The Jackass Kick
Indirectly relevant photo by QuietDelusions courtesy of Flickr.
A burst of speed at the end of a marathon is exceedingly rare, but it happened to me once. Usually, one can’t summon late race heroics from weary muscles. But there I was at the Myrtle Beach Marathon feeling relatively fresh at mile 24. As I passed fading runners, I began to sense an excellent finish. You’ll just have to trust me. This sort of thing doesn’t happen very often.
Positively ebullient, I passed the 26-mile marker, primed for excessive celebration. That’s when I saw her. As I rounded the final corner, twenty yards ahead, mercilessly taunting me by her very presence, was a white haired old woman in Asics and a singlet.
She was going to beat me.
Defiance rose from deep within the arcane recesses of my masculinity. Flush with what I assure you were entirely natural performance enhancing intoxicants, I surged forward, determined to finish before this usurping senior citizen. I remember literally screaming to myself, “No way grandma!â€
But then, my practical sense emerged from the biochemical fog. Was I really racing an older woman? To be sure, she was fit and quite capable. A 3:30 marathon is nothing to sneeze at. But let’s face it, she could collect social security and something had to be done about that.
As we jostled for position, I heard two distinct sounds rising from the crowd. Wild cheering overflowed for the white haired woman. Malevolent boos and derisive insults were hurled at me. No amount of hormones could save me now.
Consider the unmanageable difficulty of my situation.
Anyone who would pass an old woman in sight of a marathon finish is, by definition, a jackass. There’s just no way around this. However, anyone beaten by an old woman in an endurance race must be hopelessly feeble. This horrible realization makes one want to pass old women in the first place. To pass or not to pass; both options are wholly untenable. Worse, the consequence of one choice makes the other choice totally necessary, so there’s simply no way to win. It’s Heller’s Catch-22 for runners.
I had only a split second to make my choice. Like any red-blooded, hyper-competitive marathoner within sight of the immortal finish line, I bolted. Grandma ate my testosterone-laced dust.
In Chariot’s of Fire, Eric Liddell ran and felt God’s pleasure. That must have been nice. As I dashed forward, I could feel the mordant stares and quiet disgust of outraged spectators. As I crossed the finish line, the enormity of my blunder became clear. I had blatantly, unashamedly run down kindly Carole Findley, 66 of Raleigh, North Carolina. I felt like the devil incarnate.
Carole of course, finished to thunderous applause despite struggling through the final hundred yards (I suspect she may have been playing to the crowd, but I can’t prove this.) In the finisher’s chute, I sheepishly received my ill-gotten medal. I finished the marathon with rare strength and couldn’t enjoy it, even slightly. Avoiding eye contact with the masses, I skulked away.
Since then, I’ve cultivated a healthy grasp of competitive etiquette. I wish I had shown greater maturity at Myrtle, particularly in light of one painfully salient fact: Carole ran the half rather than the full marathon that day. Had I known this at the time, her 3:30 would have seemed a tad less threateningly impressive and the whole day might have gone differently. As it stood, I beat down an older woman who ran 16-minute miles (probably a personal best) in an entirely different race. And I had to kick into high gear to pass her. Even my act of strength revealed weakness.
So Carole, I apologize for my callow buffoonery. I’d like to make it up to you someday; perhaps we can meet for dinner at the Piccadilly Cafeteria and enjoy Bingo afterward… my treat.
– Dean
APPENDIX: OFFICIAL RESULTS
2007 Myrtle Beach Half Marathon
Carole Findley – Age 66 (Really, not old at all)
3:30:08
2007 Myrtle Beach Marathon
Dean Schuster – Age 36
3:28:52 (PR at the time)
Sylvia Collins – Age 65
3:31:21 (Whew, I’m glad I beat the amazing Sylvia.)
July 3rd, 2009 at 4:03 pm
I remember my first marathon, also a 3:30 experience at the Marine Corps Marathon. I had not trained and on a whim accepted an offer to run on a friend’s number who pulled out. I was running 15 miles a week prior to the marathon week. I did 13 miles the Saturday before. I ran 60 miles in the 10 days leading up to the marathon. I called it a reverse taper.
I asked for sage advice from my old college coach. He said “#1. Feel like you are runing comfortably the whole race, a bit slower than you want to go, #2 Remember Oprah Winfrey did this so you should be able too!” Visions of the Color Purple came to mind.
The night before at a pre-race dinner people were entertained by my preparation and silently mocked my anticipated 3:30 finish time. They knew too well what I had to learn.
The next morning blinded by my young immortality and ignorance. I shot off at 7:30 pace the first mile, but sizing up the folks around me I assumed I belonged with the folks ahead. I dropped down to a 7 minute pace. This was great until mile 15. I began to feel more mortal. At mile 18 I had so much pain in my knee, I could only sprint or walk. Everything in between hurt. I finished the next 6 miles that way. Then I heard him…. heavy breathing of a man on the brink of death. He was over 70 and sounded like he had emphysema. The next 2 miles were so painful as I tried desparately to fend him off. I was in Arlington and could see the monument at the finish. I felt the same surge, I took off up the hill like a bat out of hell. The only problem was I didn’t recon the hill and did not know about thelong 600 meter lap around the monument. I was spent. I started walking. What made it worse , 10,000 of people were the yelling you are almost there, don’t stop. They had no idea of what I had just done. The old man cruised on by. I wanted to weep.
After about 30 seconds I jog in and collected my medal. I felt like a new candidate for the “Agony of defeat” clip. I never saw the guy again and certainly did not look him up. I do remember urinating what looked like pure blood after the event which quickly took my mind off the race.
I now try to run smarter.
Craig
July 3rd, 2009 at 6:54 pm
HA HA HA HA HA!
That’s like the bizarro Jackass kick! You KNOW that guy had you (the upstart whipper-snapper) in his sights. “No way some young punk is going to outlast the power of my cumulative experience!” You probably motivated him to his best ever finish!
Nice job!
– Dean
July 4th, 2009 at 11:08 am
I think the crowd showed bad form as well. Of course you’re going to beat someone doing 16-minute miles…but I know that feeling, having once raced some 7-year-old being coached by his dad on the sidelines — and losing to him anyway.
July 7th, 2009 at 9:11 am
I believe we all have to go through some version of this story. I have gone through it more than once, but the worst was last year’s Towpath Marathon when this older gent, whose form more resembled a question mark than a runner, passed me in the late stages of the race and said, not panting, “20 miles and I finally passed someone.” There’s no comeback for that.
July 7th, 2009 at 12:51 pm
Viper,
By Grabthar’s hammer… I shall avenge you.
– Dean
July 9th, 2009 at 12:07 pm
I legitimately got beat by a 10 year old the other day. At least you won your race. 😉
July 15th, 2009 at 4:26 pm
Just make sure you get to the Hobble & Gobble, I mean the Picadilly by 4:30 to beat the rush!
Great post!
July 22nd, 2009 at 8:09 am
I had a few minutes to spare this morning and I decided to check out good ol’ ZTB and I’m glad I did. Always a fun read, thanks.
July 22nd, 2009 at 12:27 pm
Oh, and I mentioned you in my blog today 🙂
http://www.inathought.com/blog/2009/07/636/
July 23rd, 2009 at 12:47 am
“Anyone who would contemplate passing an old woman in sight of a marathon finish is, by definition, a jackass.”
I wholeheartedly disagree.
First of all, nice of you to recognize her efforts. But second, I think we have gotten to the point, or at least we SHOULD be to the point, where beating any runner, regardless of age and gender, should be about beating a competitor. I am sure there will be many who will deride your desire to beat a woman (and yes, there is a slight sexist psyche that makes males kick it in a little bit to beat a female in some races) but many will want to be treated simply as another “runner”. If or when I beat all the women in a race I am pleased. Not because I bet the women but because if a runner beats all the women in the race, chances are, on this day and age, you ran a pretty fast time.
Then again, maybe I am a jackass. Won’t be the first or last time that is asserted!
September 21st, 2009 at 9:11 pm
In a recent rainstorm, a woman in my area was running and a tree limb fell and killed her. Proof, once again, that running can kill you.
12,045 days of not running, and counting.
September 24th, 2009 at 3:21 pm
Still not running. I’m on a roll.
September 28th, 2009 at 5:55 am
Hi Dean,
please contact me – i would like to present your blog
as “blog of the month” inside one of the upcoming EPO ezine
issues.
Just in case you would like to check out what for,
read some of the old issues at http://epo.endorphinum.de
and check out the “blog-o-meter” or “blogspot” columns.
Greetings from Hamburg in Germany!
September 28th, 2009 at 10:40 am
Funny post and too true. I’ve experienced untold cheers at many an event’s end only to find they were for grandmas, pre-pubescents or clumping Colonel Sanders characters about to rumble past.