everyone kept moving - and as I watched each person go by I envied their time. I knew their finishing time was going to be better than mine and it killed me. It wasn't fair to me that the 50 year old man or jiggly fat girl was going to post a better time on the half-marathon than me. I knew I had to make it happen. Git-r-done.
At this point, Christine was the only one left with me and I told her to keep running as I was in for a long finish. 5 miles left to go.
I can honestly say that the spectators pushed me through the finish line. Given the magnitude of the race (35,000 runners and an estimated 100,000 spectators along the course) and the fact that we were in Nashville - the spectators were everywhere and extra friendly. Initially, it was weird to have randos yelling for us to keep running but as time grew on, it was essential. The spectators included my parents, sister, and friend Michael who were stationed along the course - at a certain spot where we passed by twice. It was incredible to think that all of these people - the bands, the volunteers, the cheerleaders, the people of my city, and families from others were there for support. As time went on, each time someone yelled, "You're almost there" or "We're so proud of you" it was to ME.
The last 2 miles were hellish. People were visibly in pain. Myself included. Not only was much of it in a dry spell of spectators, it was uphill again. Any runner knows that the slightest hint of an incline can be one of the biggest mental challenges in training. Picture Lion King - Wildebeest(that is correct spelling boothe)-trampled Mufasa. That was my feeling.
Anyway, to make a much too long post a little longer, I eventualy finished. The race ended with people dropping like flies, out of heath exhaustion, general exhaustion, and just being out of breath. I remember counting 4 ambulances along the course as people succombed to the heat. Sadly, one 25 year old guy died after finishing the half-marathon. Reasons are still unknown but the gravity of his death was a sobering realization of the preparedness that is necessary for running 13.1 miles.
Currently I am awaiting an MRI to determine what is wrong with my knee, and what I will need to do to fix it.
