
Chapter 9
I finished my marathon!
Not in the time I was hoping for, but I finished nonetheless, and my first-time journey has come to an end.
What day it was! As predicted, steady rain developed overnight, and continued into the pre-dawn hours when I arrived at the race start, outside the Pentagon. Thousands and thousands of people congregated there – some to listen to a pre-dawn prayer service, others to go through their pre-race routines.
Like me, many were wearing garbage bags to stay dry for as long as possible. For good measure, I wore bags over my running shoes, but they still got quite wet by start time. For good luck, I wore my Needham Running Club cap, and my Needham July 4th tee shhirt – bright lime green, so my family would might find me in the crowd more easily.

The National Anthem was an emotional moment, as the imminence of my goal was apparent. By the start time, the rain had tapered down to nearly nothing, and soon there was no rain at all for the first 60 minutes of my run.
My only challenge during the first phase was keeping my pace under control. No matter how good I felt, I had no idea whether I would need that energy at the last phase; pacing was a theme and a concern throughout my training.
The crowds filled my heart, and my acknowledgements had them cheer even louder. They didn’t have to be there, in the rain, but they were, so generously offering their support and energy at just the right moments. I’ll never forget finishing a quiet stretch on the George Washington Parkway, and turning onto the Key Bridge into a tunnel of sound. Goosebumps!
Comfortable and Sustainable
At 5.5 miles, the course turned north to Rock Creek Parkway, a beautiful wooded road, but with almost no spectators. Just us runners, 30,000 of us, 2 miles up the parkway, and then back. Still feeling good at that point, and settling into a 10:30-11:00 pace that felt comfortable and sustainable. Water or Gatorade at every stop (don’t miss a single stop!), and take energy gel every 4-5 miles. That was my plan.
Then, around mile 10, the heavens opened up. Not just a little rain, but a lot. Fortunately, it wasn’t a cold rain, and it wasn’t windy. I was soaked to the skin, and my shoes and socks were totally soaked, but it all felt very comfortable.
My family saw me for the first time around Mile 11, and it was such a sweet moment. Big smiles and big kisses all around. And they were soaked, too!
A Solemn Moment
And then there was the Blue Mile at mile 12, where, every six feet or so, there was a poster showing the name and picture of someone who had fallen in combat, and the date they fell. Some of them went back to World War 2. Taking a cue from another runner, I said aloud the names of everyone I passed. It felt like a prayer.
When that was over, a line of people stood on both sides of the road, holding American flags and honoring the runners. If this didn’t move you, well, I have nothing to say.

Then, the solemn moment gave way to a phase of levity. At the halfway point, at Hains Point in East Potomac Park, the Pacers social running club that I’ve been a part of set up a sequence of dozens of signs exhorting club members, and offering some of the funniest running jokes I’ve seen. I can’t remember many of them, but I did like the sign saying “Short Cut Here” and pointing directly across the Potomac to the monument area of Washington. I found two signs cheering me on!

At this point, Mile 15, still feeling good. Still lots of heavy rain, but I was keeping my pace. Lots of wonderful people again along the route. And the sun came out for good!
My Marathon Actually Begins
And that’s when MY marathon truly began. At Mile 18, approaching the U.S. Capitol building, as blue skies appeared, the twinge I felt in my left hip early in the week returned, and I couldn’t shake it. When the pain grew, I slowed to a walk, stretched, let the pain subside, and resumed running until the pain resurfaced. I did this continuously, even as my left knee began acting up because I was favoring my hip. Pretty soon, the hip and knee became tolerable, but then my legs were getting heavier and I had little to no running rhythm. My cardio was great, but the race had become a grind.

At this moment, I made the choice that helped me finish – I abandoned any idea of keeping to my anticipated 4:35 finish. My purpose was now to persevere, manage my pain, not hurt myself seriously, conserve my energy, and make sure I finished, at whatever time the race gave me. I read somewhere that the marathon is almost guaranteed to humble you – and it sure did that for me.
Mile 20 introduces the 14th Street Bridge on I-395, heading back south into Northern Virginia. Hard concrete, direct sun, a self-serve water station (no thank you), and no cheering spectators. They were the longest two miles of my race.
Into the Crystal City district of Arlington, with high rises, cheering crowds, and a direct sun that was starting to get quite warm. My legs were getting even heavier. At mile 22, I said to myself, no more walking – I can run four miles without stopping! Then came a second humbling moment – my right thigh started to tighten. So went back to alternating walking and running, to avoid hurting myself so badly that I wouldn’t finish.
The Finish
Back onto Route 110, where it all began, past the spot where I started nearly five hours earlier, in the drizzle and darkness. That’s when I started to run without walking – nothing would keep me from running steadily the whole way in!
After the “Mile 26” sign (so welcome), a left turn at the roadway up a fairly steep hill up to Marine Corps Memorial (otherwise known as the Iwo Jima Memorial). High-fiving the marines along the side of the road. I actually heard my name announced from the loudspeakers about 50 yards from the finish, but cannot remember hearing anything else, even the cheering of my family in the bleachers. (Sorry, folks!) I wasn’t even sure when I actually finished. There were two timing strips, but no big “finish” sign overhead.
Finish time: 5 hours, 12 minutes, 23 seconds – about 30 minutes longer than planned.
I’d anticipated the finishing moment often during the past 16 weeks. Despite everything I thought I might experience (crying, shouting, collapsing…) I felt only relief, along with deep satisfaction for doing the best I could, doing something I had wanted to do since I was in my 20s. I sometimes say to myself, “In any given race, you can only do what you can do.”
That was certainly the case today.
Yes, it was THAT wet! Grinding up the hill at the finish Getting my medal from a Marine lieutenant That’s the Iwo Jima monument sticking out of my head Celebrating in Rosslyn with a package of watermelon. Not my only post-race refreshment. With my daughter Allegra Lots of smiles all around: Father-in-law Louis, daughter Daria, wife Lois, daughter Allegra
Gratitude:
- To God, for giving me the strength to persevere.
- To the great spectators, even those whose signs read, “Random Stranger, We’re Proud of You!”
- To New York Road Runners for their incomparable virtual training program. You haven’t let me down yet.
- To the Pacers running group, for welcoming me into their Saturday long runs, which gave me the confidence that I could do this.
- To all my friends who cheered me throughout this journey, read this blog, and held my commitment as their own.
- And most important, to my family: My wife Lois, my daughters Allegra and Daria, and my in-laws the Ritarossi family, for giving me the space and time to follow this dream, and for being there today in the rain, when everything was on the line.
What’s next? I’m taking the day off from work tomorrow, and getting a massage. And no serious running for a week or two. And then probably a Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving Day.
Next year? No rush – that’s for next year. But I am already thinking about what I might do differently.