Fat-Man Shuffle, Part 1

The first measure of endurance is the wait to pick up your race number (9346), T-shirt, and all the other stuff in the goodie bag. I sat in a line for close to an hour to get into the Expo. Once inside, the Marines were efficient and moved us through the line quickly. We immediately dove into the goodie bag and there was an IBM water bottle. Like I don’t have enough crap with the IBM logo on it. The strange thing was that it made me feel a little more connected to the event.

I spent some time buying the final things that I had forgotten. A fanny pack and GU gels were purchased. I forgot to buy nipple guards, but decided to just buy some Band-aids at the 7-11 the next morning.

All the running journals talk about not being able to sleep the night before. No problem there. I slept like a baby. Lisa took me to the Metro Station. The crowd was already starting to form and I started to check out all the other runners. What had I signed on for? Skinny, trim, lean. These descriptions fit most of the people on the platform….except me.

I had to transfer at the Rosslyn Station to get to Arlington Station. The wait on the platform was horrible. Luckily, I walked to the very end of the platform where it wasn’t quite so crwoded. As the train approached, it was obviously packed and I couldn’t see how anyone was going to get on. But the last car (my car) was practically empty. I got on and there he was. I don’t know who he was, but he looked like he was going to win this race. What had I signed on for?

At the Arlington Station, it took quite a while to get off the platform. Everyone had to validate their fare and there was some token security, as well. Once I climbed out of the subway, I proceeded to the starting chutes. My goal was less than 5 hours so I started the walk to get to that area. It was about a quarter of a mile away and the embankment to the right was lined with the classic pose of men finding relief. When in Rome…

I finally reached my starting area. There I met “my people”. Finally, some people that looked like real people. Bald, chubby guys, women with some junk in the trunk. These were people who were looking to finish and didn’t have pacing cards on their wrist to meet some goal time. The cannon was fired and it was time to get going. Eighteen thousand people began moving toward the starting line. My crowd had about a quarter of a mile to walk to get to the starting line. As we took the 10 minutes to shuffle there, I started to see IBM water bottles everywhere. People had used my beloved IBM water bottles as if they were Dixie Cups. I tried not to find any symbology.

As the line approached, I wavered between the excitement that I was finally running this thing and the sinking feeling of being in over my head. Either way, I finally reached the starting line and starting putting one foot in front of the other.