D.N.F.



Prerace



Mile 6



There’s probably a really great quote about failure that I could find on Google. Something very inspiring and motivational by Winston Churchhill or Ghandi or someone of that character. But instead, since wi-fi at this hotel is like $15, I’m going to make my own failure quote.

“Failure sucks.

But it’s the thing that propels us more fiercely into success.”

That sounds pretty good.

The reason for such a quote? I found it somewhere between the pavement at mile 25 and the medical tent where some sort of paranoid-doom-syndrome was infecting my poor, poor mind.

I’ll spare you all the gory race details, it was going fine until about 22-23. At 24 I wasn’t sure I could get there: I was demolishing my 4 hour goal by like ten minutes, and I hadn’t stopped to walk at all, but I was sinking fast. Plummeting. My dad had planned to meet me for the last mile and drag my sorry ass in. Kimmie was just behind me. I could see the finish line.

Then I couldn’t keep myself running on the double yellow line in the middle of the street. I weaved left. Over-corrected right. Slowed. Staggered. Stumbled. My dad caught my arm. Kimmie caught up to me and grabbed my other arm. They tried to motivate me through the pain. My heart was in it, but my body couldn’t keep up.

To the pavement I went. (The rest is in and out as my mind spiraled into blackness.) I yelled, “Go Kimmie go, I’m sorry!!” (This I was told later.) Then suddenly there were paramedics surrounding me, doing paramedic things. I remember screaming, “I just want to finish!” I checked my watch and gave a countdown as I begged them to carry me over the line before my goal. Begged as in pleaded for dear life. I beseeched my father, my sister, the medics. No one could do anything—they were trying to keep me alive.

Suddenly I was secured to a body board on a gator, going who the hell knows where. My countdown continued to Barry and Craig (the medics driving me). My dear sister was also imploring the driver to just break the rules and drive across the line. I just wanted to finish. Just finish.

“Ma’am, we have to get him to the medical tent, we don’t know what is wrong. We can’t cross the finish.”

“Please, he just wants to finish. Please, sir.”

“Look, I can’t do that. But you can take his bib and go.”

“Take it Jana, take it! GO!!”

She then ripped the bib from my shirt and took off out of the gator at about 19^th Street. The finish line was at 14^th Street.

In the Medical Tent

Then the tent. The feeling of vomit curdling in my gut. Numbness in my legs and feet. Tingles all over. Cramps. Extreme dehydration. Electrolyte loss. No sodium. Fever. More medics. Kimmie, my little nurse who could. Jana and Dad. And the pain. See, I trained in the winter. I was never prepared for a sunny day when the low was 70 degrees. No one was.

I was delirious. I seriously thought the hand of death was resting over my heart. You hear all those running horror stories where people drop dead during a race, or die from dehydration. I thought that was me.

“Kimmie you’re a nurse. Tell me I’m going to be fine. Am I going to die?? Don’t lie to me, don’t you lie to me. I’m going to die. Kimmie, fix me. Fix me!”

“Jana, tell the doctor’s to just make me feel better. I just want to feel better. Make them make me feel better!!”

“Call Mom, I have to tell her I love her.”

“Jan, can we still go on the trip?”

"Call Katharyn too, I need to talk to her."

The Grim Reaper was standing at the edge of the bed pointing his long boney finger at my face.

NOT TODAY DEATH!

The pain didn’t subside, but eventually the laughs came easier. Kimmie convinced me my street cred had just tripled. Everyone DNF’s eventually. My story was just really good. And the pain, sickness, paranoia, and death thoughts only make it better.

I was there! I was so so close. To death (probably not really), and the finish line.
Eventually I sat up. Then stood. Then I was cleared to leave. And now my body just aches like I ran a marathon. (Or almost did.)

So, for me: DNF.

For brother/sister/awesome combo of 25 miles and 1.2 miles: 4:01.

But man, that quote about failure, it’s true. So here’s where that ferocity comes in.

Chicago Marathon. 10/9/11. I’m there. With a new goal, and renewed motivation.

PS: Good thing I had my clean undies on.

Dinner This Evening... Alive =)