A Runner's Ramblings: Volume 5; 37th Edition
957.8 miles raced; 350 yards swam and 9 miles biked in 2010
Race:
Dallas White Rock Marathon
Place:
Dallas, TX
Miles from home:
1245 miles
Weather:
30-50s; Sunny
In the week prior to this race, I had a family member take ill, another get in a car accident and have my own car demolished in another completely unrelated accident. A touch of the flu with a sore throat that felt as if I was swallowing razor blades made me consider a DNS (did not start) which seemed far more intelligent than attempting the race. I had felt mostly fine during
my interview with 105.3 The Fan on Friday. And while, on Saturday prior to the race, my voice was diminished to a rasp during a pre-race talk to members of the Texas Team Beef, I was feeling fairly decent. As such, I figured it was just as easy to run the race, my 123rd lifetime marathon, than to stay in bed.
When I awoke in the morning prior to the race and I felt like death, I think my rationale for still deciding to run was that if I already felt horrid prior to the race at least when the inevitable tiredness set in late in the race, the swing would not be nearly as wide as usual.
Catching the shuttle bus to the start, I was freezing. In my Team Beef singlet, which normally would have been perfect for me with the temperature hovering around 40 degrees prior to the gun being fired, my teeth were chattering. The sponsors of the race had people randomly passing out rain ponchos (none was forecasted) and cotton gloves near the start. I took both and immediately felt better.
Getting close to the start I saw the corrals were labeled by letters and I had an “E” on my bib. I guess this was by estimated time but as I looked at the hundreds of people in A-D I was disheartened. I definitely did not want to have to pass all these people in the race and I was fairly certain I would. Before I could make any further thoughts about this placement I saw an older gentleman, in almost slow-motion, go flailing toward the ground. Jogging to his own corral, he had tripped on something and went down. With his arms locked up in a garbage bag to keep warm, he could not brace himself and took the brunt of the fall with his face. Immediately a cut opened on his nose and he rolled over in obvious pain. I saw a woman come to his side in a flash and surmised it was his wife. We locked eyes for a second and I said: “Wait right here.”
I sprinted toward the start line where I saw a vast amount of volunteers. I told one of them we needed to get some medics to a man who had fallen. She immediately pointed me to a man with a walkie-talkie and within seconds he was on the horn. I then led the gentleman back to the poor runner who took the header. His wife was bracing his head in the seated position and every time he took a cloth off of his nose it spurted. I told her she needed to get him level on the ground and elevate his legs. With the man with the walkie-talkie standing by me, I could hear the person he was speaking to was unsure of his position. So I asked where the other person was and then ran in that direction to get him. Finding an EMT who looked like he was looking for someone, I figured he was my guy. Pointing him in the direction, I figured there wasn’t really much I could do. But before I could decide to follow, the countdown for the race began over the loud speaker. I happened to be standing right near the “A” corral so I just jumped in.
By this point people were throwing excess clothes brought to keep them warm to the side. As I stepped into the corral I got hit in the face with a long sleeve t-shirt. Almost without hesitation, I took my singlet off, slipped the t-shirt on and had the singlet back on just in time for the fireballs (yes, seriously), confetti, and gunshot signaling the start of the race.
