I appreciate the compliments. I know some runners complain about running snobs, but I haven't seen much of that in the runDisney community. Fortunately, I've found here that the fast runners are more than happy to encourage those of us in the back of the pack to keep pressing forward. Which as it turns out is a great segue into the rest of my 2011 race report.
As I began to realize just how much pain I was in, I understood one thing. I would not be running this race. And yes, the distinct thought of quitting entered my mind. It's still early in the morning. I'm still very tired. And obviously there is no way I'm even capable of running anymore today. At times like this, there are two options. You can go for the Homer Simpson method of "you tried your best and failed miserably. The lesson is never try." And what's wrong in this case with throwing in the towel? I wasn't sure if I could do this anyways. Now I know that I can't. So what's the big deal if I quit? All I really wanted was the medal. In some ways I viewed it as a unique Disney souvenir. Now, to be completely honest with you, if I had known that they might give me a medal anyways for showing up, I'm afraid I would have taken that in a heartbeat, collected the medal and gone back to my room to sleep for a bit before meeting up with my little sister.
So, do I follow the advice of Homer Simpson or do I look to my cinematic hero, who once said "Do or do not. There is no try"? What of the months I've put into training? What about the Saturdays I've spent training instead of doing just about anything else that would be more fun and not involve me being sore for the rest of the weekend? And what about those medal pics? For many of those long runs, when it began to be difficult, I managed to push myself by thinking of that medal. It is, perhaps, a silly motivation to run. I have learned since that there are far better reasons to run than earning a medal. But on this day, I just wanted that medal. And so I made my choice. I would slow down and walk this race. I. Will. Not. Quit. I will stay on this course until I either finish the race or they sweep me off the course because I'm too slow. I will meet my race destiny on my terms. I've trained at a 15 minute per mile pace. Maybe, just maybe it will be enough. But if it isn't then at least I know that I didn't quit.
So I slow down to a walk. At the first mile, they told us that we were 1 1/2 minutes ahead of pace. I wonder if I can sustain this pace. But at least the pain has subsided substantially. We go through California Adventure. I still remember seeing the elecTRONica performers throwing their discs down Hollywoodland. The entertainment along the course was nice. I didn't dare stop for anything before starting. I feel even more strongly that way now. If last place means I get the medal, that's good enough. As we go through Downtown Disney, I see an elderly lady seated in a wheelchair with a sign that says "Hello Total Stranger. I'm Proud Of You Too." It is difficult to express how moving I found that sign. Sometimes I wonder why that lady was at the race that day. Was she watching a family member? Did she used to run before time took that away from her and now gives back? Whatever her reasons, I remember that sign every time I run a race. But especially when going through Downtown Disney.
Now we're in Disneyland. This is really neat. I love seeing the parade floats stopped in the middle of Main Street where you stand right next to them and get a photo taken. Now, I can't actually do this because the priority is finishing. I would hate to ruin my goal because I stopped for some photos, even if they were really cool ones. I like seeing the train behind Small World and hearing the conductor pull the whistle. This is really cool stuff. Being backstage is neat too. Now, I'm seeing the paint shop and different ride vehicles. I even see my little sister briefly, but as she's much faster than me, she's gone in a hurry. And soon we're out of Disneyland and mile marker 4 is coming up. Huzzah, I've made it 4 miles. And nobody is trying to sweep me yet. But the next challenge is coming. A freeway overpass. Who puts a freeway overpass in the middle of a 1/2 marathon. That's a really tiny hill for crying out loud. I'm not ready for this. Not for the first time do I realize that running a 1/2 marathon is hard. But as thoughts of quitting creep into my mind again, I have another thought. "You've done harder things than this. You served a 2 year mission for your church in Russia." I entertain myself by thinking of long forgotten memories of a children's song from my youth of children singing as they walked and walked and walked and walked. And then another thought enters into my mind. Some of my ancestors were Mormon pioneers that crossed the plains as Brigham Young led them from Illinois to Utah. They did this every single day for months on end. So I have no right to complain. They endured much harsher conditions and suffered so much more than the near microscopic amount of pain I feel right now compared to what they went through. I've heard stories about the physical hardships they endured. The least I can do is experience a tiny bit of that myself. I certainly have even more love and respect for them now than I did before.
With many miles still ahead of me, I continue. I find that I really appreciate the different cultural groups along the course. The dancers with their brightly colored costumes showing off their heritage and culture to keep the minds of thousands of runners off of whatever pains they felt for a few moments. The Polynesian dancers doing the same. The marching bands and cheerleaders going crazy for a bunch of people they'll probably never meet, but giving us a boost just the same. Still no word on where I am in relation to the pace. But I can tell from each passing mile marker that I'm maintaining a roughly 15 minute per mile pace. The numbers on each passing mile marker get bigger even if they somehow seem further apart. And suddenly we come up on Angels Stadium. I'm really excited now. Someone told me that if you reached the stadium, you would finish. Maybe I'll pull this off yet.
As a little boy, I dreamed of being a major league baseball player. In fact for a while, my favorite team was the Angels because their star first baseman Wally Joyner was one of my sports heroes and attended BYU, the same school I dreamed of going to. Upon entering the stadium, I was overcome with a rush of adrenaline. The stands were filled with boy scouts and girl scouts cheering loudly. As I ran down the first base side, a few of them reached out for high fives and, upon seeing my shirt, said "go BYU!" This really got the adrenaline going. For a few brief moments, I actually felt like an elite athlete being cheered on by others. Little did I know that a childhood dream was now being fulfilled, albeit in a different way. I'm glad to say that while my plans of slowly savoring Angels Stadium were quickly thrown aside because of the adrenaline rush, I did take care to not push too hard. As we neared home plate, the public address announcer was calling out runners names and hometowns. While I did not hear my name, this was still a thrill. And before I knew it, Angels Stadium was in my rearview mirror.
Now, I believe that this is really happening. I really am going to finish the race. Soon I'm on Disney Way and the home stretch. As I pass the Disneyland Hotel, I hear some people cheering really loudly, but specifically for me. What is going on here? Aside from my little sister, I don't know anyone else down here. Nevertheless, I turn around and give a wave, thanking them. I will learn later that night that these people cheering for me were the parents and family of my little brother's good friend, so even though I don't know them well, they recognized me and cheered heartily. I appreciate it. Soon I near the finish line, and who should I see but the couple I'd talked with in line for Peter Pan's Flight the day before. I say hello to them and they tell me that it's only a matter of time before I'm signed up for another race. I'm not sure if I believe them on that front yet, but I know this now. They're not just being polite. I might actually be able to crawl from this point on and finish. I have no idea where I am in relation to pace. I've never heard that number since mile 1. As I come to the finish line, I raise my hands in triumph. I. Did. It. I pick up my medal, grab my post race refreshments, and eventually find my little sister. She finished a while ago. Later that night I would find out that I my finish time was 3:05. But most importantly I finished. In a strange way, the race met both my expectations. While my efforts to run ended in spectacular failure, I did finish.
And of course, the medal photo that I'd been thinking of during all those long training runs.
So what did I learn from my first race?
1. Trust your training. Run your race. In the lead up to the race, I got too caught up in my own adrenaline and fears and proceeded to run at a pace I was not capable of. Healthy competition can spur us on to better results. But in some ways, the only competition is against myself. I read an article recently where U.S. Olympic marathon qualifier Jared Ward was talking to high school runners about running. He said that as much as he would love to medal at the Olympic games, if he runs the best race of his life, he'll be happy with that regardless of how many runners finish ahead of him.
2. Do not quit. Especially when it gets really difficult. It would have been easy to drop out when my shins started hurting me. And that would have been a terrible decision. As I look back at the great memories from that race and all the things I've learned since that day, I nearly lost all of it because I wanted to quit. I know that if I had thrown in the towel on race day because I really hurt, I never would have signed up for another runDisney event again. And I would not have learned what I'm capable of as a runner. Now, I'm not saying to run when injured. In my case, the pain was my body telling me to change the plan and do this without getting injured. But just because something is hard, and running certainly is at times, doesn't mean it isn't worth doing.
3. Have fun. When you've put in the the hard work leading up to this moment, savor it. Be confident. Enjoy it. Ironically enough, my fastest finish time ever is still that 2011 Disneyland 1/2 Marathon. But it also remains the only race where I didn't stop for at least 2 pictures. My subsequent races have all been a lot more fun than that first. But none of that ever would have happened if I hadn't learned that I can run fast enough to make some short photo stops. And if you'll never be fast enough to stop for race photos, that's okay too. I believe the real measure of this experience is going through it, making the commitment to exercise, train, and do something even a little scary only to learn what you're capable of. I'll probably never be an elite runner. But I've learned that I'm a better person because of lessons learned from running.