For marathon runners, the day of your first marathon is like another birthday. That day is your day, and every year on that day, you know that’s your marathoniversary. It’s the day you went the distance for the first time, the day you never again wondered if you had what it takes to go 26.2. The day you forever gained the confidence that you could do anything you wanted to if you worked hard enough.
It’s probably also the day you had all sorts of disasters and things didn’t go the way you wanted them to, but it doesn’t matter. That was your day, the day you joined the club. The day you became a marathoner.
For me, that day was June 4, 2006. Six years ago today. If you would have told me that morning before the race I’d run 99 more marathons in the next six years, I would have told you NO WAY! However, if you would have told me that afternoon after the race I’d run 99 more in the next six years, I would have … well, I was drinking a little too much. I’m not sure what I would have told you.
My first marathon was the 2006 San Diego Rock ‘N Roll Marathon. Seven months earlier, I’d run my first half marathon on a dare. It was supposed to be a one-and-done thing. But one thing led to another and I got talked into running my first full so that me and a couple of buddies could have a Boys Weekend camping in the fifth wheel down in San Diego. Thanks, Kevin. Look at what you caused!
The race itself was fairly uneventful. I aimed for a sub-4 although I knew going in I was probably a few minutes shy of that ability. I started to struggle at about mile 20. (The wall? Really? No way!) Between miles 1 and 26, I made plenty of mistakes that I learned from and I went 4:06:25. I took two sick days from work because the pain from the race made it too miserable for me to go back to the office. By the third day, I was still in pain and genuinely worried that I had permanently injured myself. Ahh, how things have changed. Nowadays, I’ll play with the kids at the park in the afternoon after running a marathon in the morning. Or maybe I’ll run a marathon the next day. And sometimes, both.
The most memorable parts of my “first marathon day” actually came after the race. Like, when we spent well over an hour looking for the car. I wasn’t tremendously thrilled about that. I got dropped off by my brother and left with my wife (and kids and stepmom and in-laws) in a different car. I had no way of knowing where it was, but I got to search through a lot with 25,000 cars anyways. The only clue I got was from my dad, who rode down with my her but left the race with my brother, that they had parked somewhere … by a fence?
Obviously not a huge help, and go figure, I was the one who ended up finding it after 90 minutes of hiking around looking for it. I had a bit of a potty mouth at the time, and happy isn’t a word I would have used to describe myself, but I knew it was going to be a story I’d tell forever. Or at least for six years.
After finally finding the car, we headed back to the campsite and about 10 or 15 of us, my friends and family, had a barbecue and enjoyed the perfect San Diego weather. After a couple of hours of a nice celebration, my family headed 75 miles north to go home and it was back to Boys Weekend, which actually consisted of not much more than sitting around, relaxing and chatting. I consumed a considerable amount of Crown Royal to celebrate, then called up a local country radio station to request a song.
“Hiiii uhhhhhhh, can I … … request a song?” I was not doing a good job hiding the whiskey.
“Sure, what’s your name and what are you up to this afternoon?”
“I’m … Sam. I uhhhh … so … well … I ran the marathon this morning and I’m … well … having a drink or two to celebrate.”
The DJ started laughing and told me to go ahead with my request. The problem was, I didn’t know what song to ask for. I hadn’t thought about that minor detail of calling a radio station to make a request. Fortunately one popped into my mind out of nowhere.
“How about Pat Green, Baby Doll?”
About 10 minutes later, they played the convo back on the air and played Pat Green for me. My friends were shaking their head that I got on the radio while I was that drunk.
The next thing I remembered from that day was that I woke up the next morning. Apparently I, well, went to sleep sitting straight up in a chair at about 6 p.m. while it was still bright and sunny. Somehow, my friends and my brother got me into bed. Somewhere in there I had a 10-minute call home to my wife.** I saw that when I checked my call log the next morning. Didn’t remember a thing.
** Missed calls are bad. 10-minute conversations you don’t remember are really bad. But apparently, it was just a bunch of, “I love you Tiffany” and “Shut and go back to bed, Sam, I’m trying to sleep.”
And that was it. Not the greatest day ever, but definitely a fun day, one I’ll always remember (up until 6 p.m.). It was, and always will be, the day of my first marathon. The day I finally convinced myself I could reach a tough goal if I worked for it. The day I realized that even with hard work, things don’t always go as planned, but the show goes on and you’re better off with the experience. That was my day and it will always be that way.
It was June 4, 2006. Today is my marathoniversary!
Happy Anniversary! I SO get this post. I ran my first marathon on 11/20/11 in Philadelphia. The race did not go how I thought it would, but it didn’t matter much to me as you had noted – because on that day, I proved to myself that I could do anything if I worked hard enough for it. I’m glad to be a member of “the club.”
Happy Marathoniversary! And I suppose if you have to drunk dial, at least it was your wife and not someone less forgiving!