Ducking Last Place in the Marathon ~~~~~~~~~~ Almost "The Story About Ping"

I just finished the second of three very difficult marathons over five weeks. I try not to pick the tough marathons, but in my quest for 50 of them, each in a different state, I am running out of events that are within driving distance. Another limiting factor is that I am a church organist, and I need to get back in time for work on Sunday. (I do take a Sunday off now and then, but it is sometimes more work to get a substitute than to play the service myself!) Typically, I will drive as far as 13 hours away on a Friday, and get very little sleep before running a Saturday marathon. Then I will hobble to the car and get home after midnight, so that I can play in church the next morning.

So at the end of July, I found myself at the Deseret Morning News marathon, knowing that I had no business being there. Slow runners are especially conspicuous at smaller marathons, and most of us are too intelligent to attempt this one. At about 3:30 am, they bus you to a place high on a mountain, and at 5:30, you begin running the steep downhill course. You end up in sunny Salt Lake City, in 90-something degree heat.

A less experienced runner might assume (as I did when I was less experienced) that running an all-downhill marathon would be easier. I knew that the opposite is true. Downhill is brutal, and this one was quite steep. I knew it could be the most difficult marathon I’d ever run.

But this event is held on Pioneer Day, a Utah state holiday, and this year it happened to be on a Thursday. Perfect! I could run the marathon, and take two days instead of one to drive the 17 hours home ~ and even have a day to recover!

I am not an athlete, but I run marathons anyway. I never ran until I was 42, and I am slow. I typically finish in 5 hours and 30-40 minutes. When considering whether to run a particular marathon, I always look at previous race results, to see if there are many people who finished the course in over six hours. I don’t want to enter a race if I know I’m going to be last! I have come in third-to-last (Crater Lake Marathon), and when I finished the Bismarck Marathon in 5:18, I was fifth-to-last. I didn’t care ~ it was my PR! No matter how far back of the pack I have been, I’ve always been able to say “at least I didn’t come in LAST!”

Adding to the difficulty of this Utah marathon, there was a death in the family the previous week, I had not been feeling well, and because of a heat wave, I had not been training as well as I should. I knew that there was a better-than-usual chance that I could finish last. I somehow felt that this would be humiliating. The whole world would then point at me and say “She had no business running this marathon!”

So I thought about my strategy. I wanted to start out conservatively, with plenty of walk breaks, to save my muscles for later on. I started at the back of the crowd, as I always do, but kept looking back to make sure there were two or three people behind me. I didn’t dare stop and use the porta-pot until I could build up some distance between me and the last runner, because everyone would pass me, and then I’d be out there all alone!

I kept thinking about The Story About Ping, a children’s book I had read as a child, and had also read to my own children.

In this story, Ping is a little duck who lives on a boat in China with some other ducks. Every morning, they would get off the boat, and go do their duck things, and every evening, they would line up and get back on the boat. The last duck would always get a spank on the bottom, so Ping tried very hard not to be the last duck.




Well, this was really an unjust system, I thought as a child. Even if all the ducks were on time ~ even if they were early! ~ someone had to be the last duck, and someone had to get spanked. A spanking represents the worst possible punishment, to a child.

Back to the marathon ~ It was a pleasant run/walk, in many ways. I did more walking than usual, owing to the fact that I met a first-time marathoner who had injured his knee. He didn’t know if he would be able to finish ~ he could walk, but not run without extreme pain. So I walked with him for several miles. Another fellow joined us, and regaled us with stories of marathons he had done all over the world. After awhile, I decided to start running again, and I met up with a few more runners and had some good conversations.

One of the runners I met during my walk breaks was Charlie, an older gentleman whom I had seen at other races. (Did I say "races?" I try not to use that word.) He is 71, and has run over 140 marathons. He was planning to run another marathon in Massachusetts the following day! And he was also signed up for my next two marathons ~ in Wisconsin two weeks later, and in Wyoming two weeks after that! It is fun to see the same people at these marathons. I walked with him a short while, and then ran ahead.

This marathon was extremely punishing ~ by mile 22, I had been in the 90-something heat long enough, and I had blisters, and my legs were hurting in a thousand places. I knew at that point that I’d be walking the rest of the way. By mile 23, I was crying ~ I wanted it to be over! At mile 24, my daughter joined me and walked me the rest of the way to the finish line.

As I crossed the finish line, they were starting to take it down, and it dawned on me that I might have been the last runner. Later, I checked the results online, and sure enough, there was no one listed with a longer time than mine ~ 6 hours, 20 minutes. I knew Charlie had been behind me, and I was kind of worried about him. A guy like that does not quit unless he has a serious injury or something.

It was an emotional spanking. I had come in last.

I felt horrified ~ for about 20 seconds. Then, I smiled. I had come in last ~ and it was not nearly as humiliating as I had thought it would be. I finished! And aside from worrying about Charlie, it was actually kind of cool. ...REALLY cool. I like to joke about being a half-fast runner, and now I had a new way to joke about it. I won the marathon!! The idea is to be the person who can run the longest, right? I outlasted them all!! Forget about the elite runners ~ anyone can run for two and a half hours ~ it takes a special kind of endurance to run for over six! The first shall be last, and the last shall be first ~ I finally came in first!

That’s how the storybook ended, too. Ping got into some sort of misadventure, and in the end (ha ha) he got a whack on the tush, and it wasn’t such a bad thing after all, because he was glad to be back on the boat.

So yesterday, I was back on the boat, lining up again at the start line of the Paavo Nurmi Marathon in Hurley, Wisconsin. I was glad to see Charlie, and eager to find out what had happened in Utah. I brought up the subject by saying brightly, “I met you in Utah a couple of weeks ago ~~ I came in last!” And he said, “No, I came in last!” So he did finish after all! His name was not on the official results, but they assured him that it would be added later.

So I had been stripped of my title. That’s okay, I will give it up, for Charlie. It is an honor to run in the same marathon with someone like him. I will just have to keep trying, and maybe I will be lucky enough to claim last place in another race someday. I will start saving jokes now.

At the Paavo, I noticed they were allowing some of the slower runners to start an hour early. I didn’t know about this! It would sure help me to start an hour early, because I had an eleven-hour drive afterwards, and I had only gotten 2 1/2 hours sleep. I was already worrying about the drive home! To have a shot at getting home by midnight would be a huge relief.

I asked a race official if there was any way I could have the early start, too. She said “only if you can guarantee that you will finish in over six hours.” Shoot. I’ve had three marathons that were over six hours, and they were all especially difficult. There was a chance, but I couldn’t guarantee it, in all honesty. I thought this one would be a bit easier. So I cheered as Charlie and several others took off.

An hour later, I was also off and running. I was not entirely recovered from Utah, and had done very little running in the two weeks since then. There were some aggravating conditions ~ besides the lack of sleep and the sub-optimal training, I have a gastro-intestinal condition that had been acting up, and my TOM had hit hard, but the weather conditions were perfect, and the course, though hilly, was not what I would call tough. So I was hoping for my usual 5:30-5:40 finishing time.

I had my internet gizmo thingy with me, and it has a crappy camera, so I took some pictures. I might start taking my good camera, because it’s kind of fun to see the pictures and share them on this blog!

The course was lovely ~ it went through several small towns, some of them unincorporated. Hurley, and for that matter, this whole region of northern Wisconsin, has a strong Finnish heritage ~ that is why they have honored Paavo Nurmi, the Finnish runner, with this marathon weekend. This was the 40th year of the “Paavo.”

I thought this little “Badger Motel” was cute, and typical of the kinds of places along the course.




I took this picture, because it represents what most of the route looked like ~



I saw a lot of pine trees that looked like this ~ a lot of the greenery was missing, except at the top of the trees. At first I thought they were a different kind of tree, with the trunks exposed like that. I wonder if it is due to some kind of insect damage, because of climate change.



A couple of times, there was a firefighter there to hose us down. I really appreciate this during marathons ~ it can be a life saver, if it is very hot. The weather was only in the 70s this time, but even so, you get sweaty, and the water feels good. I took full advantage of it.



I took a picture of the fire truck, for my friend Jim. I thought about asking for a shirt, but I really didn’t want to run a marathon carrying a shirt! Sorry, Jim!



The picture doesn’t do it justice, but this was the most beautiful stretch of scenery up to this point.



About mile 20, I started to feel it. I’ve done enough marathons that I can tell how I’m doing by comparing it to how I’ve felt in previous marathons. I usually feel better than this at mile 20, so I could tell I was getting in trouble. And I had passed several runners, so I knew I wasn’t last, but if I hit the wall, they could conceivably pass me, and I would get the dreaded spanking on my psyche. A spanking which I knew wasn’t so bad after all. So I smiled a couple of miles later, when I saw the duck signs. “Welcome Runners to Mile 22.” How did they know to tap into my theme?



Just after that water station, there was this beautiful “Ducks Unlimited” wetlands preserve. This was my favorite sight of the course, even though my body was screaming in agony by then.



There was a large VA presence in Hurley ~ in fact, the Veterans had sponsored the pasta dinner. I thought this was quite a memorial, so I photographed it. The child’s mother said “Get out of the way so she can take the picture!” ~ but I wanted the child in the picture!



I was pretty sure I would not be able to run any of the last four miles, because I was having some severe cramping. (I hate my guts. I want new guts. Half of the time that I am walking instead of running, it is for the sake of my guts.) I even ate a half of a banana, and I usually can’t run after eating, when it’s that sensitive. But actually, I did run a few more stretches. I finished in just over six hours, I think. (I haven’t checked the official time). It was one of those undignified finishes, when I start crying, and try not to let it become heaving sobs. It was over. I finished.

A nice touch at the “Finnish line” ~ they served “mojakka,” which is a Finnish stew. It was great comfort food (not to mention a good mix of carbs and protein!)

Charlie had finished in about the same time span, but he had started an hour early. He waited around to see me finish, knowing that I had said it could possibly be six hours. That was so nice of him! He helped me find the place where we picked up our finishers’ shirts and medals. I think I came in 3rd from the last. Behind me was another hero, a man in his eighties. I expect to see him again, at other marathons. I didn’t get a chance to chat with the lucky duck who came in last ~ he slunk out without really talking ~ Perhaps he was smarting from the spank, and it had not yet dawned on him, that it was actually a cool distinction to have won. I hope he does appreciate it, someday, at least.