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This is the letter I sent to my donors to thank them : Greetings, For the first two months, I had some doubt as to whether I would be able to run the marathon. Two days after running the Nookachamps Half Marathon in January, inflammation in my left foot flared up, and caused me to stop running for two months. I held out some hope, and continued working out in the pool and on a stationary bike. After several doctors, some physical therapy and some cortisone, it got well enough to permit me to run slowly and sparingly. In late March I was able to join my teammates at Gasworks Park in Seattle for a 12 mile run. I carefully ramped up to a maximum training run of 22 miles with the constant support of my family, my teammates, and my honored patient, Robert. Even while I was injured, I had still resolved to try to finish the race, either running or walking, so fundraising was still important. Your response was amazing! I was still receiving money the week of the race. All told, your contributions totaled nearly $6000. We arrived in Anchorage two days before the race in order to rest up. My cousin Bob connected us with a good friend from his days in Anchorage, Rhonda Olmstead. Rhonda was kind enough to take us in during our stay, and her digs were far more comfortable than any hotel. I awoke race morning feeling well rested, and looking at perfect running weather - fifty degrees, little wind, and occasional light rain. I was pretty nervous as I stretched, but the jitters seemed to go away as we gathered for the start. I remember seeing Kris and Kayla out of the corner of my eye as I took off with the other 3000 runners. It was really too crowded to decide on a pace for the first three miles or so. I jockeyed along the side of the narrow bike path finding my rhythm. I kept to my routine of doing a one minute walking break every two miles during the race. Although this may have cost about fifteen seconds per mile, I probably still came out ahead by conserving energy along the way. The first indication of where we were came around mile four, as a bald eagle flew overhead. After that, we headed out of town towards the mountains. I spent some time talking with a retired school counselor from San Francisco. He spends his time organizing races now, taking one weekend per month off to do a marathon. It is pretty humbling talking to a person nearly twice your age who's slowly leaving you behind. The course went off-road at mile seven, onto an old tank road in the Fort Richardson Military Reservation. I passed the time by talking with the other runners. The terrain rolled up and down a lot. I noticed fatigue early in the race, at about mile twelve. Considering that twelve miles was an "easy" run, I started to worry a bit. I spent some time playing a word game with two women from the Bay Area. They were going through the alphabet at the rate of one letter per mile. You had to come up with unique words for the appropriate letter. In retrospect, they might have wanted to go backwards, given that I might have imploded under the strain of finding enough words appropriate for mile X, Y, or Z. It was good fun for miles J, K, and L though. I joined a woman from Chicago for her unofficial mile 15 picture. She pulled out a disposable camera, held it at arms length and we ran backwards, mugging along the way. Race photos were taken at about mile 18. I was feeling fairly tired by then, but tried to appear nonchalant for the camera. The trick is to affect a long stride, so that you look like you're sprinting. We'll see if it worked - the proofs haven't arrived yet. I was still taking my walking breaks, and consuming as much water and sport drink as I could along the way. I think that this really made the difference for me, not just during the race, but afterwards. I conserved my power gel until mile 18. By then it might as well have been a large pizza, it filled me up so effectively. We'd turned off of the tank road and into a residential area by now. The neighborhoods we ran through had streets lined with cheering people, some handing out popsicles and water. They'd even made big signs. Around mile 21, there was a sign warning us about moose. Apparently one had forced several runners to wait a minute or so earlier. Moose definitely have the right of way, especially when accompanied by their young. Those of us prudent enough to run a slower race avoided the bottleneck. I tried to keep my mind off of the fact that I'd never run farther than 22 miles before. It only sort of worked. In general, counting down (four miles to go, three miles to go, two ... ) just makes me impatient. I tried to focus on enjoying the experience of running the race. At times I was burning too much lactic acid to remember this though. That's when I really started to focus on the hospital bracelet Robert made for me. It said "U can do it". His positive energy helped me continue on farther than I'd gone before. I passed our coaches just past mile 25. I noticed that although I felt quite lousy by now, I was actually running faster as I went farther. I'd had this wild thought that I could sprint up the last hill at mile 25, but thought again. That day however, I didn't feel ready to kick until I hit the 26 mile mark. The crowd got louder and louder as I ran the last 0.2 on the track. It felt amazing. I heard Kris call to me as I approached the finish. That gave me enough to run just a little bit faster. Perhaps I was showing off a bit - she'd never seen me finish a race before. Afterwards was kind of a blur. I remember pulling the timing chip off of my shoe, then eating and drinking a bunch. Then I remember kissing Kayla and Kris hello and feeling very proud. I've come away knowing that although we ultimately have to run our own respective distances, we do not do so alone. In some measure, many of us benefit from the support we get from others. Thanks again for your support - you've really made a difference. paul
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