RACE REPORT: Grandma's Marathon

Submitted by: Tracy Proctor

“Grandma” must have been MAD this year! I can sum up this experience in two words—black flag. For my fellow runners who ran this race with me in 2007, that was a piece of cake compared to this year. 2009 has officially been named the hottest Grandma’s Marathon in their 33 year’s of running.

Knowing I had a long shuttle ride up the North Shore I stumbled out the door at 5:30 and find a nice plush coach waiting for me at the designated pick-up. Impressive upgrade from the bumpy school buses of years past. The downside of course to this was they did not run the coaches as frequently and my well planned schedule failed when we did not leave until 6 putting us at the start at 7.

First stop is the “port-a-potty city”, I’m looking at the massive sea of people thinking there is NO WAY I would make it to the starting line but it was urgent so I get in line. 20 minutes later, still waiting and the National Anthem can be heard in the background and then the blue angels do their annual flyover. At this point I am the fifth person in line and still have not checked my bag; neither have ¾ of those waiting.

Finally I get through the line and rush to the drop zone, the trucks are closing up and they are yelling to throw them in the truck so I toss it and rush to the start. Fortunately I get behind a group trying to work their way up to the 4:15 zone so I follow along hoping to get past the crowd before the gun goes off.

At this time the weather was approaching 70 and the humidity was listed at 78% with virtually no breeze, not a good sign. The first five miles were rather uneventful, I knew the weather was hot and adjusted accordingly to run a slower pace. I pass the mile 5 marker and notice a red flag out already, all I can do is laugh. Just past the mile 8 marker I spot the first down runner with an ambulance, I don’t believe I have ever seen one that early in a race before but I keep going.

Mile 10 I notice my legs feeling a little funny and realized they had that rubbery feel—WHAT I run 10 miles regularly at a faster pace than this, really not a good sign. By this time I am thankful I decided to carry my own 20 oz bottle, I was going to need it!

At the half way mark I realize I am going to have to change my plan to a run/walk and conserve energy. I was not alone on this, a large number were already walking and I have seen a couple more down runners. By 10:00 the weather was close to 80 but humidity had dropped some, the damage was done though and the heat was taking its toll on runners. There was no conversations going on and people were not smiling. The peak ambient temperature during the race was recorded at 92 degrees.

I keep trudging forward, walking hills and drinking, oh did I mention walking?? By mile 16 my leg is starting to cramp and both calves are twitching. I know this means a matter of time before the muscle locks up on me. As I approach the 20 mile mark I notice a black flag—not sure when it came out as I didn’t check in the last couple stations.

The remaining miles all flow together, they are spent stopping to stretch and rub my legs, drinking, walking but still running some. I try to enjoy the scenery along the way, sing along to my ipod, whatever it takes to distract myself and do pretty well except for the random searing pain that is now also in my thigh.

I have just passed Lemon Drop Hill, the last hill on the course and have 4 miles to go. I swallow hard and push on. Despite having drunk 3 full bottles, I am not sweating and no sloshing in my shoes, not a good sign as I normally sound like I just stepped in a water puddle after a five mile run. I don’t remember much about the last 4 miles, I did run more than I had been. There are a lot of people stopping with cramps; more are walking now then running.

Feeling completely defeated I pass under the final bridge knowing the finish line is ahead of me .2 miles. This is normally a very emotional time for me, however, I am too spent and have no emotions as I cross the finish line. I’m done is all I can think. I later find out over 500 people that started did not finish and the largest number ever was treated in the med tent. I walk on, get my medal and t-shirt, bypass any food—not a good idea at this point and look for my family. To no surprise I could not find so I walk all the way to pick up my bag and call.

Once we meet up I collapse thankful to still be moving on my own. Fifteen minutes later a searing pain goes through my left calf, as I curl in pain it hits my right calf and then my thigh. I’m screaming in pain as my muscles look like an alien is trying to pop out the back of my leg. Finally my leg relaxes enough to handle the pain so I check my messages. I have a very nice congratulations from Michael and appreciate the words of encouragement UNTIL he mentions training for the Marine Corps…