Christspeak, Rx

My wife remembers it more than I do, even though it was my dream. I was still running and I tripped and even as I began to fall I couldn’t stop running. She remembers because I woke up yelling just before I landed from the phantom fall. I remember waking in a sweat and being overwhelmed with relief that it was just a dream, my run from hell was over.

It was October, 1994 and I had just completed 26.2 miles in a driving rain with the world’s most popular woman, and 16000 others, in the Marine Corps Marathon. My first marathon was on one of the nation’s most difficult courses, the Charlotte Marathon in January, 1994. I had run it in 4 hours, 15 minutes. At the time, the last mile and a half of that 26.2 mile race was on Morehead Street and entirely uphill.

I chose to run The Marine Corps Marathon because it famous for flat terrain, incredible views to keep your mind off the pain, competition between the Corps and other military branches, and encouraging crowds. Oprah chose to run it because it is known as the “People’s Marathon. She’d just lost an admirable amount of weight and inches, so she’d secretly packed a film crew with her own personal trainer and headed to Washington D.C.

Marathon runners enjoy an unmistakable boost from 2 separate sources in most organized marathon races that they cannot recreate while in training. The first and most obvious is hydration. You’ve heard about runners breezing along and suddenly they hit “the wall,” usually between the 18th and 21st miles of the race. The wall is a direct result of dehydration, the depletion of essential body fluids. In organized marathons, ample water and Gatorade are provided at every mile and all but the elite take advantage of it.

The second and most surprising boost is crowd support. Virtually every mile of a marathon is lined with people, mostly strangers urging you on. I can’t exaggerate what those cheering crowds meant to me. In both marathons, I was scared to death of failing. During training I endured shin splints, cramps, blood blisters, lost toenails and watched helplessly while better runners than I suffered more serious injuries, dropping out of the training altogether. Both times I’d brought my family to the race, how could I fail in front of them? The crowds get in your face- yelling your name, (if you are smart enough to tape it to your chest), “C’mon Chip!”- “Look at you- you’re doing great”- “Lets Go Chip!” It may sound trite or corny, but whatever you call it, it worked on me.

Running with Oprah.

Most marathoners aren’t concerned about anyone else, they just want to finish the race and some have a reasonable goal of how fast they should finish it. But Oprah changed all that. No one wanted to get beat by Oprah.

In fairness to Oprah, the Marines wanted to protect her and so they placed her at the worst possible starting position for an amateur, the front. In large marathons, runners are placed in groups according to their expected finish time. Oprah should have been at the 4.5 hour mark, behind some 12000 runners. Instead, she was lined up with 100 of the world’s best marathoners, a couple of thousand elite runners, and another 4000 truly gifted runners. Imagine running while thousands of fellow marathoners blow by you for virtually 26 miles.

It rained hard for the next 6 hours. At every mile marker onlookers would call out the time, “She’s 15 minutes ahead!” “You got her- only 12 minutes ahead.” Oprah’s around the corner- 5 minutes ahead!”

Public Urination and The Ultimate Humiliation

I arrived at the Iwo Jima Memorial early and fully hydrated. I knew from Charlotte that everyone has to relieve themselves- both ways, numerous times. I wanted to beat the crowds to the port-o-johns. Guys, of course, have it a lot easier than the girls when it comes to peeing. In both Charlotte and in D.C the first few miles of the race had hundreds of runners veering off course- guys peeing in bushes- gals squatting under trash bags. A few had to publicly do the ultimate; I’ll let you guess what that means.

Anyway, I was there early and went often. An hour before the race a light drizzle turned into a downpour. I cheated up to the 3 hour mark and was surprised to find 2 good friends from Greensboro. 15 minutes later I began asking God- why me? I had to go again, soon. Each of the hundreds of toilets had lines of 40-50 runners. I had one ally, the hard rain. So I jogged a mile or so back until I saw an empty field. Why was it empty? We were starting the race on a closed off highway. On the other side of this field was a steady stream of traffic from another highway. “What the hell,” I remember thinking, “I’m 300 miles from home.” I cursed, squatted, and let’er rip. When it was over- as if I needed more humiliation- I discovered I’d chosen the only field in Washington without a tree and therefore not a leaf, in sight. Disgusted and full of shame I began jogging back to the start.

How hard was it raining? By the time I reached the 3 hour mark and my Greensboro friends, (brothers Tommy and Michael Gray), all evidence of my shame had mercifully been washed away. A stranger, an older man broke off a piece of a power bar and handed it to me, “Power up,” he said with a smile. I was touched, so I took the candy and started to pop it in my mouth when I remembered where my hands had been. Instead I thanked him, and said, “I’ll save it for Haines Point- for luck,” and pretended to put it in a pocket I did not have.

Running + Rain = Pain

Just before the starting gun, the bottom dropped out of the sky... so hard you couldn’t look up at all. With the rain and the crowded field of runners it took us around 10-12 minutes just to reach the starting line. The first mile we were barely jogging, I think it took about 12 minutes. Around mile 2 we could run our pace, (9 minute miles), but it was crowded and we were already running through huge puddles of water. (No one likes to run in wet shoes, especially 20+ miles!) About every minute I’d hear a sickening sound- Splat SPLAT!- signifying a tripped up runner hitting the pavement.

Truly Amazing Sites & Highlights of the 1994 Marine Corps Marathon.

All around us were amazing fetes of strength from various military troops. Things like platoons in full gear, flag bearers never wavering for 26 miles, soldiers who simply took up the challenge –in uniform and boots- the day of the race.

Around mile 10 I was breathing hard, never a good sign, but I remember looking up and seeing the Supreme Court building. As if on queue, the newest appointed Justice at the time, David Sutter was standing alone under his umbrella. “Hiya Judge!” a runner yelled. Someone chided, “Its Justice, not Judge- jackass” which led to a gang of us cheering, “Hiya Judge!”

Catching Up With Oprah

The last time I saw my family, they were screaming, "You are only 3 minutes behind Oprah!" I caught up with her at mile 17. She was running with a film crew -who were on some sort of trailer beside her, passing her water and cheering her on. About 3 yards behind her was her personal trainer, a tall, well built manly man. (We learned later he had to keep slowing her down- her first miles with the elite runners and the cheering crowds had her way ahead of her pace, about a 10 minute mile.)

By the time I reached Oprah, my shoulders were cramping badly, presumably from my posture in the rain. I was at a loss for words but there was no way I’d let this moment pass. I remember being shocked at how small she was. Anyway, I came along side of her, tapped her elbow with mine, and said something like, “Oprah…your looking good.”

My son Charlie, 16 years old at the time, jumped the rope to run me in the last 8 miles. I had finished Charlotte and its “Morehead Mile” strong (my sister Ann ran me in), and DC was supposed to be much easier. Around miles 18-20 there is one hard stretch at Haines Point- the tip of a peninsula where onlookers are not allowed. It gets awful lonely and quiet at the very moment you need the crowds the most. My time was good, but my entire upper body was cramping. You have to discipline yourself to walk through water stops to make sure you get enough water down. It is incredibly painful to stop running and walk, only to start running again. I could not have made it without Charlie’s encouragement. (Hard, unless you are a billionaire with a film crew passing you water whenever you need it. Oprah has often bragged she didn’t stop to walk once, not realizing she had it much easier by not having to walk through water stations.)

In 1994, the Marines made a cruel an uncommon mistake with the 24th and 25th mile markers. The actual distance between those mile markers was over 1.5 miles. I really thought I was done for, but that meant there was only a half mile to go by the time I reached the 25th mile. The final 0.2 miles is up hill, straight to the Iwo Jima Memorial. I was so ready to finish this run from hell, I actually sprinted the entire 2 tenths.