After my brother, Christopher, and I practiced our starts we all piled in the car and headed out on our loooooong (supposed to be three hour) drive. About an hour into the drive my brilliant father decided he needs to stop and eat (seriously?! You didn't think about this before we left?). So our sarcastically long drive turned into a real long drive.
Needed a good stretch and some fuel before continuing on the road ahead.
We finally made it to the expo... way later than necessary.
Made it through the crowds, got checked in, took a few stupid pics, and went to find food.
Stay with me, here's where I stop rambling. You see, my lil bro is a bomb runner. He's got these laser rocket legs that I just wasn't born with. He really is so naturally gifted... he's just not always the sharpest tool ;-)
Christopher has done one marathon prior to C-bus where he paced sub-3 for 21 miles before getting sick and having me walk him across the finish line over 4 hours later. My heart broke for him because I knew how hard he trained for that race and all he got out of it were ankles torn to shreds because he somehow thought it was a good idea to wear old cotton socks with the elastic worn out. They ended up under his feet and his shoes were literally filled with blood puddles.
This time around he figured out a solid nutrition plan and nailed his long runs. He even bought a new pair of socks just for this race (which, no joke, he couldn't find the night before the race. They eventually turned up).
It was race morning and Christopher had his game face on (clearly). It was frrreeeezing that morning, a balmy 2 degrees with 30mph winds (at least that's how it felt). Our sorry arses bumbled to the start line and decided to make a final pit stop. In the port-o-pots, we heard the gun go off. Probably not the best place to be for the start of the race.I ended up crossing the start with the 5:30 pace group, and I had no idea where Christopher was. About three miles into the run, Christopher comes running by (with his sweatpants tied around his neck that he forgot to leave with my parents!). We had a quick chat, he tells me how frustrated he is with all the bottle necking and swerving, and wished me luck. Despite a less than ideal start, he looked great.
I'll be honest, I looked in every medical tent I passed to make sure I didn't have a bloodied brother curled up inside. I had already told myself that no matter how on pace I was, if he pulls another Chicago Mary I'm staying with him.
But fortunately, once he passed at mile 3 I didn't see him again until I ran down the finish chute and saw him cheering with the rest of the fam. He had his race, and a really fast one at that. This time around he wanted to race smarter, qualify for Boston, then train his arse off for April. His qualifying time is 3:10:59... and he ran a 3:11:42.
42 seconds! Can you believe it!? 42 teensy tiny seconds! He ran such a smart race and slowly worked his way back up to pace, and missed it by 42 silly ol' seconds. 3:11 is a huge PR for him, but it was hard to get excited when he was so, SO close. If only he wouldn't have stopped to pee, or what if he would've started on pace... It's so frustrating and it makes my heart ache.
But the bottom line is he raced his ass off. He nailed nutrition, he nailed his training, he wore socks with snug ankle holes. He knew exactly what he needed to run that last mile in and he left it all on the line.
"I've missed more than 9,000 shots in my career. I've lost almost 300 games. 26 times I've been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I've failed over and over and over again in my life and that is why I succeed." ~ Michael Jordan
Christopher, you'll get your race.
And then to add salt to the wound, he got a broken medal (hence the half #1 finger).
Train on.
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