It was so cute to watch the mascots for the Tigers and the Lions dancing in front of each starting wave. Then the horn would sound and each wave would take off. This is when I have pangs of regret for volunteering. I want to be out there crossing the starting line! I feel wistful when I see runners approaching the finish line, too. I want to be finishing a race! It’s that middle hell that holds less appeal.
It was so thrilling to watch each wave of racers go by. There were the young stallions up in front, eyes focused straight ahead while trying to reign in their desire for speed. I thought, “Hey, they’re running too fast. I thought that you were supposed to start out slow for a marathon.”. Then I realized that they were… it’s just that their slow pace is my sprint pace.
Some racers were crazy enthusiastic as they began (I didn’t see any of that at the end). They would hoot and holler as they ran by and slap hands with the volunteers lining the course. Others had looks of dread or determination on their faces but when they’d catch our eyes and see us cheering for them, they’d smile.
Because this was a 5K and a Half and a Marathon (and another Half) there were finishers the entire eight hours that we were there. Whew, eight hours. I was on the course longer than any runner. Granted, I wasn’t running but I was on my feet the entire time, hoisting cartons of bottled water and moving tables. No lie, my muscles are sore today! I’m going to tell folks, “Yep, I’m a little stiff today. I did the Detroit Marathon yesterday.”. (Notice I won’t say that I ran it, but man, I earned some props.)
We cheered off the last wave of marathoners and then turned around to see the first 5Kers finishing. There were still 5Kers finishing when the Half Marathoners began arriving. There may even have been 5Kers finishing when Marathoners arrived. There were some really slow 5Kers! God bless ‘em for getting out there.
But that’s not where the stories are. The drama arrived with the Marathoners. Most Half finishers looked tired but in a good way. They had completed a major accomplishment and you could see the pride and relief on their faces. You could tell that they had trained well, were prepared, had given it their all and would eventually recover and enjoy the heck out of the rest of the day.
It was nice that the bibs were color coded based on the distance raced. Half Marathoners had red bibs. Full Marathoners had blue… unless it was your first marathon and then your bib was green. I was impressed by everyone but the ones with the green bibs got major kudos from me.
Here are a few highlights of what I witnessed as I handed out water and heat sheets…
· Soon after the marathoners began arriving a man in the crowd grabbed my arm and said, “Someone over by that building needs medical assistance!”. I ran across the street to summon the medics, who grabbed a stretcher, attended to the person and called an ambulance.
· We had given a woman her medal, some Gatorade and a heat sheet. She was walking down the block weaving from side to side, like she had too much to drink. I ran and put my arm around her and led her to the medical tent.
· A man was crouched over a garbage can vomiting. We covered him in several heat sheets and then led him to the medical tent. (I was so glad that the medical tent was right across from me!! This was no little first aid stand. It looked like a MASH unit!)
· People would holler, “Hey Jennifer! Where’s the… after party/reunion area/MGM casino/Ren Cen/etc…”. First of all, I forgot that my name tag was on the back of my shirt so I was always startled that someone knew me. But second of all, I didn’t even know where I was… let alone anything else city related. I could tell folks to keep walking down the block to get to the food and I knew right where the medical tent was, but that’s about it.
· I assisted many runners whose legs were cramping up. They could not walk one more step. (But you know that if the finish line was 50 yards further down, they still would have finished by the sheer force of their will.) It was terrible to see these folks in crippling pain and not be able to fix it right then. All I could do was… wait for it… run to the medical tent and the medics would come with a wheelchair.
· It was a privilege to be right there wrapping a blanket around a runner who was just realizing what she had done. She did it. She ran a marathon. By the time they got down to where I was, the tears had started. I lost track of the number of times I tied a blanket around a runner and said, “Please tell me that these are happy tears? Yes? Good, because you are a rock star, sweetheart! You did it! This pain is temporary but the pride will last forever. No one will ever be able to take this from you.”
· One woman was standing alone in the street and beginning to cry. I brought her a blanket and gave her my same speech. She said, “I’ve lost 220 pounds to run this race.”. Well… I began crying right along with her! We hugged and I gushed about how freaking AMAZING she is and how I run three miles and feel like collapsing and look at her running a marathon!!
· There were a few funnier moments. Sometimes runners had their hands full with Gatorade cups so we would wrap the blankets around them and then tie them in front. A few guys seemed to enjoy having a woman get so close and would grin and say in a sultry voice, “Why, thank you, Jennifer.”. Or maybe that was just their voice from being exhausted.
· After seven hours the course officials began to take down the tables and stuff. But there were still runners coming in, so my son and I stuck around to make sure that they got their fluids and heat sheets. Two of the very last ones to finish were a married couple smiling and holding hands. She was joking that they were last and I said, “Yeah, you know what we call folks who finish last? Finishers!”. They were adorable.
· There’s a man on the front page of Section F in Sunday’s Detroit Free Press. He’s a former runner with cancer and his family was running to support him. I got to tie a blanket around his shoulders.
In re-reading this, I feel like this report doesn’t even begin to describe all that I saw and all of the emotions evoked. It affected me deeply. The next morning I went out to run my town’s 5K course… the course that I half walked back in August. I told myself, “Think of this as your DQ. You hear of folks who BQ. Well, Boston is never in your future but Detroit could be… maybe. But you’ve been training for four months and if you can’t run the entire 5K by now, give up any idea of ever doing a marathon.”
But why would I even want to run a marathon?? I always thought that it was crazy. Until Sunday, I would always swear up and down that a marathon is not in my future. A Half, maybe. But I was changed on Sunday. I’m different today.
I saw such depth of human experience and emotion. These runners… many who look just like me… took on an enormous challenge, worked for it and accomplished it. I want to BE one of those people. I want that sort of pride that can never be taken away.
As I ran the 5K course I thought of the woman who had lost 220 pounds. I thought of the many racers who broke down in tears in my arms. I thought of the couple at the very end. And I ran that entire damn course… even the hill that used to scare me. I ran the entire way and I felt like I could have kept running.
So I’m in. Detroit Free Press – Talmer Bank Marathon… October 20, 2013.
Then she wrote me the most touching message I've ever recieved:
