Ok, so I’m not running during those hours, that's true. But here's a little taste of what I am doing, in the context of this particular marathon: I get up when my husband gets up. Not only is he as loud as an elephant (or maybe two or three elephants) once he's up and moving around, but his nervous energy is palpable. It's impossible to sleep through. Plus, I have to admit, I'm always a bit excited about the race myself.
So, Traverse City starts out with me trying to find something for him to eat, since, as usual, we forgot to pick something up the night before. Luckily for me, we had mentioned his early start to Barb, the owner of our B&B, and she has set out muffins and fruit. Perfect! Then we get ready and head out to the start. In Traverse City, we were close enough to ride our bikes in. It's about a 15 – 20 minute ride, and is extremely convenient because parking is always a nightmare, especially when you don't know the area! Now, it's something like 6 am, so it's pretty cold, which means I have to dress in about a half dozen layers, since I won't have running to keep me warm.
And then…we just hang out for about an hour. It's cold, my husband hits the porta potty no fewer than 3 times, and otherwise we just kind of… stand there. The tension is excruciating! Sometimes we play games, like trying to pick out the fast people, or to spot the worst tattoos (this particular game works MUCH better when you're standing around at a place like Six Flags; runners on the whole don't seem to have many tattoos, and it seems like my husband always wins for best AND worst when we only have runners to play with). Sometimes we discuss the "game plan" – that is, where he can expect to see me, which side of the lane I'll be on, etc. Sometimes we just do anything to keep warm.
After the race finally starts, I swing into motion. First, I have to get back to the bikes. Not only am I weighted down by my layers, but now I'm carrying his extra warm-up clothes, too. I jump on my bike and hightail it back to the B&B, where I throw my bike in the van (our awesome minivan, that is… and no, we don't have kids), jump in the driver's seat, and start heading back to the start and up Mission Peninsula.
Now, I know what you're thinking – I'm in a vehicle, right? How hard can this be? Well, I've told Mike I'll be at Mile 12 (which is also Mile 14, due to the out-and-back course). It's going to take him less than 1 ½ hours to get there, and I just lost about 20 minutes getting back to the van and ready to go. And now I have to drive back to the start, and then another 12 miles to try to find parking as close to the course as possible. We drove the course the day before, of course, but that was a whole different experience. Now there are a bunch of random (to me) road closures and detours, and more-than-usual numbers of police officers and other drivers, and mostly I just crawl along. And this whole time, I'm totally stressed out, just hoping I can manage to find the appointed spot, and get there before he does.
I finally find my cross street and start driving towards the course. There are cars absolutely everywhere, so the first chance I find to park, I take it, and whip my bike out of the back (see, minivans are REALLY convenient sometimes), jump on, and start wildly pedaling up the road. UP the road. Because I'm going uphill. And I'm not built for this. I finally get to the right spot, totally out of breath. As my husband alluded in his post, I did not make it for his pass at Mile 12. But I was there for Mile 14!
And then I had to jump in the car and do it all again, in reverse. I did make it back in time to see him finish. I didn’t know how much he had been struggling throughout the race until the end. I was proud of him for not giving up (although giving up is not something I've ever seen him do, in any context). And then he tells me he wants to take the bikes back up the peninsula to ride around.
Yes, being married to him certainly IS exhausting.
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