The Story of My First Marathon

Age 14: I ink my name on a sign-up sheet. Best friend regards me as crazy. First practice would be in late June. Cross country here I come.

Age 14.2: I run my first race. 3 miles. I feel exhausted and want to throw up at the end. I walked when I was about 200 yards from finishing. I hear legends of people who marathon 26.2 miles and think 'no way in hell.' A seed is planted.

T-3 months: I run 6 miles on the regular, but I know I must devote one day a week to a longer length. The moment I registered was the moment of no return. My first long one: 8.

T-1 month: 18-miler this time, the result of building up 2 and 2 and 2 each Saturday. This time, my legs give up on me. Cramps in areas I've never before. I need to walk for blocks and blocks. My running partner motivates "how are you going to react when this hits you at mile 19 of the real thing?" before trailing away. So, I start up again but slow and with precaution. The goal of running the length of 26.2 without stopping or walking becomes unrealistic.

T-2 weeks: 22-miler and though I still walk at bouts of pain toward the tail of it, finishing those 22 do everything for my mentality. The Friday night preceding was sacrificed for sleep. The Saturday night proceeding sacrificed for recovery.

Mile 0: Ryan and I late for the start. Hasty bag drop so we could run to an abandoned starting line. We play catch up w/ the rest of the field.

Mile 4: DT Oakland and Temescal behind me. Oakland's hipsterville. Rockridge approaching where I know my family awaits me. I'm happily surprised to catch Camille and run w/ her for a mile or so.

Mile 5: Frances and Wally at their neighborhood. Wally w/ "Go Ian" sign.

Mile 5.5: Family at Rockridge BART gets me smiling. I point to Crepevine as I zoom past and say "Eat there! It's good!"

Mile 6: First timechip-check. I abandon my too-heavy sweaty Laker headband to Camille. Thank you so much Camille.

Mile 7: Hello Peezy. You cultured, beautiful bastard. Fittingly, we run through a neighborhood mirroring Peezies personality. Hilly Montclair aka White Oakland. I tell Mike my goal is to beat his time. Also, I need to pee.

Mile 10: "Go Mr. G!" First sign of a student as audience.

Mile 11: We catch the 4:10 pacers and blow past. Skyline is nearby. I tell Mike. Epic downhill with gorgeous views of the Bay. Mormon Temple flashes behind us quickly.

Mile 12: I pee and Mike gets me sunscreen. I heart Mike.

Mile 13.1: I voice "halfway home" to the strangers around me sharing in the marathon experience. We are in Fruitvale and though the faces of the neighborhood, both audience and buildings, have changed, the pride has not. These people love Oakland and they support it's marathoners with yells, pumped fists, signs, water, orange slices, high fives, and simple presence. Fruitvale at this point though, so... "si se puede!"

Mile 14: An ex-student Alex is passing out cups of beer to runners. He tries to give me one before realizing what was happening. LOL.

Mile 16: I run by a shopping center I recall passing by after a work day at Roosevelt and I think to myself: Oakland's been a part of me for awhile now and I'm happy I'm running it's marathon.

Mile 18: Taiko drummers, like all other music along the path, make the running inspired and easy.

Mile 19: Finally the end of the lenghty straightaway that was International and E 14th. I run into an ex-student jay-walking Oakland style, handing me a handshake and a "yo whattup Mr. G". Timechip-check and hey, it's Melissa Paulo!

Mile 20: I hear footsteps of several runners and look back. 4:10 pacers are approaching me. Before this, I had been pacing myself so I could have enough for the end. I want to look strong around the Lake and to the finish. 6.2 miles left. I decide it's time to let it happen.

Mile 21: I pass by McClymond's and am surprised it's included in the route. Memories of my teacher training summer come back. We're running all over Oakland.

Mile 22: Family again. West Oakland. Brother hands me Gu. Dad looks pumped. Ate & Archy taking pictures makin' me feel like a celeb. Ivan in his stroller.

Mile 23: Frances & Wally at the start of the Lake loop. Give Wally a high-five where I told myself simultaneously, I got this shit.

Mile 24: The 4th bird of war passes me up at a blistering pace. I get angry and want to catch her back. I start looking for mile markers. Each feels further and further away. The pains I felt during the 18 miler and 22 miler come back to my legs. My body wants to stop.

Mile 25: I still have the 4th bird in my field of vision and I've managed to keep her at the same distance, but she has sped up. Buildings of downtown are coming into view. The still gorgeous lake to my right. I'm just hanging on.

Mile 25.5: I feel like throwing up. Also, I feel like dying.

Mile 25.6: But I didn't stop. Never did. My mantra repeated over and over in my head at this point: "Leave Nothing."

Mile 26: I turn a corner and see a big sign "finish." I stare at it. I catch a cheering contingent in my peripherals but have no energy to give em at least a lil impression of a kobe fist-pump. I want to finish.

Mile 26.2: My journey is over and I am relieved. Not just b/c the 26.2 is over, but the sacrifice that was my training too. The clock says 4:08. I think, 'Ha Mike.. I beat your time.'

Post: I take photos w/ family and brunch like it's my graduation. And fittingly so. An accomplishment is behind me. This flavor of happiness only comes to one a few moments each lifetime.

Gracias para leyendo y el support.