I wasn't battling "bogies" in Russian MIG's like Maverick and Goose, or trying to find a girlfriend like the Flight of the Conchords boys, but my objective was essentailly the same: watch my buddy's back, prop him up and make him look good .
My friend Greg Wright and I go back a few decades. Besides being my teaching/coaching mentor for the past 15 years, he did the greatest thing any guy can do for another when he introduced me to my wife. So I owe him. Big Time.
Over the years Greg has made some good calls (having one beer, and then a second . . but not a third before my wedding ceremony) and perhaps some questionable calls (we both left Bear Creek to come to Lodi High) but I am forever endebted to him for the most important things in my life: my wife, my kids, my best teaching and coaching moments and my love for running. So I figured the least I can do is try to find a way to pay him back. And the California International Marathon seemed like just the thing.
Why would Greg need help? Well, Greg is a dedicated guy when it comes to training--he puts in all the prerequisite work to run a great marathon. But something in the starter's pistol makes him start off the race like a cat whose pajamas are on fire and far too often he runs himself ragged before he's halfway home. So last night I told him I was going to show up around mile 18 and escort him safely home. I'd be his wingman.
I parked around Mile 25, just off the course, and ran back to Mile 18. It truly was a magnificent day and some runners I recognized seem to be on their way to spectacular finishes. I was a little jealous. Eventually I made it back to Mile 18 where I waited with Cytomax, GU and whatever else a runner might need. Greg said he was hoping to run with the 4:00 pace group but that group soon went by. Then the 4:10 group passed. When the 4:20 pack went by, I wondered if I had somewhow missed him. Or maybe . . . he had blown up.
Right then Steve Uniack appeared and Greg was right behind.
The guys looked a little haggard. Steve's calves were cramped up and Greg had gone out a little fast . I tried to offer some help: Greg took a gel and I took Steve's extra shirt and gloves off his hands. They each called the wives on my phone and gave them a projected finish time. I was wishing I could do more but what can you do? They don't allow taxi rides or even piggy-back's to the finish. You have to do it all on your own two feet.
So I marched on with the two guys until Steve had to peel off. Greg found a little extra motivation in passing his nemesis but the mileage was wearing him down. He regurged a a GU, the right nipple was bleeding through his shirt . . . and he was cramping. Somehow he was still within striking distance of his PR (4:32) but it would be tough-going to finish. I kept handing him the water bottle, the Cytomax and tried to pull him along.
We settled in around 10:00-11:00 pace during a nice downhill towards the bridge but we had to start mixing in some walking segments. I wasn't sure if he wanted some light conversation to take his mind of the pain or if he would rather maintain radio silence. Truth is, I'm not a social runner myself so I don't know how it works with others.
The music and crowds make the C.I.M. as bearable as 26.2 miles can be and there's an aid station at practicaly every mile. It really is a cool course and I am going down on record right now saying that I WILL RUN THE C.I.M. IN 2011. Finally, with about 2 miles to go I heard Steve Perry blaring "Don't stop . . . believing" and I knew Greg was going to make it home. The PR was slipping away but he was going to finish.
Coming down "L" Street, all the trees were flaming red and gold, you could see the giant palms of the Capitol Park and the crowd was growing louder. With half a mile to go I stepped off the course and l watched Greg go around the last turn. I know it wasn't the "Top Gun" P.R. finish he was hoping for, but he was just a few minutes off his best mark and he was home.
Five minutes later he was standing like a hero, flanked by his wife and admiring kids and that's all you can really ask for, right?
As his wife leaned in for a kiss, it was like a scene straight out of a movie.
"Maybe later, honey," he said. "I just threw up."
Maybe you did just throw up.
But I'll be your wingman anytime, Maverick.
Congratulations to all the California International Marathon participants! http://www.runcim.org/
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