Bonjour

When I was asked to write about my marathon experiences as a first-timer, my response was a quick and as simple as my initial reactions to having completed the race: sure, no problem.

But as I began considering how I would begin to convey my experiences, I realized that much of what occurred has already blurred. In fact, I'm not sure it was meant to ever crystallize in a singular moment of significance. There are just the images of moments like photographs.

The start was a mass of nine-thousand hopefuls, veterans, novices, runners and walkers crowded in together on fourth avenue, singing the anthem. My body subconsciously lurched forward whenever the streetlight I was standing under turned green.

The start was the sound of the horn, and the waiting that followed it before it was my turn to move. It was the moment I took most for myself. The race had the whole of my attention.

The middle of the race was a swirl of pompoms, cups littering the road, sunlight in my face, and road-side M*A*S*H unit blister-repair. I think I gave permission for a film crew from Chicago to film my foot repair somewhere along the long turnaround point. I won't make a pun about footage. I just hope it's not on the Internet somewhere.

The sunlight and warmth, and the blisters they no doubt helped to inspire, began to conspire against my personal-best pace. In the end, speed was of no consequence. I am one of the slower walkers; I was already committed to the reality of a seven-hour plus event. It didn't matter to me when I finished -- but that I finished, and how.

Although I never hit The Wall, for a brief moment I did catch the course chuckling a little. Who knew that Interstate was the interminable highway? It never felt that long on the bus. There were signs reading 'You're almost there! Mile 24 Ahead!' for what had to be four miles.

But there was no stopping -- in fact, stopping hurts far more than simply walking your feet off of your body, I have learned. I wanted to see the Steel Bridge. I didn't care how many miles were packed into Mile 24.

I had one personal goal for the marathon. I wanted to come to the finish strong, and I finished like I wanted to finish. To the tune of 'Gotta Fly Now' from Rocky, I was up and over the Steel Bridge. I moved through Saturday Market to the Olympic Theme, and I closed the race with the theme to the 'Chariots of Fire' and to the sight of my friends waiting for me. It just doesn't get any better than that.

So, what am I taking from this experience?

I trained with Portland Fit to prove to myself that with work and commitment I could do whatever I set out to do, a 10-mile walk, a half-marathon, a complete marathon. Prior to my training, I had never walked more than four miles in a single outing. I was a treadmill walker. But I've now convinced my body that it was natural to walk 26.2 miles in a single afternoon, and not only was it natural but it was desirable to do so.

Hey, Mile 24 -- who's laughing now?