This story really started over Christmas Break, when I was back home in Holland, MI. I met up for drinks with Ben Patterson, a childhood friend of mine, at The Curragh Irish Pub in downtown Holland. After winding through a range of different topics, our conversation turned to running. I had just missed a chance at running the 2008 Long Beach Marathon due to coursework and research, and I was chomping at the bit to run another race. The San Diego Rock 'n' Roll Marathon, which was approaching in a few months, was a logical choice. Ben and I had played soccer together for something like seven years; he's athletic, so I encouraged him to fly out and run it with me. He was excited, but then again, most people are excited to talk about running marathons. Training, on the other hand, is a different story...
A few weeks later, I was thus somewhat surprised to open up my e-mail and find a message from Ben asking for more information about the race. We exchanged a series of e-mails, and I outlined a training plan for him. As a bit of additional encouragement, I then mailed him a copy of "Run Your First Marathon" by Grete Waitz, which was the same book my aunt and uncle had given me before my foray into the distance running world in early 2008.
Ben eventually booked tickets out to San Diego, and we shared a fun, if slightly anxious, few days together before the race on Sunday morning. One of my coworkers, Yang-Hui, drove us to the start line. To our amusement (and to his horror) navigating the stop-and-go traffic on the steep hills in downtown San Diego proved to be too much for his totally bald tires to handle, which meant that he literally had to slam on the gas and burn rubber every time traffic would ease just to proceed a few feet. Other drivers were shamelessly pointing and laughing.
We were running late, so we bailed from the car early and made our way to the start. We dropped our bags and just had time for a half-hearted warm-up session of jogging and stretching prior to the gun going off.
Our plan was to stick to a 9 min/mile pace, which we had a agreed upon several weeks earlier. As we got started, I realized that it was actually the first time that I had run with anyone for several years (perhaps dating all the way back to my middle school training days.) Therefore, it was thus strange and unnatural getting going and settling into a comfortable rhythm.
Attendance at the race was around 24,000, which felt absolutely huge, and the crowd was lively. We saw everything from barefoot runners, to entire groups of Elvis impersonators (with mobile music boxes in tow).
About 14 miles into the race, Ben started experiencing stomach problems -- part of a chronic condition. We toughed it out together for a few miles, in an effort to stick true to our finish-together-at-all-costs pact, but ultimately he forced me to leave him behind at the aid station at mile 17.
He would continue until the end, he told me, but at his own pace. I reluctantly left his company and ran at a snappier pace for a few miles, until I saw Dong-Hui, a coworker of mine from Scripps, waiting on the side of the road. He had driven down to cheer me on, and loudly shouted, "Keep Going!" when he saw me turn the corner. Dong-Hui's presence brought a big grin to my face, and I hustled onward at a brisk pace until the threat of cramps caused me to ease up several miles later. With my mind on Ben and his well being, I trucked my way through the past few miles until I reached the rowdy finish line at the Marine training center. (Incidentally, this was a fun finish because my parents were able to watch from Michigan via live video feed.) While rehydrating and waiting for Ben, I saw one many come stampeding through the finish line and make a full face-plant onto the asphalt about 10 feet away from me.
At 4:13:22, Ben made his heroic appearance at the finish line. He looked ragged but radiant. We gave each other big hugs before stumbling on creaky legs through the refreshment lines.
After resting for a few minutes and picking up our bags, we took a shuttle downtown and eventually found a cab to get back to my apartment in UTC. Following showers and naps, we were ravenous, and devoured burritos from Chipotle, fried chicken from Von's, and burgers from In-N-Out. Two of my friends from Scripps took us out for drinks later that night, and we struggled with bleary eyes through games of darts and rounds of beers.
The next morning, I woke up early to get Ben to the airport in time for his flight to Vegas before beginning my work week.
We sent e-mails back and forth throughout the week. (One was to tell me of his explois wearing his finisher medal at the poker tables.) And on Friday, he finally convinced me to buy tickets to fly out to Vegas to stay with him and four other high school friends for a few days.
The following weekend, needless to say, was nothing short of epic.
