Grandma's Marathon 2007

Sunshine, Sweet Pea, and I took the train to the start of Grandma’s Marathon, enjoying the ride, the coffee, and the bathroom. The race began under full sun and a temperature of 71 degrees, to the music of Chariots of Fire. A gloriously beautiful morning, unless you wanted to run 26.2 miles as fast as you could.

I started quite conservatively, following the 4:00-hour pace team, hoping to speed up after a few miles if everything was working. I felt wonderful, running for the first time in 18 days. Not a hint of pain. We made the first mile in about 8:30, slightly faster than the target pace. It felt easy, as it should at the beginning of a marathon.

Then, at about a mile and a half, going up a slight grade, something popped in the left foot. Plantar fasciitis was back. Soon I was walking along the side of the road, being consoled by friends as they ran by. It turned out that I could run for a while until it hurt too much, then walk until it hurt less, then repeat. I stuck to the gravel shoulder on the side of the road as much as possible, and later on the grass boulevard along London Road, doing the best I could.

The other problem: Running with a limp, trying not to step hard on one foot, puts extra pressure on the other leg. Around mile eight, I started to feel a little stress in the right-leg quads, and that got worse little by little for the rest of the race. Left heel hurts, right thigh hurts. Originally hoping for 4:00, and imagining a little better, I finally finished in 5:05, 14th of 32 in my 65-69 age group. But that’s the end of whining.

I had fun, too. When you’re hobbling along the shoulder of the road, you can joke with the spectators, high-five the little kids (even some big ones), and taste a sample of beer or a piece of candy if you like. And I chatted with other runners, eventually even re-passing one or two friends who had passed me earlier. For several miles I ran with the 5-hour pace team, sometimes ahead and sometimes behind. At Mile 7, I was able greet my mom and dad again, Grandma’s volunteers since the beginning. The 5-hour pace team gave them a cheer. A little further along I was greeted by my son, who lives right along the race course. At Mile 20 I shook Al Franken's hand and wished him well. At Mile 23, high-school friends and classmates John and Cathy were still waiting to greet me, though I showed up more than an hour late.

The temperature rose to 81 at the finish. Ambulances went past me several times, as the heat and unrelenting sun got to everyone. It affected me less, however, because I was going slower than my normal pace. Toward the end, most of the runners near me were so affected by the heat that they were done running. They were walking, and I was still able to run some of the time. I passed a lot of people, and that’s fun.

Today, the day after the marathon, the right thigh hurts more than the left heel. Stairs, especially, are not my friends. But that will pass in another day or two, and now it’s time to get serious about curing the plantar fasciitis. I’ve been icing it, and will continue using the Strassburg sock at night. Beyond that I need to put together a better plan. NOT running is not an option.