Oh, I ran a Marathon

I feel totally obligated to post this. When you run a marathon you have to write about it on your blog, right? Looking at these pictures I think it is such a joke. I don't know why. My running friends are going to hate me, but, I thought the marathon (all 26.2 miles of it) was stupid.







And this sarcastic picture just about sums it up:



So, I was under the impression that running a marathon was pretty much going to be the coolest thing I'd ever done. Like that YouTube movie trailer that I posted said, "When you cross that finish line, no matter how fast, no matter how slow, it will change your life forever." Hmmm....I think someone's pulling my leg. At the very least I thought I would feel cool telling people I've run the marathon. Well it's been 3 months and who have I felt like telling? No one.

Anyway, now I'm telling the blogosphere, so here's my short account. I wake up way too early, stand in long port-a-potty lines and then start the race about 15 minutes after the gun went off. At mile 4 I'm thinking, "22.2 miles to go? This sucks." At mile 10 I'm thinking, "I still have 16.2 miles to go? I am so bored." At mile 13.1 I'm thinking, "I can't believe I am only half-way done." At mile 17 I called Matt to tell him I had 9 miles left which was his cue to start heading up to SLC. At mile 20 I'm thinking, "I can't believe this isn't over yet." Then my sister-in-law Julie and her husband show up to cheer me on and take pictures. That was pretty cool. I passed them and then about 10 minutes later I saw them again. Without exaggeration I had the following thoughts, although they were much more jumbled: "Why are they still there? Didn't I just see them? Did I fall down? Did I black out? Am I moving?" And then I realized that I was still moving and that they had simply driven farther up ahead, which they continued to do, which was really very nice of them. At 25 miles I was thinking, "If I don't see the mile marker 26 soon I am going to die." At mile 26 I thought, "I can't believe I still have to run .2 miles." And then, the final moment, THE FINISH LINE I had heard so much about. I crossed it. There were no angels singing. There were no tears knocking on the door. There wasn't even a sense of pride. My only thoughts were, "Well, that sucked. I'm glad I'm done with that. Why did I do that? Why would anyone do that more than once?" Then I move on to the "Finish Line Festival" that I had heard so much about. By the time I finished the marathon (5+ hours) all the 5ker's, half-marathoners, and all the normal-paced marathoners had eaten everything! "Oh, you have a banana left. No thanks. I'd rather just have a $90 refund." I didn't even get a tin foil blanket!

It wasn't that it was just so completely hard physically (although it obviously was) that had me feeling that way. I just didn't get it.  I paid you money to run 26.2 miles?  Why?  What was the point?  I think I'm too practical. I ruin all the potentially life-changing moments in my life. Like when I gave birth. When it finally ended I just thought, "Okay, that was horrible. I'm glad that's done." No angels singing.  No sense of pride.  For the record though, getting a baby is much cooler than getting a medal.

And just because I thought it was so funny I am including (without his permission) Matt's account of my marathon experience that was written for the Jespersen Family Newsletter. His take on it was much more positive.

"On April 19, 2008, my wife ran for five hours and ten minutes, and I couldn’t have been more proud of her. The night before, she instructed me in the correct etiquette of greeting a marathoner at a finish line. She made me watch a video on YouTube that shows that people get pretty bleary-eyed and emotional, and I’d better be ready for that. Wow, I thought, this is going to be fairly intense. She also announced (probably because of my notoriously dilatory nature) that if I wasn’t there at the finish line with Jane when she was, “We’re through.” The stakes were raised. Well the next morning, Ella left around five o’clock to run in the Salt Lake Marathon. She brought her cell phone to call me to let me know when to save our marriage. I got Jane up, as per her instructions, and was feeding her breakfast, when I got Ella’s phone call. Through labored breathing, she let me know she had nine miles to go. I hung up, and to my surprise, I was becoming, quite prematurely, one of the blubbering idiots at the finish line on the YouTube video. I was so proud of her and told Jane that Mommy had only nine miles to go. Jane must have sensed my excitement, because she jumped up in her chair and started to shake and gyrate pretty excitedly herself. We jumped in the car and we were off.
We weren’t Ella’s only fans, though. A carload of Sabins negotiated their way to the finish line at the same time Jane and I did. But well before any of that, the Sparkses, armed with a map of the SLC Marathon route, served as the official Ella Jespersen Marathon Paparazzi. Dashing from point to point on Ella’s route, they cheered her on, and Julie took many wonderful photos. It must be admitted, though, that the first couple of times they cheered for her became a point of confusion for Ella. She saw the Sparkses cheering for her at about six miles to go. At that point, Ella was quite worn out and just concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. Well, about a mile later she sees them again. She thought she was hallucinating. She wondered, why are they still there? She thought perhaps she had blacked out and had just gotten up and started again. Well, as she saw them cropping up more frequently as she approached the finish, she realized she was still moving, and so were they.
Meanwhile, I had made my way with Jane to the finish, where I found all the Sabins waiting. My job was to hold Jane, take a photograph, and jump out and hug my sweaty wife all at the same time. To top it off, the closer Ella came to the finish, the bigger the lump in my throat, and the more I feared I would crumple to the ground like a blubbering idiot in the YouTube video I cursed more and more. I was so proud of Ella. Well, she crossed the finish line in a near sprint, I took the photo, the gates prevented the immediate hug, and Ella didn’t even see us. I rushed to reach her and assure her, I had done all to keep our marriage intact. We embraced, and it was indeed me who had to fight from allowing, as Shakespeare put it, “all my mother” from coming to my eyes. It was tough because I was so happy and proud of Ella."

Isn't that sweet? I think that almost makes it worth it. Almost.