October 9, 2011 was the date of the 34th Chicago Marathon. But who cares? The really important anniversary to celebrate was the 28th birthday of Sarah Coulam. If you don’t know Sarah, I’m sorry. She’s one of the nicest, sweetest, most giving people you’ll meet. On this day, it was my pleasure to be running a 26.2-mile loop of Chicago with her.
Just a week before, she had joined me in St. Paul, Minnesota, to run a portion of the Twin Cities Marathon. In our pre-race plan, she was to hop in with me at mile 21 and run for a couple of miles at my planned 7:37 pace, then give me a hearty “You’re doing great!” and pull off while I cruised to the finish line, smiling all the way to a great new personal record (PR).
It was a beautiful plan … until I screwed up the execution by starting much, much too fast. By the time I reached Sarah, I had not only hit the infamous “wall,” I had bounced off it and crumbled at its base. So rather than dumping me after two miles, she stuck with me till mile 26 when I could see the finish line, then she set me free so I could feel like I had conquered the race on my own. I know better. If not for her, the last five miles would have been ugly. Well … uglier.
In the starting corral with the Birthday Girl!
With that backdrop, I was determined to do everything possible to help her reach her goal of a 3:50 marathon, which would be a 4-minute PR for her. So as I stood in corral D, awaiting the start of my second marathon in seven days, I turned to Sarah and said, “Happy birthday!” At that point, I wasn’t sure how old she was: 28? 29? When she confirmed 28, I thought about my own approaching 50thbirthday and quickly realized I could be her dad. That was really just a minor detail though, because I already felt as proud and happy as a dad could be.
Sarah had wisely ironed “Birthday Girl” onto the front of her neon yellow singlet. Then she made a point of running on the edge of the pack so that people could easily see her. Very quickly, we realized she would be a popular attraction throughout the race. “Go, Birthday Girl!” and “Happy Birthday!” rang out every few seconds. After a handful of shouts, Sarah jokingly said, “I should keep track of how many times we hear that.” To a numbers-obsessed guy like me, that was both invitation and challenge. After one mile, 22 shoutouts; at two miles, 43. By 15 miles, we were up to at least 374 (I’m sure I missed many in the crushing cacophony of cheers).
And that’s when it all stopped.
As we crossed the halfway point at mile 13.1, I asked, “How you doing?” She said, “OK,” but admitted her stomach was upset. Shortly after 14, she said she need to find a portajohn. Even though I was watching for the red “toilet” signs, I missed the ones near the aid station at mile 15 … but Sarah saw them. She called out, “Bathroom” and thought I gave her the head-nod acknowledgement, but I hadn’t heard, and any nod was just a quirk of my running form. She peeled off the course just as the street widened to 6 full lanes with volunteers dispensing Gatrorade and water on both sides.
Spotting the Birthday Girl at mile 14 aid station.
If you’ve ever run a race of virtually any size or distance, you know how chaotic aid stations can be. People shouting, runners zig-zagging all over, trying to get refreshment and dodge fellow runners while being careful not to slip on the thousands of soggy crushed cups.
Seconds after we entered the aid zone, I turned to make sure Sarah was still on my shoulder, but she was gone. I ran backwards, scanning side-to-side: no Sarah. I stopped in the middle of the street and yelled for her: no Sarah. “Shit!” I said aloud, “How can you lose someone in fluorescent yellow?” I said to myself. To the end of the block I ran, where I could see the entire field as it made a hard right. After a couple of minutes, I decided to run ½ mile to where my wife, daughter and other cheering section were waiting. “Have you seen Sarah?” I yelled as they tried to hug me. “Yes, she was with you.” ARGH!
I waited as the 3:55 pace group leader ran by, then as the 4:00 leader passed. I must’ve missed her. We had been on a solid 3:50 pace for 15 miles. There’s no way she had dropped this far back.
I didn’t know what to do. Run back to where we separated? That seemed stupid as she must’ve been ahead by now. Run faster to try to catch up? I was already feeling the effects of running two marathons in a week. Could I possibly run fast enough to catch her? How long would it take? Should I pull out completely? This race was all about Sarah. What was in it for me? Besides, I had let her down. As her pacer, I had 2 simple tasks:
1. Stay with Sarah.
2. Get her to the finish on time.
I had failed both. Distraught, I decided to keep running in case she stopped or ran into trouble farther up the road. Little did I know she had also stopped, assuming I had also hit the portajohn. Most likely, we were both waiting at about the same time for about the same amount of time, then moving ahead in separated synchronicity. When we crossed the next timing mat, we were less than a minute apart, but it may as well have been from New York to Chicago because we didn’t have any clue where the other one was.
For about two miles, I ran much faster than we had been going, hoping I might catch up to her (not realizing she was still behind me). Just as I was thinking how futile that was, I passed a runner sitting all alone on the curb, clutching his right calf and grimacing in pain. With nothing to run for and having experienced a lot of calf issues in my last two marathons, I decided to double-back to help him. “Want me to push your toes?” I asked. Teeth gritted, he nodded. With one hand, I pushed his toes toward his body while the other hand massaged the back of his knotted calf. After a minute or so, he thanked me and said he was ready to go. As he tried to stand, his left calf seized. I pushed and massaged that one too till he said, “You go on. I’m just going to walk.”
Less than three miles later, I ran by a man who was prone in the middle of the Pilsen neighborhood street. As I glanced over, I saw he was a DetermiNation runner, so I doubled back yet another time to make sure he was okay. A couple of course officials were trying to get medical support on their walkie-talkies while another directed the approaching runners from stampeding over him. He was suffering severe leg cramps and heat exhaustion. I stood there several minutes, providing some shade to him, but there was really nothing I could do aside from be there and ask his name in case I found his family at mile 22, where he said they were waiting, or at the finish line tent. Eventually, with an ambulance on its way, I moved on.
About a mile later, I came upon another DetermiNation runner who was struggling. I recognized him from a DetermiNation meeting where I had spoken on Friday. He was nursing a bad ankle injury. “I think I’m going to drop out.” I agreed that would be wise and told him the next med tent was at the next mile marker. When we got there and I steered him over, he asked the medical staffer, “How far to the next med station?” She said, “One mile,” and Stan headed back on course.
Free beer at 23!
Despite my pleas for him to not push it, lest he injure himself more, he pushed on. I didn’t know whether to tackle him and drag him off to the side, or stand back and applaud wildly. I erred on the side of caution and did everything I could to convince him to stop. “You’ve given your all! No shame in stopping here! You’ll never be closer to the finish than right now!” And yet, he pushed on. When we met again an hour or so later in the DetermiNation tent, he wanted a photo with me, saying, “You’re a big reason why I’m here now.” I took that to mean he’s always been a rebellious type who just needed to be told, “You can’t do this.” Hey, he’s a classic DetermiNator.
At mile 23, once again running alone, I did something I’ve never done in a marathon but always wanted to do. I stopped and drank a beer. You know what? It was gooooood.
With 1.5 miles to go, I was coming up on a young man wearing the distinctive yellow and red singlet of the Hansons/Brooks Project, a training team of elite and nearly elite runners. I was on pace to finish in something over 4 hours, which meant he was having a really bad day if I was catching him. Suddenly, he stopped. He wasn’t cramping or collapsing, he was just mentally checked out. I wasn’t going to let him off that easily. “Come on!” I shouted, “This is all mental. You KNOW that! Let’s GO!” And he started to run again. Like an old-fashioned Asian husband, I stayed one step ahead and 1 step to his left, exhorting him on with shouts that alternatively challenged and encouraged him. From there, he ran every step the rest of the way to the finish line, at which point we … got separated.
In one race, I had lost two pacees. Worst … pacer … EVER!
Back at the DetermiNation tent, I began asking if anyone knew anything about Sarah. Had she finished? Was she still out there? Did her tummy hold up in the increasing heat? No one knew anything. After 20 minutes, there she was. We came together, hugged, sobbed on one another’s shoulder, and said, “I’m sooo sorry!” She felt guilty for losing me, and I of course knew I was at fault.
Running a marathon is largely a solitary activity, but we had taken it on together. When we drifted apart, it became difficult to hold it together. I compensated by finding other people to help. Sarah had to go it alone till mile 21 when another friend found her and escorted her for a few miles. But those miles from 15 to 21 were rough, mentally and physically. I’m proud of her for sticking with it. I hope she’ll give me a chance to redeem myself.
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11 comments
Maggie
October 11, 2011 at 9:59 pm (UTC -5)
I used to be involved with Relay For Life for the ACS, and I’ve been thinking that if I ever got up enough courage to run the Chicago Marathon, I would run with DetermiNation. Now that I see how awesome DetermiNation runners are, I’m pretty certain that I’ll do it!!
DP_Turtle
October 11, 2011 at 10:30 pm (UTC -5)
Thanks for the comment, Maggie. I recently attended a dinner that honored a few hundred Relayers and DetermiNators, and I have to say, there were a lot of great stories … and people … in that room. And it really made me want to do a Relay event one day!
When you’re ready to run with DNation, we’re here for you! I’ve been a part of the team for nine years now, and those years have been wonderful. After the marathon Sunday night, my wife and I were having dinner with some good friends who we’ve known for 8 years, and our friend said, “If it weren’t for DetermiNation, we wouldn’t all be here together right now.” We all met through DNation, and we’ve pulled each other through tough runs and tough times in life.
You supply the courage to run a marathon. We’ll supply the DetermiNation. Deal?!
Victoria
October 12, 2011 at 5:50 am (UTC -5)
Want to be a pacer on my birthday (RnR Sav)? I’m pretty sure my goal of sub 6 will give your #DNation shirt plenty of time to be read!!
great entry, David!
Ann
October 12, 2011 at 6:10 am (UTC -5)
Dave, big marathons are so hard for that. I am so sorry you lost Sarah but it sounds like there were other plans for you. If you hadn’t lost Sarah all of the others you helped along the way wouldn’t have had you for support. Great teamwork there Dave.
DP_Turtle
October 12, 2011 at 6:20 am (UTC -5)
Awwww, Victoria, HAPPY (upcoming) BIRTHDAY!!! Savannah is definitely on my list … just not this year. Sorry! When is your next “milestone” birthday? Maybe we can target that one! GOOD LUCK, have fun, enjoy the day!
DP_Turtle
October 12, 2011 at 6:26 am (UTC -5)
Thanks for the support, Ann. I think you’re right about there being different plans for me last weekend.
Brian R
October 13, 2011 at 8:47 pm (UTC -5)
Dave is my uncle for those who don’t know. We ran together for the first time in July 2008 when I first started this game. See Dave’s blog: http://www.turtlesagainstcancer.com/2008/07/its-all-relative/
In November 2009, I ran my first half where Dave paced me. It took 3:10 for us get through it. All I can say, I was very fast at the beginning and died at mile 8. But, Dave got me to the finish.
A year later, Dave paced me again in Memphis where we crossed the finish in 2:03:36. I was elated that this was 4 minute PR! The great time for me was that I did it with Dave by my side the whole time – cheering, yelling and pleading.
All in all, the bonus is looking back and knowing that my Uncle helped me through emails, calls and notes. For me, becoming a runner, not a jogger was motivation for me to improve. Thanks Dave! You’re Awesome!
DP_Turtle
October 13, 2011 at 9:13 pm (UTC -5)
Awww, man, you’re making me get all verklempt! It’s been great watching you go from a gasping 15-minute-per-mile guy to one who is now a month out from his first marathon. I’m so very, very proud of you for the effort you’ve put into getting healthy, and I look forward to every run we do together. Thanks for your wonderful comments!
Jordan Trump
October 14, 2011 at 9:39 am (UTC -5)
Haha, what a great race recap! Chicago is a big race… and definitely very confusing, especially in the time group you were in! I think your words of encouragement and good deeds made up for losing a pacee… hopefully Sarah will forgive you!
DP_Turtle
October 14, 2011 at 10:21 am (UTC -5)
Jordan, you know how crazy those Chicago aid stations are! I’m happy to report Sarah has forgiven me – she asked if I’d be up for giving it another go next year.
Nancy Cook
October 19, 2011 at 8:26 am (UTC -5)
Hey — wanna pace me in Boston?
You rock — your heart and giving nature is ALL over this post. #Rockstar — glad you are in my “world” — and thanks for all the encouragement and help you give to others….. I am just so focused I never think to stop and help. Glad you do. Or did. 
Even though you lost both of them — you still rock.