Race: Madison Marathon
Date: November 10, 2013
Result: DNF
Going into this race, I wanted to correct the things that gave me problems a month before in the Chicago Marathon – chafed inner thighs, black big toenails, and calf cramps. This time I was a regular boy scout – I brought up to Madison body glide, better fitting shoes, and a fun run mentality to keep myself from pushing it too hard. And as luck would have it I also brought a stomach virus up there to make all the other potential problems absolutely trifling.
The day before the race the virus hit me and I was curled up
in bed all morning on Saturday. When
we headed up there around 2 in the afternoon my stomach was cramping up in
regular intervals, around every half hour or so and I was making note of the
time as if they were pregnant lady contractions. I was hoping the spacing would get further
and further apart and they did, eventually hitting me every hour or so.
Packet pickup was a breeze, with only about 1800 bibs in the
full marathon, and the expo was about the size of a basketball court. We did a lap around the room and got my
shirt, a really nice long sleeve maroon tech shirt that reminded me of my high
school colors. We didn’t stick around
long though and met with my friend Courtney who was running the half and her
husband David for a pasta dinner at Paisan’s next door, which had a great view
of Lake Monoa. We talked about how work was
going and next year’s Ragnar and I was feeling pretty good and had a few
Capital Brewery Amber Ales and a nice bowl of mushroom fettucine alfredo.But after checking in at the hotel my stomach wasn’t too happy with the dinner, my only meal of the day, and starting at around 9 or 10 my internal dike broke and the whatever Dutch boy that was holding up the crack drowned. With each trip to the bathroom I could feel my energy sap out from me and I was pretty sure I was creating matter and breaking some laws of the universe. Each sip of Gatorade I took to replace the fluids I was losing was followed by what felt like a liter of torrential output, expelled from both directions. I couldn’t sleep and I kept waking up to the feeling like death had grabbed my GI tract and was wringing it like a wet rag to get every drop of fluid out of it. This happened like clockwork on an hourly basis – 1am, 2am, 3am, until I finally stayed up at 4am, each time hoping it was the last of the fluid I had in me, but wasn’t. At this point I figured it would take a miracle to make it to the start line, and I joked with Mae, “You know how Jesus turned water into wine? I’m turning food into water.” We checked out of there without taking advantage of the free breakfast and drove to the start line.
The intimacy of a smaller race like this was great because
Mae could be there right at the start line and security was nothing like
Chicago’s, which understandably had tons of security everywhere. There were no corrals, just a chute about 70
yards deep where there were signs for 6:00, 7:00, 8:00 all the way to 12:00 minutes
separated every 10 yards. I snapped a
pic in front of the Capitol building, hugged Mae and snaked my way to the 11:00
area a few minutes before start time and waited for the horn.
The first mile was pretty much all downhill (in every sense
of the word) as we headed toward the Arboretum, and the cramping I hoped –
prayed – would be gone came back and punched me in the gut a half mile in. I began to panic because each step jostled my
inner workings. I knocked out the first
mile in about 9:45 and saw my oasis up ahead - the first set of porta potties,
a whopping 3 of them after mile 1. There
were 6 people in line in front of me and I kept my watch going and saw my pace
for mile 2 go up, up and up. It took
about 5 minutes before I finally gained entry to one of the johns. The runners waiting for their turn after me
probably thought there was a faucet in there based on the sounds I was making.
I busted out of there and took off hoping I would now be ok
for at least the time being, and grabbed a cup of water from one of the awesome
volunteers at mile 1. I was already
dehydrated and hoped the drinking wouldn’t bring more cramps but of course it
came back and I felt the urge to go again not even 100 yards from the very
first aid station.
Miles 2 through 5 took us runners directly away from the
start line and around Lake Wingra so there was no going back. I was already regretting my decision but
there wasn’t much I could do at this point but just run. So I tightened the old sphincter, put my head
down and plowed forward. I couldn’t
shake the infamous image on the net of that poor runner who had shit himself in
the middle of a race and the look of the horrified spectators; that was the
main reason to not try to do this. I DID
NOT WANT TO BE THAT GUY. At least the
guy in the picture was wearing shorts so it had a place to go; wearing thermal
compression tights, I pictured it just coming out and evenly coating my lower
half like some sort of scat cast as my worst nightmare was playing out in my
head.
What also didn’t help things were all the well-meaning folks
sporadically dotted throughout the course wearing Green Bay Packers gear
cheering me on - it just felt a tad icky as a Bears fan. There
was a sign saying that Aaron Rodgers thought I was a champion. In my head I was thinking, I don't care what he thinks of me. There was a juggler and all I
could think was, fuck off, juggler. I
mean, seriously – who hates on jugglers?
But I wasn’t having any of his nonsense.
I'm slowly dying here, and you're going to juggle? Externally though I kept my head down and politely thanked them as I
trudged past them.
When I saw Mae at the 7.5 mile mark, I told her I didn’t
have the drive to keep running anymore.
But since we were 3 miles away from where we parked, I might as well
stay on the course and re-evaluate somewhere between miles 10 and 11 where I’d
see her again and kept going. I had no
idea there was about 80 feet of climbing up Observatory Drive at mile 9.
At the bottom of that hill was the mile 10 aid station and of
course I went straight to one of the porta potties for the third time. While on the throne I looked at my
watch. Wow, I’m a few minutes shy of two
hours. In my first two marathons I have
already crossed the halfway mark at this time.
I’ve lost at least 10 minutes to the porta potty visits and it was a
struggle to run 11 minute miles. I was
so discouraged and tired I just started walking to help with the
discomfort. Then I
felt a tap on my shoulder and I look and see it’s the 5:00 hour pacer that
tapped me and he and his band of merry followers slowly passed me like slightly
faster slugs trudging past a slower slug suffering from a severe bout of
diarrhea. He probably said something
mystical and life changing that would have inspired me to run another 16 miles
but with my headphones on I didn’t hear him.
He, his followers and what little morale I had left slowly but surely
distanced themselves from me into the horizon. 
Registration: $105 + $7.35 Service Fee
Flight: N/A
Hotel: AmericInn Madison West $97
