Sunday morning was the marathon, and so Mer and I were up early (around 4:30, I think). Since the race started at the oddly specific time of 7:03, I wanted to get there a little before 6:00, which meant leaving around 5:00. We made it out the door on time, and we got to Birmingham a little before 6:00. To my great delight, we quickly found on-street parking that was only two or three blocks from the starting line. That is an advantage to a smaller marathon (there were about 5500 total runners for Birmingham, counting the half-marathon).
We walked to the starting area, and took advantage of the port-o-johns (several times, with my usual pre-race jitters). It was quite cold – only twenty-eight degrees, and I while I was smart enough to leave my sweatshirt on, I had taken my sweatpants off in the car, leaving my shorts-clad legs to deal with the cold. I did not care about my sweatshirt, so I was not concerned if it got lost at the start of the race, but I did want to keep my sweatpants. It turned out that Mer and I were able to maintain contact up to the beginning of the race, so I could have kept my sweatpants on. Ah, well. It meant some pre-race shivering.
I’m not sure if it was an indication of laid-back southern habits, but in the northern marathons I have run, runners are in the starting chute forty-five to sixty minutes before the race starts. I got into the nearly-empty chute about thirty minutes before 7:00, and there was almost no one in the chute. It was disconcerting. With about fifteen minutes to go, the chute began to fill, and with ten minutes to go, the chute was crammed with walkers and slower runners trying to make their way to the back of the line against a sea of unyielding bodies. I have to admit that this annoyed me somewhat, especially when I spent the first two to three miles dodging these slower runners who lined up way too close to the front (race etiquette says you should line up according to your anticipated race pace, which is handily posted along the chute; sadly, many people ignore these things).
The wheelchair racers started at 6:53, to an abrupt-sounding command of “go” over the PA system. We had a similar blunt command at 7:03 that was odd to me. Usually, in all the races I have run as an adult, we start them with a playing of the national anthem. The lack of music made the start seem rushed. Mer gave me a kiss and wished me well and headed off to a vantage point at about mile two on the course.
I won’t go into great detail about the whole race. It is a 13.1-mile loop, done twice by those running the full marathon. The course is quite spectator-friendly in the downtown area, where runners can be easily seen two or three times on each loop. Once the race leaves downtown, spectators get a bit sparser, although I was pleased that there were some spectators along much of the race. The race goes up a slight, but long, series of hills from miles 18 through 24. I did not notice them at all on the first lap, but they finally forced me to walk at mile 22 on the second lap. I ended up walking about 1.5 miles of the last four miles of the race, which was too bad. I was on track for a personal best time (of 3:28) up through mile 22, and that slipped away as my legs gave in to fatigue. I ended up with my third-fastest (out of ten) marathon time, just edging 3:36 at an official time of 3:35:54.
Mer was a great sport, as she stood around and cheered me along. She saw me start, and then saw me twice more on the first loop. She saw me at the end of the loop, and then again on the course, and finally a few hundred yards from the finish. It is remarkable that anyone would get up at 4:30 on a weekend to go and stand in the cold for four hours.
After the race, I met up with Meredith, and she walked and I hobbled back to the car. We drove back to Kelly and Paul’s house, stopping for some candy bars along the way so I could get a little food back into my system. Kelly and Paul and family were going to a dinner party at a friend’s house at 2:00. Mer decided to go along, but I passed, as I did not feel up to it. Instead, I slept for a few hours before limping downtown to eat at a Waffle House and then a Coldstone Creamery. I met everyone back at home, and I made a quick peanut butter dessert for my sister, who loves peanut butter. I got to read a story to WCNep before he went to sleep, and I got to wind up WCN before her mother told her she had to calm down and go to sleep. Mer and I passed the short remainder of the evening chatting with Kelly.
In the morning, I caught Paul just before he left for work. Mer and I went along with Kelly and the kids as she took them to school. We got to see the schools and classrooms of the kids, and said goodbye to them. Kelly then took us to Another Broken Egg, a breakfast place right on the river. It had a pretty view and great food, and the only slight downside was that we had to leave at 9:30 to make our flight in Atlanta; that meant we had to rush breakfast a bit more than we would have cared for.
The drive back to Atlanta was less tedious than the drive in the dark on Friday had been, but it was still less than riveting. We returned the rental car with happy efficiency, and we were at out gate a little over an hour before the plane was supposed to take off. That gave me time to get a crepe for Mer as a dessert treat. I found the crepe-making process fascinating to watch, to the extent that I bought a crepe-maker when I got home. I’m looking forward to trying it out.
Our flight to the Akron-Canton Airport was smooth and on time, and we were able to walk to our car in the “remote” lot (one of the great joys of the small regional airport). Since we were south of home, we decided to swing through Hartville to go to the Hartville Kitchen, an excellent Mennonite restaurant, where we both ended up eating too much.
It was certainly a whirlwind tour, but it had been a great trip to Alabama. I wish Kelly and her family lived closer, but I am grateful we have been able to see them twice in the last twelve months.