Today I'm wallowing about in the hangover of my 15th marathon, the St. George Marathon. I call it The George for short. Although The St. George Marathon is long -- 26.2 miles to be precise -- I like to shorten it a bit by just calling it The George. That 26.2-mile reference was for all you folks who aren't sure how long the St. George Marathon is. Here's another hint: All marathons are 26.2 miles long. Unless of course you have a marathon with the word half in front of it -- a half marathon if you will -- then it should be exactly half of 26.2, which is 13.1. Miles.
The George of 2010 was a fine race. I'd like to give some extra special thanks to Mr. Sunshine, who made a fabulous showing of 95 degrees. Except it wasn't 95 when I finished, it was a brisk and burly 88. Irregardless of the heat, I loved it. All 3 hours and 19 minutes. (There were a few some-odd 28 seconds but who's counting that?)
On Thursday, we traveled to St. George, checked in, watched a movie and fell asleep. The kids now think the "hide-a-bed" is the most novel and ingenious concepts to date.
We slept in and I went out for the Friday ritual of three miles.
We had breakfast and went to the expo.
At the expo, you first look up your bib number, then retrieve your assigned bib. I'm including this photo of me checking in as "elite" because my performance this year (or lack thereof) may have kicked me out of the elite bucket. Elite is way cool, because you get your own holding tank with your own porta-potties at the start. This means no waiting in line to use the loo.
Then I started to tear up a bit 'cause it's pretty dang cool that I have a body that can do this kind of stuff. Repeatedly.
We returned home to swim and prepare dinner. The Olympic Hopedful joined us with a loaf of Czech bread. It looked quite gourmet and tasted gourmet too. (I call her the Olympic Hopedful because she qualified for the Olympic Trials in 2004, but didn't actually go to the Olympics. Hence the Hoped in Hopedful.) We were also joined by the Yahoos' piano teacher extraordinaire and her fine husband.
We all slept. At 12:49am, someone sent me a pornographic text message -- one with a proposition. I showed it to Spouse, who wasn't wearing his specs, and he mumbled something about how nice it was that "someone wished you good luck!" No, dear. Rhymes with luck. Not luck. Totally creeped me out, however, and I couldn't go back to sleep. It was an unknown area code, so my mind began to race... Does someone know me and I don't know them? Are they going to stalk me? Will I have to change my number? My mind tends to race like mad the day before a race. A weird text message didn't help.
At 4:45, Spouse drove the Olympic Hopedful and I to the race. Notice I'm wearing the traditional coat. I always wear that coat. Even if it's 69 degrees outside, which is what it was that morning. Also notice the traditional two thumbs up.
I started the race wearing arm-warmers and gloves. I was in complete denial over this one. I thought if I wear stuff that is needed when it's colder, maybe it will be colder. Hah! Was I funny or what? The starting temperature was 57. Not a good sign.
I ran a good solid 17 miles with mega energy left in the tanks. At mile 17-ish, the course comes out of a place called Snow Canyon and right into the jaws of Mr. Sun. From then on, it was hold on for dear life and get as much water as possible.
While I raced, the boys waited. Their traditional spot is around a half-mile from the finish. Yahoo #2 broke is glasses while wrestling Yahoo #1.
I finished and was mauled by Tebbie. I like being mauled by Tebbie. She can maul me any time. We had a popsicle and a photo. Incidentally, Tebbie was my success story for the day for I gave her strict dietary instructions. I told her to stay away from any carbs with fiber for two days prior to the race. This kept Tebbie on the road and out of the porta-potties. Yeah, Rabid! Really, it's Yeah, Tebbie 'cause she smoked it! Yeah Tebbie!
Meanwhile, back with the boys, they drew plans to build stuff. On graph paper. Trust Spouse to have graph paper on hand.
Not feeling so great, I ventured on to find the family in our designated meeting spot. I laid there for a while, then stood up only to toss the contents of my gut -- four Powerbar gels, one Gatorade, and two popsicles -- into a garbage can, in front of thousands of people. Spouse said he was going to video the tossing, but decided against it. I wish he would have, 'cause then you'd all get to see it right here!
With an empty stomach, I was ready to party again. Or at least stage some photo ops: One with Spouse and Yahoos, one with Tina. Tina and I plan to run the NY together in four weeks. I've decided that a good upchuck should be part of my post-race party from now on. I felt fantastic!
Was the day over then? Heavens no! We were just getting started. We went back to our place of positioning. Spouse took a nap (kid wrestling can be more difficult than marathon running, you know) while I fixed the Yahoo's glasses and made biscuits for the BBQ that evening. We attended the BBQ with some very fun friends and some very fun kids. I reminded our fun friends often that I "ran a marathon AND made biscuits" that day.
I'm something else, aren't I? Yes-sir-eee. A marathon and biscuits all in one day.
p.s. The biscuits were a cheddar, green onion, buttery, sour creamy concoction. Perhaps they'll make it into a Rabid Cooking post. Perhaps.