25MAY09 "LA Marathon"
I awoke around 5am, rubbed the sleep from my eyes, brushed my teeth, did a final check on all of my necessities (Naked Juice bottle, water bottle, and some munchies) and headed out.
I drove around 80-85 for most of the way there, and noticed a Motorcycle coming up behind me. I quickly made room for it and watched as a CHP Officer sped by, booking at least 95.
Once I arrived at the LA convention center I grabbed my bag and headed out to find out just where exactly the starting line was at. As I left the garage I was greeted with a "Hey Dumbass!" by some guy offloading some stage gear for the day's WWE RAW event. I had thought all the roads closed so I did a quick check and started my walk across the street only to find a semi backing up toward me.
As I walked up the street after receiving directions from some official looking people, I marveled at how high the buildings reached, and absently pondered how many people could get taken out from a jar of pennies dropped from that high. As I continued my trek I was graced by the presence of not less than 5 homeless people, as well as some black chick across the street shouting obscenities at nothing.
After I had offloaded my bag and taken my place in the mass I did some final stretches and waited. The city had helicopters at every block monitoring the people, and planes flew all around with banners, while "I Love LA" by Randy Newman blasted from the speakers, with the crowd singing along. I dropped my shades down and turned on my ipod and zoned out, waiting for the race to start.
The mass began to move as one and I found myself trying to get around everyone. I ran a continuous 7 min/ mile pace for 12 miles, and then I began to limp. By mile 16 my calves had completely seized up, and anything more than limp-walking resulted in severe cramps. It was at this time that I began to realize that training for the Marathon the month prior wasn't good enough. I probably should have started the year before, sometime in the Fall, and I probably should have ran for more than 5 miles...(running on the treadmill gets real old, real fast.)
The course was lined with spectators, and indeed the numbers from last year had claimed that the event had over one million watching from the streets. Every mile or so there was water/ gatorade as well as the occasional bad-ass citizen that had taken the time to cut up some oranges for the masses.
The run ran through every ethnic neighborhood you could think of, and each one had its' own stlye of support. I enjoyed some Mariachi bands' music while running, as well as some hip-hop and live bands playing some 90's tunes. (I heard No Excuses by AIC, as well as Interstate Lovesong by STP)
Even though the entire run was filled with agonizing pain, it still had its moments that brought some smiles from me. A few:
1) The Indian man who pronounced "water" as "watherrrrrrr."
2) The people wearing capes/ costumes/ crowns.
3) The little old grannies that passed me up after my calves were shot.
Several of my blisters had popped by mile 25, and my feet were in horrible burning pain. As I was ready to take my walk down to a crawl, some dude ran up to my side, said a "fuckin aye, bro," and started walking with me. We started talking to one another and somehow motivated each other to run the last 1.2 miles to hit that beautiful 26.2 mile mark.
After the race we wished each other a speedy recovery and went our seperate ways. That last run had cost me, and my walk was now slowed down to what could be best described as "baby steps." I grabbed a water bottle/ banana/ almonds from some of the vendors and headed to pick up my bag as well as mentally prepare myself for the 3 mile walk back to my car.
I awoke around 5am, rubbed the sleep from my eyes, brushed my teeth, did a final check on all of my necessities (Naked Juice bottle, water bottle, and some munchies) and headed out.
I drove around 80-85 for most of the way there, and noticed a Motorcycle coming up behind me. I quickly made room for it and watched as a CHP Officer sped by, booking at least 95.
Once I arrived at the LA convention center I grabbed my bag and headed out to find out just where exactly the starting line was at. As I left the garage I was greeted with a "Hey Dumbass!" by some guy offloading some stage gear for the day's WWE RAW event. I had thought all the roads closed so I did a quick check and started my walk across the street only to find a semi backing up toward me.
As I walked up the street after receiving directions from some official looking people, I marveled at how high the buildings reached, and absently pondered how many people could get taken out from a jar of pennies dropped from that high. As I continued my trek I was graced by the presence of not less than 5 homeless people, as well as some black chick across the street shouting obscenities at nothing.
After I had offloaded my bag and taken my place in the mass I did some final stretches and waited. The city had helicopters at every block monitoring the people, and planes flew all around with banners, while "I Love LA" by Randy Newman blasted from the speakers, with the crowd singing along. I dropped my shades down and turned on my ipod and zoned out, waiting for the race to start.
The mass began to move as one and I found myself trying to get around everyone. I ran a continuous 7 min/ mile pace for 12 miles, and then I began to limp. By mile 16 my calves had completely seized up, and anything more than limp-walking resulted in severe cramps. It was at this time that I began to realize that training for the Marathon the month prior wasn't good enough. I probably should have started the year before, sometime in the Fall, and I probably should have ran for more than 5 miles...(running on the treadmill gets real old, real fast.)
The course was lined with spectators, and indeed the numbers from last year had claimed that the event had over one million watching from the streets. Every mile or so there was water/ gatorade as well as the occasional bad-ass citizen that had taken the time to cut up some oranges for the masses.
The run ran through every ethnic neighborhood you could think of, and each one had its' own stlye of support. I enjoyed some Mariachi bands' music while running, as well as some hip-hop and live bands playing some 90's tunes. (I heard No Excuses by AIC, as well as Interstate Lovesong by STP)
Even though the entire run was filled with agonizing pain, it still had its moments that brought some smiles from me. A few:
1) The Indian man who pronounced "water" as "watherrrrrrr."
2) The people wearing capes/ costumes/ crowns.
3) The little old grannies that passed me up after my calves were shot.
Several of my blisters had popped by mile 25, and my feet were in horrible burning pain. As I was ready to take my walk down to a crawl, some dude ran up to my side, said a "fuckin aye, bro," and started walking with me. We started talking to one another and somehow motivated each other to run the last 1.2 miles to hit that beautiful 26.2 mile mark.
After the race we wished each other a speedy recovery and went our seperate ways. That last run had cost me, and my walk was now slowed down to what could be best described as "baby steps." I grabbed a water bottle/ banana/ almonds from some of the vendors and headed to pick up my bag as well as mentally prepare myself for the 3 mile walk back to my car.