This past weekend, I went from Colorado down to California for the Long Beach Marathon. It’s a huge event for Train 4 Autism, which I’m proud to be a part of. And while I have your attention, if you don’t know what Operation Jack is, CLICK HERE! Please!
Anyways, I flew out Friday after work, worked the expo all day Saturday recruiting for Train 4 Autism and the Operation Jack Marathon. It was amazing to see T4A’s growth and presence. It’s just awesome to be on a team that’s winning, especially when the prize is a better life for kids with autism. We had 266 people out there in T4A blue on Sunday. I have my own individual role, and I actually don’t really even know what that is, but I know I’ve worked really hard over the past 3+ years to do what I can and it’s awesome to see things growing.
We all have a dream that we’re going to grow and help people and help people help people (kind of confusing to write it that way, but that’s accurate) and we’re getting there. The dream is starting to come true. So the whole experience was pretty awesome. I love feeling like my running and my hobby has some purpose.
I ran the Long Beach Marathon on Sunday, lifetime marathon #103. I’m going to be real brief. I wanted to run somewhere around a 3:05, maybe a bit quicker. I felt sluggish all week — I still haven’t recovered from the marathon I ran on September 1. I went out, pushed it, knew I didn’t have it and still tried to force it. I knew it was a stupid idea, but I did it anyways, and as I suspected, I fell apart by mile 14. The 3:05 I wanted probably could have been a 3:12, but it ended up being a 3:26. It was a long, miserable day in the sun. And then life went on.
Ok, so the headline for this is worst post-run run ever, and I’m going to get to that in just a second. But first, pictures make everything more interesting. And they’re easier to read. So here’s one from last night. I was growing a beard for the heck of it, but I was messing around last night when I was shaving.
All right, the worst post-run run ever. I took a bus out to the airport in Denver on Friday and I was taking it back. I was at dinner in California on Sunday night and for whatever reason, I wanted to check the time of the bus back to where I was going. They go about every hour and I was hoping I wouldn’t have to wait for an hour. When I saw the schedule, I saw that the last bus was at 11:25. I went to see what time my flight landed, because I had no idea, and it was 11:10.
If you’ve ever been to the airport in Denver, it’s a long way from the gates to ground transportation. You have to go down those electric sidewalks (whatever they’re called, then down two escalators, then you have to take a tram in. I would have 15 minutes and at that point, about 5 hours to dwell on it. The first bus out in the morning is at 6:25 a.m. and I parked at Park-N-Ride about 35 miles from the airport. Easily a $100 cab fare. I don’t have $100 to burn like that, so I would have just slept in the terminal and taken the bus out. And hated Monday. No way in the world would I even think about asking Tiff to load the three kids into the car at 11:30 and drive down to the airport. I had to make this bus!
When I got to the airport in Orange County, I checked with the Frontier folks at the gate about buying up to row closer to the front so I could get off the plane quicker — I knew every minute would matter. But the flight was completely full. Row 20. Then I heard announcements about checking carry-ons because there wasn’t going to be enough room. If I couldn’t bring my bag on, there was no way I would get to the bus on time.
While they were going through the boarding, they announced that once they hit 40 more bags, they were going to have to force everything else to be checked. I looked around and knew it was going to be close. About five people before I got on, they made the announcement that they were full and everything had to be checked. This was a death sentence as far as making that bus was concerned, so I went and begged and explained my situation and they allowed me to try to find space on the plane.
I did, so that was one crisis averted. I sat in my seat hoping we’d leave on time because every minute on the flip side would make a difference. We pushed back pretty quick and were up in the air without much delay. The pilot even told us we might be on the ground a few minutes early! Yes!
And then I sat there on the flight in anxiety for two hours. Oh, and I was in pain, too. My right leg was killing me, primarily from the marathon that day but also from some lingering pain I have that makes it difficult to sit still for more than 20 minutes or so. Unfortunately, I was on the window seat on the left, so I just had to deal with it.
We landed at about 11 p.m., which gave me a little tiny bit of hope that we’d make it. I was estimating 10-15 minutes to where I needed to get from the time I got off the plane and if we could be at the gate in 5 minutes, I thought 20 minutes would make me safe.
We pulled in and I saw gate A29. That’s a big plus, because there’s also a B and C terminal and by being in the A terminal, there was a much shorter tram ride to get to where I was needing to get. But we just sat there waiting for them to open the door. After about two minutes of waiting, the power went off inside the plane. I was starting to think my chances were slipping away.
It seemed like an eternity, but it was probably about 4 or 5 minutes that everybody stood there waiting for them to let us out. They opened the door at 11:09 and I knew it was going to be a tight race to the finish. My achy legs were going to have to run through the terminal. I was getting really antsy, knowing every second would count. People who were taking their good, sweet time pulling down their luggage from the overhead were annoying me, although I knew the problem was me, not them.
Finally, at 11:14 I was off the plane and I started running through the terminal. That was the worst post-run run EVER. It hurt and I know I looked ridiculous. But I needed to catch that bus. I was running down the left side of those stand-on-the-right, walk-on-the-left moving sidewalks (note: DON’T STAND ON THE LEFT NEXT TO SOMEBODY STANDING ON THE RIGHT! NOT COOL!). I ran down escalators to get to the tram and saw the doors close to one. I just missed it.
I got this sinking feeling I wasn’t going to catch the bus. It was 11:18 and the next tram didn’t come until 11:21. Four minutes left. I knew I was going to need the bus to be about a minute or two late getting out. I had to stand in a sea of people waiting to get up an escalator. Those 30 seconds seemed like 30 hours.
I continued running on my beat-up legs when I got to the top, got out to where the bus was and there was no bus. But there were people waiting! Ahhh, I made it and the bus was late! I was so relieved! Just to make sure, I asked to confirm that they were waiting for the AB heading towards Boulder.
No, that just left a couple of minutes ago.
I missed it. I missed my bus. Next bus out in seven hours. Work two hours after that. Awesome. I stood there for a couple of minutes because, well, I wasn’t in any hurry to go anywhere at that point. I had all night in front of me in an airport terminal.
Then a young woman, maybe 22 or so, ran up looking for the bus. She was pretty upset to find out it was gone. She was a student at CU-Boulder. Then another guy came by and found out he missed it, too. He was pretty laid back, though. He was also a student. Boulder is a long ways from the airport. Probably close to an hour, definitely at least 45 minutes. But he just called his girlfriend up and she was on the way. He offered rides to me and the other woman.
I don’t think I’ve ever taken a ride on a moment’s notice from a complete random stranger, but I didn’t really care. We waited in the terminal for a while and she finally got there. We loaded up and hit the road. They dropped me off in my town, which was on the way. There’s a bus stop on the highway so they didn’t event need to go out of the way. They just stopped, let me out, I thanked them for the ride and gave them some gas money and walked to my car. At about 1:15 a.m., 18 hours after I woke up before running a miserable marathon in the sun in California, I walked into my home in Broomfield, Colo.
Long day. Memorable day. Long day. Long day. And then a short night. Five hours later, the kids were up and it was time to get ready for work.
So there you have it. Definitely the worst post-run run ever.
Have you ever been stranded overnight? Have you ever had to run with a suitcase? Should I have kept the facial hair?
Have a great Tuesday!
Megan says
Ooph, that just sounds terrible! Thank goodness for the kindness of strangers that just happen to be stuck in the same boat. Glad you made it home, at least!
And regardless of the LB performance, congrats on marathon #103! That’s huge!
Aj says
Keep the stache and get at least a few photos to memorialize it. Last spring in the la marathon I did not arrange post race transportation and I ended up walking 3 miles, taking 2 busses, waiting for an hour for another bus then breaking down and taking a cab. Getting home took much longer than the race.
Gaye says
Glad you found a ride…for future reference, skip the train from Concourse A…you can take (run/walk/whatever) the bridge straight to the terminal. Also good for avoiding the main security lines sometimes!
Jake says
Oh, please… that’s a win!