Baltimore Marathon, 15 October 2005

Blog by Amy Morrow Funk

Thursday, October 13

After an busy afternoon in Towson, Abby & I headed down to Ravens Stadium in Baltimore for the Expo where we were to pick up our race packets for the running festival on Saturday. We took the long way, driving around in circles until 5:00 but we finally parked and began the long packet pickup procedure. As we passed the GEICO pace group desk, I noticed that the slowest pace group had a goal of finishing in 5 hours. If I were to start out with them, I would not start out too fast and would have a better chance of meeting my own goal of a 6 hour finish. I registered with the 5 hour group planning to begin the race and maybe even go halfway with them at an 11:30 minute mile pace.

We had gotten our bibs and my chip and were purchasing some GU when a man behind me commented on my hair. I smiled and patted it and said, "It's coming back!" He gave me a knowing look and said, "My wife is going through chemotherapy now."

"How is she doing with it?" I asked.

"She's doing great! How about you? Are you running this weekend?"

"Yes. I'm doing the full marathon."

"Good for you!"

"Well, I know it won't beat my personal best..."

"Hey, you've never run one like this before. Whatever you do will be your after cancer best!" He patted my shoulder.

"You know, you're right!" I smiled. "It will be my PCPB, post cancer personal best!"

With many wishes for good luck from him and his coworkers at the Falls Road Running Store booth, I continued toward the shirt pickup. On my way, the Mid-Atlantic Active Survivors Network booth caught my eye. We picked up my shirt and returned. The Active Survivors Network is a virtual community of survivors of catastrophic illness or injury who have used physical fitness and healthy exercise to aid in their rehabilitation and recovery. (activesurvivor.org) After a lengthy conversation about the benefits of physical fitness for all, the man asked if I were a survivor. I told him yes and that I was running the full marathon on Saturday. He asked if I had registered as a survivor. When I told him I hadn't, he asked if I would allow him to alter my registration. I gave permission and he said to stop by his booth after the race to see where I placed among the survivors. I got a copy of the magazine, thanked him, and moved on.

Friday, October 14

In preparation for Saturday morning, I laid out my marathon gear. I have a marathon shirt that I've worn for the other three marathons that I've run. It is a Y t-shirt that I've made sleeveless and to which I pin my race number. On the front is my name and on the back at the bottom is "Remind me to have fun" which has helped a lot when the people passing me have actually done it. This year on the back at the top I added "Running from cancer since January 2005."

Saturday, October 15

The stars are brilliant at 6:00 AM as Chris, Abby, & I climb into his car. We stop briefly at Royal Farms to buy coffee and for me to use the bathroom. The morning dawns cool and clear during our uneventful drive to Stadium Lot F. We've timed our arrival perfectly; there is virtually no line at the parking lot port-a-pot. I am surprised at the lack of odor and the presence of toilet paper. We walk to the runner's bag check area and I stuff my long pants and jacket into my bag. The GU that I can't fit into my running shorts key pocket I give to Abby. Then it is time to move toward the start.

As we walk up the shoot, we notice a guy with a mini-backpack and 2 water bottles with straws on the front. He is otherwise dressed to run in shorts and a singlet. As Chris and I look to each other with "What's up with that guy?" and "Come on, buddy, there is course support out there" expressions, he passes us and we read the sign on the back of his pack "Training for Ultimate 7 day Marathon thru Sahara Desert April 8-15, 2006." Chris and I exchange a "Well, alright then" expression and laugh.

We stop in the bathroom one last time. As we near the starting line, I hear a voice calling my name. I turn around to see a friend of a friend Michele Firlie. We laugh at how unlikely it is for us to actually run into each other. I ask her what her goal is. She says, "3:25"

"Well, I'm glad I saw you now, " I say giving her a hug, "'cause I won't see you again!"

We wish each other good luck and move to the corrals. Then Chris points to a pony-tailed man. "Isn't that the blacksmith from the Piney Run Apple Festival?" he asks. Abby & I agree that it does look like him so I say to him, "Excuse me, what do you do when you're not running marathons?"

"I'm a blacksmith," he answers.

"Yes, you are!" I exclaim. We explain how we recognize him from Piney Run. He tells us that after the marathon, he has to drive to the Pennsylvania Renaissance Festival and work the forge. We wish him good luck and a safe drive and move on back.

The announcer calls for runners to get into the street. Chris and Abby give me kisses and head to the other side of the start line to give me a big cheer on my way by. I search the mob for the yellow-shirted pacers.

There is a good crowd of 15 or so runners grouped around the 5:00 sign. Several of them are wearing the purple Team In Training gear. I also see some runners in the gold of the National Aids Foundation Training Program. Those who sign up for the pace groups pin their goal times on their backs. Many of these 5:00 hopefuls have also written their names. That is how I meet Joanne.

Joanne is a tall African-American woman with powerful quads, bright eyes, and a wide dimpled smile. This is her first marathon and she is excited. She wears a white shirt, black running tights, and a red cap anchored in place by her hair in a bun.

Our official pacers are Jim & Jonathon and a woman whose name I never learned. Jim & Jonathon both look as if they spend more time drinking beer than running but I learned early in my "racing career" that you cannot tell a person's running ability by their appearance. I trust these folks to keep me at 11:30 minute miles and I will stay with them as long as I can. I hope to stick with the group through the first half and if I have to walk the second half, so be it.

The race begins with a bull horn and a shot of confetti. We cheer and stand still. Slowly we start to walk. Spirits are high and people are happily hopeful. After strolling slowly for about two minutes, we cross the starting line activating our timing chips and begin to jog.

Chris is just lifting Abby onto his shoulders when I spot them and move to the side to give a high five. Chris calls, "What are you doing? You're already ahead of pace! Your pacer's back there!" And he is correct. The pacer with the 5:00 sign is behind us but Jim & Jonathon are even with us to our left. So far we're on pace.

The first 3-4 miles is uphill toward Druid Hill Park. We are so excited that we hardly notice the incline. By mile 3 our pacers start telling us to settle back. We have begun too quickly and are now a minute ahead. Jonathon says that he needs to pee so he is going to run ahead and don't follow! In these first few miles, there is a bit too much discussion of urinary situations for my taste so Joanne and I keep each other engaged in conversation.

She has just finished her PhD in physiology this year and has decided that it is a good year for her first marathon too. We discuss running styles, physical efficiency, and symptoms of fatigue for the next few miles. The pacers are telling us that we are ahead of pace but by my watch we are dead on. By the time we come downhill toward the harbor, we are, even by my watch, three minutes ahead.

The spectators are very supportive. After a couple of different groups have cheered for me by name, Joanne says, "Man, I should have put my name on the front!" A few strides ahead of us, Jack obviously has his name on his shirt as we repeatedly hear cheers of "Go, Jack!"

At mile 5 we are greeted by two women whose outrageous Bawlmer costumes, signs, and shouts of "Lookin' good, hon!" have landed them on the front page of the Maryland section of the Baltimore Sun. They bring smiles to the faces of runners and spectators alike. The police officer directing traffic just shakes his head.

At mile 6, we are running by the starting line of the half marathon. Not many runners are lining up yet at 9:06 since the half marathon starts at 9:45 but the band is playing and my friend Tally is blowing up balloons and loading the confetti shooters. She see me a second before I see her and a second after I've told Joanne who I'm looking for. Tally yells to me that I'm looking great and I tell her that I'm a little ahead of pace but feeling good. I hope that she will see Chris & Abby at some point.

I'm also looking for Nancy Doran & her daughter Amanda, both of whom will be running the half, but it is too early for them. I do not see Jeff Tabak, a Gerstell dad & half-marathon runner. I know that if I don't see them now, I won't see them today so I mentally wish them good luck. Joanne & I head into Federal Hill on our way to Fort McHenry.

At mile 8-9, runners going out to Fort McHenry are passed by runners returning. These out-and-back sections are some of my favorite parts of the course because it gives the runners a chance to cheer each other on. It is still early in the race so everyone is looking good, looking strong; they still like to hear it. As I cheer for those runners ahead of me, I find my own pace increases. It is a lot of fun to see them smile and pick it up a little bit after hearing their name or number!

Mile 10 is a loop around the fort itself. There are sail boats and fishing boats on the water. A park ranger is strolling through the grass against the flow of runners, nodding encouragement. The breeze that cools us whips the flag against the clear blue sky. This is by far the most picturesque mile of the whole marathon.

At mile 11 I notice a line-free port-a-pot and decide to take advantage of it. Joanne says I'll probably catch up to her later. I tell her I'll try. We are now about 4-5 minutes ahead of our pace time but are no longer picking up time. We have settled into a good pace. When I get to mile 12, I see that I've lost only 1 minute so I'm still 4 minutes ahead of pace. I notice one of the 5:00 pacers hanging out on the sidewalk by the Mile 12 sign. This confuses me because I haven't seen or heard from Jim or Jonathon in 6 miles or more. How did these pacers get here ahead of me? It remains a mystery.

At mile 13 I see Chris & Abby. I stop to give each a kiss and to hear quickly about Abby's fun run. I'm going well, feeling good, and running early. Through Fell's Point I run with a couple of the Team In Training 5:00 runners, Donna & Kristen. A man passes me and calls over his shoulder, "Good for you! I'm a survivor too." I thank him and tell him he is running strong. Then I think how young he looks and I send him a quick prayer.

At mile 15 I see Joanne. "Dr. Jo, what do you know?" I call to her. She groans and says, "I'm feeling it!" I remind her to keep her head up. She reminds me to keep my shoulders relaxed. About that time, a group cheers, "Go, Amy! You're looking good!" I point to Joanne and yell to the crowd, "This is Joanne!" They respond beautifully with hoots & shouts of "Way to go, Joanne! You're running strong, Joanne! Woohoo, Joanne!" Joanne laughs and shakes her head. "It helps, doesn't it?" I ask. She nods, "It sure does."

By now the sun is stronger and the breeze has picked up into a wind. We are starting the toughest part of the marathon route, the hills. Joanne is beginning to struggle but we are still 5 minutes ahead. At mile 16, I point out, "In 2 hours, we'll be finished!" Joanne smiles; 2 hours sounds like a very long time!

Through miles 17 & 18, I am a little bit in front so I recruit a series of pep squads for Joanne. Anytime I see a group of people close to the road, I describe what she's wearing and ask them to cheer loudly using her name. When she catches me at the water stop, she laughs and says, "Girl, you're crazy!" I smile and answer, "Maybe, but you're running better!" She agreed and we continued through the hills.

At mile 19, the spectators thin and I lose all sight of Joanne. The hills have taken a lot out of me and I do a shot of GU only to discover that the water stop is out of water. All they have is Gatorade. I cannot imagine a worse combination than GU and Gatorade so I pass through the stop without taking anything. The GU feels like it is caked to my esophagus; I cannot seem to take deep enough breaths. I still have 3 minutes to spare so I power walk instead of running. I know I will be fine if I can just get a few sips of water. I begin eyeing the water bottles in the half-marathon walkers' fanny packs.

Mile 20-21 are over another out-and-back section. The street here has a wide median but when I spy a neighborhood woman handing out bottles of water, I quickly cross the street just in time to reach out as she hands her last bottle to a half-marathon walker. Oh, the injustice! I recross the street to where I belong, struggling up yet another hill. (This "hill" would not be considered a hill at all except that it is 20 miles into the course.) After the turnaround, there is a fully stocked water stop with Gatorade and GU and pretzels and bananas. I take water and GU but only ingest the water. I save the GU for later. We complain a bit to each other about the lack of water at 19. I am still walking at this point so as to drink all the water I need. I have never mastered the run & swallow trick. I can walk and swallow adequately but when I try to run & swallow, I end up with water all over me instead o f in me; what I can get in me tends to go to my lungs instead of my stomach. Anyway...

I keep looking at the other side of the road and finally I see her. Joanne is walking but walking quickly. I give her a big cheer and she waves enthusiastically. "We're walking now, " I call, "but we will run over the finish line!" She nods and waves again.

Another first time marathoner tells me of her knee injury. She thinks she'll probably just walk the rest of the way. Her friend catches up to her and they continue to discuss meniscus and cartilage and whether to have surgery or not. I look at my watch. It is barely 12:00. I have walked most of the last few miles but I actually have a chance to finish this marathon in 5 hours. I begin to jog.

Mile 22-23 through Waverly are full of spectators with a party attitude. They have gummy bears and loud music; multiple generations are there in strollers, wheelchairs, and lawn chairs, cheering and waving and dancing. This is where you think you might make it after all. These miles start to be fun again, at least for a little while. At the Mile 23 marker we tell ourselves and each other that it's just a 5K left.

By mile 24, it really is all downhill to the finish. The Bawler ladies are here again yelling, "Amy, you still look good, hon!" The police officers are clapping and telling us, "You got this thing!" The bridge by the Maryland Institute College of Art feels like a hill so I walk the incline but run the decline and keep running.

At mile 25, a runner yells, "I see the stadium!" There are answering cheers and affirmations. I look at my watch. I am one minute behind pace. I can do it! The lady on the sidewalk has a sign that says so, "You Can Do It!" I've seen her and her sign about three times throughout the day. I take it personally and pick up my pace.

The marathon finish passes between Camden Yards and the warehouse. As I enter this section, the wind whistles through the buildings and knocks me back a bit. My watch indicates that I will finish very close to 1:00. I put my head down a little, relax my shoulders, and pick up the pace.

As I enter the last 385 yards, I hear the announcer, "You've got a minute and a half to break five hours. Come on, fans! Let's cheer these runners on." I pick up my pace. I'm going to do it, I'm going to finish in under five hours! The crowd, even this late, is loud; everyone is pulling for us! I don't even bother to ask myself why I have this much of a kick at the end; I know that my speed has nothing to do with training or red blood cells or hydration or carbo-loading. This is all faith and prayers, positive mental attitude and heart, the good thoughts, wishes, and support of family & friends & people I don't even know!

As the camera snaps and I cross the finish line, the clock reads 4:58. I am thrilled. I had planned on being content with finishing in 6 hours. For once I feel that I reached my full potential. On this day, in this race, I truly did my best. I receive my finisher's medal and stand still while the chip is removed from my ankle. I accept the foil blanket but do not need it. I stretch a little and get a banana & watered down Gatorade. I see Jack cross the finish line and congratulate him. I see my friend Klaus from the Y. Oh, dear, I think, if he is behind me, he did not have a good race at all. I offer him condolences. I get my free beer coupons and return to the finish line but I do not see Joanne. Although I continue to keep an eye out for her, I never do see her again.

As I move toward the exit, I see Chris and start to tear up. He gives me a kiss and I give him a little sob. "This one meant a lot to me" is all I can say. As I stretch a little more, a woman comes up to me. "I saw the back of your shirt," she says. "I'm an oncology nurse. I just want to say congratulations." I thank her for her kind words and for what she does. Then I remember the Active Survivors Network. After changing into dry clothes, I ask Abby & Chris if we can stop by the booth.

The man from the Expo is not there; instead, the booth is staffed by a woman. She has posted the most recent results list and my name is the last one on it. It shows my clock time as 4:58 and my chip time as 4:56:16. My pace is a little over 11 minute miles. As I collect literature from the table to share with Dr. Donegan on Tuesday, she says, "Wait a minute." She double checks the results. "I thought so," she nods as she shuffles through her materials. "You get a certificate." She writes down the information from the results list, then hands me a certificate which reads "Mid-Atlantic Survivor Championships October 15, 2005 Women's Marathon Runner-Up Amy Funk 4:56:16".

I may just buy that finish line picture this year!