The final kick
Fighting to the finish line, but not alone
Pain surges through my legs as I lie on the sidewalk of a street in Chicago's Chinatown district. I have just finished the first 20 miles of my first marathon and I have
ran into the proverbial "wall."
I knew it would come. The "wall" is the point when your body says no, but your mind and spirit have to take over and say yes. I had been preparing for this day for four and a half years, but I didn't realize how much I would need my friends and family — and the memories of them.
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By Andrew Vaupel,
Jayplay writer
In February 1999 I began dating Lindsey, my first girlfriend. Lindsey was a cross-country runner and a track and field athlete. I started running in March of that year so that I could someday run with her.
My first attempt at running was a disaster. I went to my hometown YMCA and ran two laps around the indoor one-thirteenth of a mile track.At the end of those two laps I was exhausted and out of breath.
Dr. George Sheehan, who former President Bill Clinton once called "the philosopher king of running," wrote "Life
is the great experiment. Each of us is an experiment of one — observer and subject — making choices, living them, recording the effects." I continued to push forward
with my running and I have lived by this basic philosophy.
My running eventually took on more meaning.
I ran so that I could eat what I wanted.
I ran so that I could be in shape.
I ran so that I could be in shape. I ran so that I could relax from the pressures of the world and just think.
My freshman year on a day when it was raining so hard I couldn't see more than 30 feet in
front of me, I went out to run a few miles. When I got back from running, my roommate laughed at me. I looked like I had been thrown into a pool fully-clothed, but I could see he was impressed with my dedication and, admittedly, so was I.
I got so into running that even after Lindsey and I broke up, I kept going. I found new running partners and life went on.
I thought I was hardcore, but then I met someone like me who was even crazier. She was a good friend from work who decided one day that she wanted to run a marathon and trained hard for weeks
last winter to get ready. She trained through pain and by marathon day she was in such excruciating agony she took painkillers so she could run. She ignored the warning signs that something was wrong. Later she found out that a bone in her leg had been rubbing directly against her muscles causing real damage.
I was horrified — and a little inspired. I decided that I would run the LaSalle Bank Chicago Marathon on Oct. 10 of this year. I trained throughout the summer and into the first weeks of school. I experienced the pain of training, but my pain, unlike my friend's, was just muscle soreness.
As race day approached everyone I met was rooting me on. My family had grown very supportive. My mother and father wished me well. My sister was inspired and began going for regular walks for exercise.
exercise. When I arrived in Chicago for race weekend Taylor greeted me at the rail station. She was the host for my visit to Chicago. On race day, Taylor and her boyfriend came out to the course to yell encouragement.
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After five minutes of lying on the sidewalk, I attempt to use my legs to get
up. I try five times but my leg muscles will not cooperate. I think to myself that this might be the end of the race for me. Then thoughts of all the people who were supporting me race through my head and I decide to try and get up a different way.
I roll over and use my arms to slowly walk my way into an upright position.
I'm finally up and only 6.2 miles from the finish. I feel the rumblings of the revolution occurring in my legs, but I just put one foot in front of the other.
As each mile passes — more slowly than I ever imagine possible — the pain hits a plateau. My legs are numb and I think I may pass out as I continue to run. When I finally see the finish line I begin to cry for joy and from the pain. I cross the finish line with my arms raised in triumph.
Once I get through the finish area and meet with my friends I tell them I will never run another marathon again. As we slowly walk away from the finish area I realize that those 26.2 miles were not just a personal triumph. Finishing the marathon is a reminder that with hard work and great friends, regular people can do incredible things.
Maybe another marathon isn't all that far-fetched. Some of my friends still think I'm crazy, but without their support I couldn't have done it.
11.4.04 Jayplay
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