Today's Sunday, and yesterday morning Mark decided that he was going to run a half-marathon last night. (I hope you were able to follow that.) I was shocked and surprised, but decided to just be a supportive spouse and tell him "You Can Do It!"... especially because I've loved chasing friends around who have run the Chicago or Louisville marathons. We run 2-3 miles a few times a week, but I know the guy hadn't run over six in quite awhile.We arrived at the Mirador Sur Park and saw lots of muscle-beach-type Dominicans in running shorts and eating pre-race popcicles. At best, at 4:30pm, it was about 92 degrees not including humidity. I was sweating just standing there for about thirty seconds, let alone run a stinking 13-miler. There was no breeze. There was little water. There were no other English-speakers in sight. And Mark didn't get there in time to get a t-shirt.
I found the race map, which Mark had never even seen prior to arriving, to chart out a few places I could catch up with him. He looked cool in his orange Nike shorts (yes, for those of you who are family or have been one of his roommates, you know the ones I'm talking about) and a light blue Nike shirt. He was really cute.
Anyway, Mark told me if I didn't see him at the finish line by 7pm that I should start to get worried. He had placed a 50 peso bill in the bottom of his shoe in case something happened and he either needed a ride or a phone call. We're not talking any of this fancy track-you-friend-mile-by-mile technology stuff... we're talking the old days, pre-cell phone and a small bill in a pocket in case something happened.
Anyway, 7pm passed and well, I started to get worried. I noticed there were a lot of ambulances rushing people away from the race site and most of the people (even the ones who looked like they were in really good shape) were walking the final three kilometers. The heat was torturing people... and there was a sticky humid rain in the middle of the race that made it feel even grosser... and the people in charge of the race had run out of water (can you stinkin' believe that?) at all of the last the water stations.
Whatever the case may be, I had never looked so hard for a my tall white husband in my life at that finish line. When I finally saw his grimacing face about 1/4 kilometer away from the finish line, I ran to him and finished the very last steps to the finish line with him. He was in bad shape, but finished a half-marathon without training. What a psycho, but I'm still proud of him. The people at the finish line were congratulating him in Spanish and put a medal around his neck.
Mark is now an international marathon runner, cool, huh? :)
4 comments:
Mark,
You are a crazy dude! I hope you're not too sore after that...but I think you probably will be! : )
--Amy
Yes, I know the shorts. I've washed them hundreds of times. Stephanie, you are an amazing wife, and Mark, you are crazy. We really thought that you'd learned a lesson on top of Pierce Chapel, but apparently not. Anyway, we're glad you survived and trust that you've rehydrated by now. What was the motivation for this?
Love you still!
Mom/Judi
What do you think your body temp was at the end of the race? 104? 105? I'm glad you made it, but the only time I ran 13 miles was after I had been running 35 miles a week for about five years!
What will your next exploit be ?!?
Love,
Dad
Let me just clarify one item, I definitely didn't run the whole race. And yes I finished, but just barely. I kind of ran 2/3, walked 1/3 the second half of the race. And Dane, yes the orange short live on!
-Mark
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