The Marathon I Won

I��ll be running my eighth marathon on Sunday. This one is for��charity, not time – I��m no speedster anyway. No, my training got derailed for obvious reasons and my waistline has expanded with all the cookies that have been delivered of late �� not a good combination for running success.

I stood on the scale in horror yesterday as the digital readout spoke lies to me. I want to go back to the days of the rolling number wheel that looked so cheap and inaccurate you could truly rationalize it being off by 5-7 pounds. Modern scales reflect the downside of the affordability of precision electronics.

The situation brought to mind the first time I ran the Georgia Marathon in 2007.

I won it!

You heard that right, I broke the tape for the marathon.

In late 2005, I reached a plateau. It wasn��t a good plateau, it was a large one. I��ve always been a big lug, but the responsibilities of a father with four young children had led to an unhealthy weight. When the children (who caused the problem) see pictures of that time period, they call me ��Fat Daddy��. Yes, my size 40 pants got tight and I made the decision that I wasn��t going to buy size 42��s. So I joined a gym, dieted, and found that I really enjoyed running.

After losing some weight, I saw an announcement of the inaugural Georgia Marathon and decided to set my sights on running the half-marathon. I got my training plan, ran four days a week, and bought all of the necessary paraphernalia including some snazzy running belts (fanny packs) that my children adore. By the time March 2007 rolled around, I was ready. My goal: 2 hours.

I lined up in coral G and watched in excitement as the flares went up and the gun sounded the beginning of the race. It took a little while to get into my stride, but I soon found my pace and settled in. Noting the split at mile 6, I made sure to turn left with the other half-marathoners, laughing at the few lonely souls going straight for twenty more miles. Through ten miles, I ran well until hitting a rather stout hill on mile 11. Once that was behind me, some mental calculations told me that I had a shot at��my goal time.

I gave it my all. I pushed, grunted, and strained toward the finish. Finally, I saw it �� the finish line. Just when it came into view, a roar came over the crowd. I looked around and didn��t see other runners around me.

This is really nice, I thought. They��re cheering for me!

I heard the announcer say something garbled – I guessed it was my name.

How’d they know my name? Must be the bib number.

I saw two people in official garb run a tape across the road.

Wow, that��s cool. A tape for me. Do they know it��s my first time?

Being the subject of such adoration was slightly embarrassing. Still, I lifted my arms to the crowd��s delight.

This is amazing! I wonder if they do this for everyone!

The same two officials who had run the tape across were now flailing wildly and seemed to be waving me off. Just after I broke the tape, I turned to see a group of very thin, insanely fit men barreling towards me. ��Yes, at the exact time I finished my 13.1 miles, the professions finished their 26.2. I got a haughty look from the guy who rightfully should have broken the tape. Jealous, I suppose.

Although I might have been in the wrong place, I can forever say that I got to the finish line first!