Sneakers on the ground

In my 9-to-5 days, I would be in the gym or out running at 5 a.m. Now that I get up at 3 a.m. and pretty much have work until dinner time (that's another story), fitness time is much more of a premium. A few times this past summer, I managed to get up at 2 a.m. and run through the haunted hours. (Still another story.)

Upshot: I didn't do the track workouts, tempo runs, and hill repeats with the frequency or intensity I usually do before a marathon. I did manage to fit in the long runs, meaning a minimum of 18 miles, because I always schedule those for Sunday morning. Going into this one, I wasn't expecting a Boston qualifier time (something I've done four times).

At my ripe old age of 54, it requires a 3:35 to get into Boston. My goal this day was more modest: Keep it under four hours.

Serial marathoners-me included-can be a superstitious bunch, and so I was worried about Sunday. But there were two auspicious developments. First, the weather was to be perfect. Second, I made plans to, and successfully met up with one of my training partners beforehand. Company is nice on a long run, especially with someone who has trained at your pace.

The Marines' World War II-era howitzer boomed, and a couple of minutes Georgeanne and I were crossing the start line on Route 110 in Arlington under a gorgeous October sky.

I soon realized that not going for a Boston qualifier made me more relaxed and I could actually enjoy the scenery and the well-wishers lining the route. Still, I was monitoring the signs from every body part from lungs to feet, much as a pilot monitors his instruments, always slightly suspicious of what could go wrong. And in a marathon, a lot can go wrong. I certainly have by list of personal horror stories. Ask me about Pittsburgh 2000 some time.

But this day, nothing ever did go wrong. At Mile 17 on Constitution Ave. I started to feel leg cramps but kept them under control by the simple technique of straightening up and stretching my torso to lighten the load. I know it defies physics, but it works. The fabled 14th Bridge crossing back into Virginia proves a graveyard for many Marine Corps Marathon runners, and Sunday we encountered a litter of limpers and walkers. The new pavement is rough, grooved concrete, tough on feet and legs.

At Mile 21 I had that running-on-empty feeling and slowed the pace a bit. Slowly chewing on sports jelly beans seemed to work magic, and I felt really strong 'til Mile 23 in Crystal City. At this point Georgeanne was feeling stronger, so I waved her on. I felt renewed again at Mile 24-at which point you realize that you can stand anything for another 2.2 miles. At the Mile 25 marker, I was buoyed by the shouting crowds lining Route 110. After the Mile 26 marker, it's less than a lap to go, and up the hill towards the finish near the famous Iwo Jima memorial statue. Goal: Met by a whisker, at 3:58:36. Georgeanne had arrived at 3:55. And then, on the other side of the finish corral fence way my wife, who had biked in from our home in Rockville. What a welcome sight!

Uniformed Marines hand out space blankets-it gets chilly fast when you stop and it is a breezy 60 degrees out. And then they put a medal around your neck. Imagine, Marines putting medals on us. I thanked my Marine for the medal and for his service to the country.

Couple of thanks: To my wife for putting up with my training and my complaints about how this MCM was sure to be a disaster. To training buddies Georgeanne, Jerry and Jean (alas, waylaid by H1N1 flu). And to Federal News Radio's marketing manager, May Kay LeMay, for the customized shirt with the big Federal News Radio 1500 AM logo on the back. And congratulations to afternoon co-host Amy Morris for her big finish.

Semper Fi!

Read what Amy had to say about the race by clicking here.