The Memorial Run Oklahoma City: Second Race

Remember This Run; OKC 2024

I finished my first race of the year this past weekend. Another 26.2 miles in the win column. Well not exactly “Win” like first place, but “win” as in everyone wins a trophy. It’s the medal around my neck in the picture by the way. I’m half kidding about everyone getting a trophy. The medallion is a race tradition that everyone walks away with for paying the race fee. No one equates it to winning. We compete against ourselves and try to improve on the last race time. We strive for the ever-shifting PR (Personal Record) and tweak our routines for efficiency. It can feel a bit like solving a problem. The inputs change, weather, health and weight. Course conditions like hills will break down your stamina.

Don’t get me started on food. Finding the right balance of carbs and fats for endurance running is harder than finding a good pizza joint in Oklahoma. I guess it’s a relief that pizza’s not a great option.

Race Gimmicks

Fortunately, Oklahoma City isn’t crazy hilly. Where there are hills, they are front loaded into the course. The second portion is mercifully flat. Heavy rain and thunderstorms the night before made the roads wet. I didn’t encounter any ankle deep puddles but a light drizzle here and there made for slick shoes. I saw one man in a shirt and tie combo and a pair of tan dress slacks keeping a steady pace. I’m not sure what that was about, some gimmick I guess. Usually where there is one there are others. But I didn't see any others dressed like that.

As I neared the finish I saw a teenager jog quickly ahead of me in loose crew socks and camouflage crocs. I’ve seen super fit guys run in those hiking, strappy type sandals that wrap around your ankle before but never crocs. I had to laugh despite my exhaustion.  

Past Regrets

 This was my second effort at the Run to Remember. Last year didn’t go well. I was sick and nearly dropped out of the race. I popped a few Pepto Bismol tablets at one of the medical tents. I felt better enough to continue tottering toward the finish. I did a lot of tottering last year—painful and pathetic though it was. It’s a cross between a walk and stagger, like a pirate with a wooden leg hustling across a busy street.  

This year I prepared better with the food. I started eating a spaghetti meal the night before every big practice run. I like Italian food, so fuhgeddaboudit! In order to keep the same routine, I ate a banana and had a gel pack every 50 minutes or so. In the last couple of weeks I started taking electrolyte tablets. I could drink Gatorade along the route instead, but I despise the sweet powdery taste on my weak stomach. It’s nearly always mixed by hand and served in a large thermos. The mix is frequently too strong. I imagine they double up on the required measurements and then serve it lukewarm.

Summer Lesson

For some reason, I get very nervous about these marathons. This might explain the weak stomach. It’s like I anticipate the struggle before it happens and naturally shrink away. It’s not fear. It’s more of a reluctance to embrace the pain that’s coming. I had a job one summer helping a contractor put on roofs. The thought of getting up early and working my body raw made me reluctant to leave the comfort of my sheets. I’d worked grocery for a lot of years and even helped my Dad with landscaping on Saturdays. But I’ve never had such a hot, dirty job that demanded so much effort from sunup till sundown. I knew it would involve carrying shingle bundles (half packs) up the ladder multiple times.  Before that we ripped off about 5 layers of old shingles on this ancient Victorian and hurled them into the dumpster. Apparently, the last roofers didn’t bother to rip the old layer off. That meant more grueling work for us.

I remember the feeling I’d get after working a hard day in the heat, wrung out. The pain in my shoulders and arms gave way to a new satisfaction after a long shower. Not the kind of satisfaction that comes from getting that Jeopardy question right that no one else knew, but of a strenuous task done right. The pain, a reminder of a kind of success I hadn’t known before.  

Conclusion

I’ve run 4 marathons now, each slightly different. My time hasn’t improved from the first. It does bother me, but I refuse to make the timing the whole of the event. I'm still hovering over the 5 hour mark. Just finishing the race is an achievement I’m proud of. When you know what it takes to finish, you can’t get too hard on yourself. No matter what the clock says at the end of race, the feeling in my legs is a satisfying pain. I know what I overcame. Plus I got the same trophy that everyone gets.