My love letter to the Pittsburgh Marathon

4:30 A.M.

The alarm on you phone rings and you slowly...slowly crawl out of bed. You groggily make your way to the window to look out into the night. Trees are blowing in the wind. Droplets of rain bead on the windows. It looks cold to say the least. 

You've made a horrible mistake. You've decided to run all, half, or a portion of the Pittsburgh Marathon. For tens of thousands of suckers runners, this is a great day. But now in retrospect, this doesn't seem like the best idea.

You drag yourself into the shower, dry off, and begin to paint your high-performance wicking gear onto your body. This is the day you've been waiting for. You've ran again and again waiting for this day. When you started to do one mile at a clip to train, then you did two. When two was good, then you did five and so on and so on. Not understanding that running was truly the only insane sport that the better you get at it, the longer you have to train. You ran a mile in eight minutes? Great, now do that again, but run two miles this time. 

Going down to the kitchen, you're cautious not to drink coffee otherwise your bladder will betray you the entire run. You've decided on oatmeal and a banana, the least offensive breakfast you can think of for your stomach.

You decide to venture outside:

Yes, it's as cold as it looks!

The shards of rain water hit you in the face letting you know that you'll not only be fighting yourself, but typical Pittsburgh weather.

You find your corral and start to warm up. Some for show, but some to keep you occupied with all the nervous occupied energy. Some ankle stretches. Knee bends. You want to take a third trip to the Royal Flush port-a-potty, but the starting gun is eminent. There's enough static electricity from all the Under Armour to power a bullet train. Glancing around, you project everyone is as nervous as you.

The announcer states the starting gun is coming

*CRACK*

And you're off.

It's all asses and elbows in the corral.

It's all asses and elbows in the corral.

Washout.jpg

Epilogue:

Kidding aside, I highly recommend everyone find a way to participate in the marathon in some way, whether that be participating, volunteering, or spectating. Nothing revitalizes your faith in humanity than watching strangers cheer for other strangers in this great city of ours. You'll never regret it.