My First Marathon

This is a Throwback Thursday post.  I haven’t posting one of these in years.

I’ve been writing race reports for almost 15 years.  At first, I posted them as Facebook Notes.  When Facebook mothballed the Notes feature, I started this blog.  Still, I had already run more than 80 marathons and ultras before I starting writing race reports of any kind.

This post is an attempt to recall what I can of my first marathon.  I ran it 42 years ago, and I never wrote a race report at the time, so my memory is a bit sketchy.  I’m actually surprised how much I can remember.  There’s nothing quite as memorable as your first marathon, so certain details stick in my mind.

For my first marathon, I chose the Twin Cities Marathon, which was a home-town race.  The first Twin Cities Marathon was held in 1982.  I wanted to run it that year, but I injured my knee while playing softball.  That sidelined me for the rest of the year, so I set my sights on 1983 instead.

I had no idea how to train for a marathon.  I wasn’t following any training plan.  My average weekly mileage was inadequate, but I made a point of doing long training runs.  My first long training run was 14 miles.  After that, I gradually built up to the marathon distance.

When I started training, I had hopes of finishing a marathon in 3:15.  Most of my training runs were multiple laps of a 1.75-mile loop.  On my first 14-mile long run, I was able to average 13 minutes per lap.  I naively assumed that I could eventually get into good enough shape to hold that same pace for a marathon.

As the distance increased, and summer heat set in, I found my pace getting slower.  I eventually built up to 15 laps, which is 26.25 miles.  My pace per lap, however, had slowed to roughly 15 minutes per lap.

My 26.25-mile training run took 3:44:32.  That was in summer heat.  I knew by then that 3:15 wasn’t a realistic goal, but I still thought I could run a marathon in 3:30.  The race wasn’t until October, and by then, the weather would likely be much cooler.

In August, I was as ready as I was going to be.  Unfortunately, I had peaked too soon.  My longest training run was eight weeks before the race.  After that, I got complacent.  By early October, I had taken it easy for far too long.

Two friends, who were also co-workers, were also training for this race.  It was also going to be their first marathon.  Randy and John did their long training runs together.  I mostly trained on my own, but I joined them for one of their long training runs.  I stayed with them until we were close enough to home that I knew the way home.  Then I went ahead on my own.  At the time, we all assumed I would be faster in the marathon.

The start of the race was in downtown Minneapolis.  I remember getting a ride to the start from Randy.  As we rode to the start, we were listing to a mix tape that Randy made.  I can still remember two of the songs.  One was “Who Are You” by The Who.  The other was “Lightning Strikes” by Lou Christie.

I don’t recall where we parked, but we made our way to the start area, which was next to the Pillsbury Building in downtown Minneapolis.  Pillsbury was one of the major sponsors of the race.

The weather wasn’t as cool as I was expecting.  It was 63 degrees at the start.  That wouldn’t be so bad, but the dew point was also 63.  It was 100 percent humidity.  The fog was so dense that you couldn’t see more than two blocks.

They had signs showing us where to line up, based on the pace we expected to run.  They spaced these signs to get us to line up over several blocks.  The idea was to have the enough space between us that we would have room to run as soon as the gun went off.  I thought it worked well, but I’ve never seen that at any other large races.  At most large races, you’re packed in like sardines.

While I was waiting for the race to start, I recognized a runner who was a track star at the University of Minnesota.  I had seen him run 10K on a track at pace of roughly 4:40 per mile.  A race official asked him if he was willing to be a guide for a blind runner.  I don’t know if he had previous experience doing that, but he agreed to do it.

Before we started running, I heard the theme from “Chariots of Fire.”  That movie was still fairly recent, and that music had become an anthem for runners.

As we started running, I was just a short distance behind the blind runner and his guide.  They were running fast.  It amazed me that they could go that fast without bumping into people or tripping on a curb.  If I couldn’t see where I was going, I would be forced to run cautiously, even with a guide.

The route out of downtown was different than it is today.  I quickly established a pace that was fast enough to finish a marathon in 3:30.  At first, it felt deceptively easy.

I was roughly a mile into the race when I noticed that sweat was running down my arm and dripping from my wrist.  I didn’t realize yet how much the high humidity would take a toll on me.

As we left downtown Minneapolis, we turned onto Hennepin Avenue.  After running past the Walker Art Center, we turned onto Douglas Avenue to begin running toward Kenwood Park.

I had my keys in a small pocket on the back of my shorts.  That’s where I always kept them during training runs, and I had never had a problem before.  As I rounded the turn onto Douglas, I heard a clank and immediately reached back to feel my pocket.  The keys weren’t there.  There was a small hole at the bottom of the pocket.

I assumed the sound I heard was my keys hitting the pavement.  I stopped and got down on the ground to feel around for my keys.  I couldn’t see much, because I was right at the corner, with hundreds of runners all negotiating the turn.

I was on all fours.  I felt like I was swimming upstream with runners bumping into me and tripping over me.  That was stressful, but I found my keys.  After that, I had to carry them in my hand as I ran.

At this point, I was roughly two miles into the race.  The next eight miles were very similar to the current course.  We made a left turn at Kenwood Park.  Then we ran past three of the lakes in south Minneapolis.  The first one was Lake of the Isles.  That was followed by Lake Calhoun and Lake Harriet.  Along this part of the course, there were thick crowds on both sides of the street.

When we left Lake Harriet, were about seven miles into the race.  I was still averaging eight minutes per mile and feeling comfortable.

Next, we got onto the Minnehaha Parkway, which follows Minnehaha Creek.  This part of the course had a few small hills, but nothing too tiring.

When we ran under the Nicollet Avenue Bridge, there was a small brass band set up under the bridge.  They were playing the theme from “The Muppets.”

Somewhere along the parkway, I passed a runner who must have started earlier.  He had some type of disability, and he was running with crutches.  I could see the tremendous effort that he was putting into each step.  His face was bright red.  I couldn’t imagine doing that for 26.2 miles.

Randy’s girlfriend, Maggie, was watching for Randy at different points along on the course.  I was about 10 miles into the race when Maggie spotted me running along the Minnehaha Parkway and took this picture.

Maggie and I both worked in the same grocery store, so I knew I would see her again at work.  I ran over and handed her my keys.  I explained about the hole in my pocket, and I asked her to hang onto my keys and give them back to me the next time she saw me at work.  I had been holding those keys in my hand for eight miles.  It was a relief to get rid of them.

The current course includes a loop around Lake Nokomis.  The original route didn’t do that.  Instead, we continued along Minnehaha Parkway until we reached the Mississippi River.

I had read that it’s helpful to wear something with your name on it.  I didn’t have my name on my shirt, but I wore a mesh T-shirt with the maroon and gold colors of the University of Minnesota.  The word “Minnesota” was on the front.  At various times throughout the race, I heard shouts of “Go Minnesota” from the crowd.

From time to time, I heard music.  People in the crowd were playing music on boom boxes.  More than once, I heard the theme from “Rocky.”  One song that really resonated with me was “Break My Stride” by Matthew Wilder.  The chorus matched my mood perfectly:

“Ain't nothin' gonna break my stride.  Nobody gonna slow me down.  Oh no, I got to keep on moving.  Ain't nothin' gonna break-a my stride.  I'm runnin' and I won't touch ground.  Oh no, I got to keep on moving.”

Next, we followed the West River Parkway for about two and a half miles.  The current course continues north as far as the Franklin Avenue Bridge.  The original route crossed the river at Lake Street.  After that, the course was quite a bit different from the current route.  There were more miles in St. Paul, and there were some significant hills.

After crossing the river, Lake Street became Marshall Avenue.  I was still on Marshall Avenue when I reached the 14-mile sign.  I no longer felt fresh, but I was still on pace to finish in 3:30.

We followed Marshall as far as Fairview Avenue.  Then we turned right and headed south.  That’s when the wheels started to come off.  I had been running at an unsustainable pace.  On top of that, I had been sweating profusely since the start of the race.  Now, my legs were beginning to cramp.

The aid stations had water and ERG, which stood for energy replacement with glucose.  I was just drinking water, and it’s possible I was suffering from an electrolyte imbalance.

During my long training runs, I drank both water and orange juice.  I would start out drinking water, but I would switch to orange juice when I got sick of drinking water.  It didn’t occur to me at the time, but that may be why I never had cramping like this in my long training runs.  Orange juice is a good source of potassium.

I wasn’t at all familiar with the streets in this neighborhood, so I didn’t know how long I had been running south along Fairview.  The street names were all unfamiliar.  I missed one of the mile markers, so I went a long way without any sense of how far I had gone.

The course went all the way down to the Highland Park neighborhood.  As you might guess from the name, this part of St. Paul is hilly.  Coming back along Edgecumbe Road and Lexington Parkway, I struggled with the hills.  I was about 22 miles into the race when I finally broke down and started walking on one of the hills.

As I was walking, Randy caught up to me.  He had started at a slower pace, but he moved past me as I was walking.  Later, Randy told me how surprised he was to see me.  We both assumed I would be faster, but Randy paced himself more sensibly.

I forced myself to start running again, but I walked again on the next hill.  I was on my third long walking break when John passed me.  John was wearing a light-colored shirt, and there were two streams of blood running down the front of his shirt.  I had already learned to put band-aids over my nipples on long runs.  I’m sure it was painful, but he was still running.  I was walking.

I forced myself to run again, but I took one last walking break as I started the last mile of the race.  I was disappointed with my overall pace, but I realized I could still break four hours.  I made a guess of how long I could afford to walk before I would need to run the rest of the way.

We crossed the freeway on John Ireland Boulevard.  The current course finishes in front of the state capitol.  The original course made a turn in front of the capitol and then turned again onto Wabasha Street.  We crossed the freeway again and ran down a steep hill toward the finish line, which was near Dayton’s.

My sister, Betty, and her husband, John, were watching for me near the finish.  As I ran down that hill, Betty took a picture.

I finished with an official time of 3:59:39.  They didn’t use chip timing back then, so that time includes the time it took me to reach the starting line after the gun went off.  I didn’t start my watch until I crossed the starting line.  According to my watch, my actual time on the course was 3:59:18.

Betty and John gave me a ride home, but first we stopped for lunch at Pannekoeken Huis, which specialized in Dutch oven pancakes.  I had a pancake with strawberry topping.  I can still remember how the strawberry sauce made my mouth sting.  That’s when I realized I was badly dehydrated.

I used to always watch the Minnesota Vikings football games on Sundays.  They had a noon game that day, and I was anxious to get home before I missed too much of the game.  I remember they were playing the Dallas Cowboys.  I don’t remember who won.

The next time I went to work, I got my keys from Maggie.  I never used that pocket again.