Discouraged, I decided to keep my focus on shorter distance, so when I
toed the starting line near the Metrodome the following fall, it was for the 10
mile race.
I still remember that day – it was gorgeous. Somewhere around the 5
mile mark, my buddy Trent noticed that the faceplate of his new fancy running
watch had fallen off. We told his wife Tracy to soldier on without us and Trent
and I backtracked in search of a 2 inch by 2 inch black object. We never did find the missing faceplate, and
after at least ½ mile of running backward, and more than a couple increasingly
annoying “you are going the wrong way” comments, we turned around. Trent was
ticked and I was feeling great, so we decided to drop the hammer. We flew past hundreds
of runners, especially on the many inclines, and caught up to Tracy right
before the finish.
As is the case with many runners, a frosty beverage sounded like a good
reward for the weeks of training and a race well run. We drove back to an open
spot just before Mile 24 of the upcoming marathon, and carried a smaller cooler
and boombox full of Rocky music out to a nice grassy patch. We cheered on the
marathon runners until the final one had passed us by. We were amazed at how
many made a point to thank us for being out there. We were also amazed at the
number of people who asked us for a sip of our beer – pressing the can to their
lips before handing it back to us. And with that, a tradition was born.
Every year, a group of us meet up at Mile 23.9 to cheer on the marathon
runners. Sometimes we run the 10 mile race beforehand; sometimes we don’t. Here
is a report from the 2013 edition of the Twin Cities Marathon.
8:00am – My alarm clock sounds. It would be nice to sleep in some more
but not this day. Today, I am needed.
8:02 – I find that my wife has a full pot of coffee waiting for me. She rocks. She is also pretty hot, but that is not relevant to this report.
9:30 – We leave home with a mini-van packed down with essentials... A
full sound system, a couple coolers full of beer, and several dozen of my
wife’s homemade monster cookies.
9:40 – We stop at Target for the remaining necessities…Jolly Ranchers
and Tootsie Rolls, 5 ounce Dixie cups, a jumbo umbrella, and several gallons of
water.
10:15 – Everything is unloaded at mile 23.9 and we are beginning to get
setup. My folks are out for their first Mile 23.9 experience and seem unsure
what to expect. The lead runners are beginning to fly by, but that is okay, we
really aren’t here to support than anyway.
10:16 – Residents who live on the other side of the street come over to
tell us they will call the cops if we play our music too loud as we are simply
“noise polluters.” They shake their finger at us in a menacing fashion. We
promise to keep the music to a reasonable level and go about our business of
preparing to help 10,000 people reach the finish line. They go about their
business of scowling at the evil that has taken over their street before
quickly retreating into their mansion.
10:30 – The music is pumping, with the Black Eyed Peas “I’ve Got a
Feeling” getting the nod as our opener.
10:45 – Other members of our cheering section arrive – a former student
and his wife, sister, and best friend. Marathons bring families together, and
they are much cheaper than counseling and more fun than family reunions.
11:00 – Another 15 friends and family members have arrived and are
putting their hands together and cheering for the runners. Presumably the
mansion dwellers are getting nervous by our growing numbers. In fact, they
probably think that marathon day is kind of like the recent box office hit,
“The Purge,” and are expecting us to attack at any moment.
11:15 – One of the younger folks decides the runners may be thirsty and
volunteers to take over beer-pouring duties. His belief is correct and soon
thereafter our station becomes very popular.
11:30 – It is drizzling on and off, and I am thankful for the newly
acquired $19.99 jumbo umbrella which is now protecting my sound system. Great
purchase, I tell myself with a bit of pride.
11:45 – A guy wearing a headband, midriff-exposing t-shirt, and cut-off
jorts (that is jean shorts for you non-hip folks) runs into our station. After
he grabs his third Dixie cup of Corona, I wonder if we will need to cut him
off. But after pounding it in record fashion, he runs off - on pace to finish
30 minutes faster than I ever did while wearing proper running shorts and properly
hydrating with water and Gatorade. I decide that if I ever run another
marathon, I will wear jorts. And then I remember how badly I tend to chafe, and
I decide that wearing jorts would be as silly as, perhaps, running in a
Chewbacca costume.
11:50 – My brother is holding my almost three-year old nephew and they
are giving high-fives to the runners. The smile on my nephew’s face is sure to
shave 20 seconds off the finishing time of any runner who sees him.
12:05 – Our friend Sandra from church shows up. Sandra is running her
first marathon and is one of perhaps 100 runners that are running for the
organization World Vision. Sandra gives us a double thumbs up and runs off -
looking so happy that I secretly want to beat her.
12:09 – I turn off the music and announce to the crowd that it was four
hours and nine minutes into the Boston Marathon when the bombs went off. When I
say that the act of cowards cannot stop us, everyone begins to cheer. And I
crank up Toby Keith’s “Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue.”
12:15 – A runner hobbles into our station to grab some water, and I
recognize his limp. It is the limp of someone cramping up. Without warning, he
grabs at his calf and shrieks in pain, Dixie cup tumbling to the ground. My dad
is first to embrace the sweat-soaked man, and former student Mike is soon to
follow. The runner is in luck, as Mike is an elite athlete and is currently in
chiropractic school. Mike goes to work on his calf, and after a couple more
bouts of cramping and shrieking, his pain is gone. He leaves us for a minute to
go heave in the bushes and when he returns, Mike gives him a thorough
working-over – stretching, massaging, and pressure points. At that moment, I
can’t help but wonder what the mansion dwellers are doing to help humanity.
12:20 – Drizzle has turned to rain, but thankfully my brother brought a
canopy large enough to cover the West side of St. Paul, so we are set. And I
have Luke Bryan’s hit “Rain is a Good Thing” queued up and ready to rock.
12:30 – I play a Pitbull song and notice that most of the runners are
now dancing. I am unsure who this Pitbull person is – whether it is a guy, gal,
band, or simply an actual pit bull dog with a good voice. I also don’t much
care for Pitbull’s music, but today is not about me. I follow-up Pit-Bull with
ChumbaWumba, and I feel like I am back in the late 90’s.”I get knocked down,
but I get up again. Ain’t never gonna keep me down.”
12:35 – Our Rejuvenation Station is very popular right now. Many
runners cut across the entire road, nearly knocking others over, just to see
what we have to offer. Two female runners run by and one of them says to the
other, “They have beer.” So I grab my microphone and say, “Yes. We do have
beer.” And they turn around, extending their 26.2 mile race by an extra forty
feet or so.
12:50 – A man I do not recognize is standing across the road, sometimes
watching the runners but mostly just staring at us with his arms folded. We
send my dad over to investigate.
12:55 – My dad returns to say that the man is another neighbor, but is
very impressed by our spirit. He will no longer get an invitation to the
mansion dwellers’ holiday party. I am actually guessing that the mansion
dwellers do not have a holiday party as people having fun scares them.
1:10 – I notice that a few of my wife’s monster cookies are left, and
as I haven’t eaten anything yet today, I am tempted. By they are not for me –
at least not yet.
1:15 – No way! A runner in a full and very wet Chewbacca costume slowly
trots by. I am sure he/she is miserable, but in 2.3 miles, his/her race will be
over. And he/she will be able to say that he ran a marathon in a full Chewbacca
costumer. Bragging rights forever.
1:20 – A runner juggling several balls comes into sight. He does this
every year, and he never ceases to amaze me. I am tempted to ask him if he can
one-up himself next year by juggling while wearing a Chewbacca costume with
jorts underneath, but decide against it.
1:30 – The folks coming through now are on pace to finish the marathon
in a time of about 6 hours. My slowest finish was a bit over 5 hours, and I
can’t imagine being out there for another hour.
1:45 – The sweep bus, official race SUV’s, and a couple police cars
slowly drive by. The marathon is over. A few runners have fallen behind them,
but they are now moved off the road and must run on the sidewalk to make room
for traffic.
2:00 – We have cleaned-up our area, including hundreds of used Dixie
Cups and empty Jolly Rancher and Tootsie Roll wrappers. The mini-van is packed,
and a bit lighter, for the drive home.
2:10 – We are driving home and there are about eight monster cookies
left in the basket on my wife’s lap. She hands me one, then another, and then
one more. I decide that the runners should be happy I didn’t get into these
earlier.
3:00 – I am taking a nap, but you probably don’t care about that.
6:30 – My son and I take our dog for a walk. Not surprisingly, I have
an extra spring in my step. As we near home, it begins to rain, and the three
of us break into a slow jog…and it feels good.
And with that, another marathon and Mile 23.9 Rejuvenation Station are
in the books. Congrats to all runners!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B_ALFW22WU8&feature=youtu.be
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B_ALFW22WU8&feature=youtu.be
