Tokyo Marathon 02: Get Along Little Dogey

It took some doing to get to Corral E, where I was supposed to start. I squeezed into the line-up around the sign for Corral G, and began to slither my way up to the front. Around the sign for Corral F, I ran into a bit of a bottleneck. This place was packed, really packed. I felt like I was in a commuter train; you know, the kind where they have station agents ready to forcefully jam passengers in before the train doors close. I was on my tippy toes, just trying to keep moving forward with the crowd without losing touch with the ground. I thought of just jumping up and crowd-surfing my way to Corral E - riding high on the waves of humanity. With any luck, they'd pass me right up to the elite starting group; then I might have a chance to win this thing! Yeah...right.

Anyway, after sucking in my gut and thinking happy thoughts, I made it through the bottleneck and to Corral E. I would wait here until the the race began, starting right about in the middle of the pack. And so I waited, in the absolute silence. I swear, only in Japan can a massive crowd of 32,000 make so little noise. Conveniently, I was positioned near a big screen TV that was projecting the view from the starting line.

On the screen now were just the race officials, cheesing it up. They were probably happy the weather was actually cooperating this time (last year was bitter-cold rain). Waving at the crowd, thinking of how much money this mob would be raking in. That'd put a grin on the face of any "overworked" salary-man, quality family life or not.

Now the screen's image shifted to the starting line; the wheelchair division was about to start. These guys looked tough, spinning their wheels, gettin' ready. In their wedge-shaped speedmobiles, built for aerodynamics, they'd be crossing the finish line about 30 minutes before the first elite runners. I really admire these wheelchair athletes. People can really do some amazing things in a chair. I mean, just check out the guys in Murderball.

I didn't hear the gun go off. I only saw the TV image of the race official with the gun in his hand, and then the sharp jolt backward as it fired into the air. The wheelchair athletes were off before I knew it, speeding down the streets of Shinjuku. The first few kilometers of the course were downhill; that must have been a blast on wheels! Everyone cheered the wheelchair racers, even back here in Corral E. Our time was soon at hand.

The elites had lined up right behind the wheelchair racers. Their candor was refreshing; they were all smiles, chatting, hopping about. I wondered how life would be as an elite runner, earning a bit of celebrity in my racing flats. One good thing would be that you could start right as the gun goes off. And when the time came, that's just what they did.

And we followed, slowly. After a few seconds, my corral began walking to the starting line. A few more seconds, and I was picking up my feet, bouncing along with a slow jog. But then came the wall, not the infamous glycogen wall; that will come later, I thought. You know, the pre-starting line surge, where you start half-running, only to be stopped again at a wall of slower runners five seconds later.

As I trudged along, I saw a funny-looking man with a bowl hair cut and red-rimmed spectacles cheering on the sideline. I recognized him from Japanese TV, and some runners were shouting at him:

"Yama-chan, hashiru no?"

"Iya, muri desu!" he asserted, shaking his head and waving his hand in front of his face. I only smiled, trying (unsuccessfully) to feel just a little bit star-struck. I would liken seeing Yama-chan to spotting Bobcat Goldthwait, Howie Mandel or Donkey Lips from Salute Your Shorts. Kind of cool, but not really at all.

This went on and on for about 7 minutes; stopping and starting, moving along with the crowd. When I finally crossed the starting line, I was actually beginning to run at a nice pace. I'm guessing 9:30/mile or so. I would have to increase this pace if I wanted to finish in under 4 hours. But I wasn't thinking about that; I was just letting it all soak in. I was starting the Tokyo Marathon, and I was going to finish, no matter the time. My two prior attempts (once in Salt Lake City, again in Paris) would hold no bearing on the outcome of today. As I crossed that starting line, I could already sense the slightest taste of victory.

Tokyo Marathon 01: Failure to Pee in a Bottle

In order to recount the events of February 17th, 2008 to you, I've decided to post this blog in segments. How many segments is yet to be decided. However, as with most numbered lists, this list begins with 01.

**Failure to Pee in a Bottle**

The final stages of my marathon preparation actually began a couple of days before Sunday. That would be Friday, for those of you counting along. Friday night, I had a nice meal with Nobue, Steven, and my beloved Amy at a quirky restaurant nearby. This place was decked out in the fashion of such fine establishments as the Cracker Barrel, the Timber Mine, or the Quilted Bear. It certainly had an old-time feel to the place, complete with a rusted old jalopy frame in the parking lot, and an authentic traffic sign adorning the lobby. I felt like I had just walked into a saloon, looking for either some grub, gas, or a gunfight with the local sheriff.

The scene just got weirder from there. In stark contrast to the decor, they were playing smooth jazz over the speakers. I guess I shouldn't be so surprised over this. I mean, Japan seems to automatically associate smooth jazz with quality food. I've eaten Indian curry with smooth jazz in the background. And now that I think about it, that was some pretty damn good curry. But anyway, there was smooth jazz. In a weird, faux-western style restaurant.

The menu? Italian food, of course! I flipped through the menu, pleased to see a variety of palatable Western dishes. Ah yes. Pasta, salad, lasagna, and...and...let's see here, hmm, I must be mistaken. I'm missing the pizza. Does your menu have pizza? No? This place doesn't have pizza? It's an Italian restaurant...with no pizza? Foiled again, confound you, quirky Japanese faux-Western Italian chefs! Damn. But I had the lasagna anyway, and it was great.

Plenty of sleep Friday night to keep my body clock steady (they say that it's actually the sleep two nights before race day that's important).

Saturday was great; we chilled out. Stopped by the train station/mall, I got a hair cut for my big day (gotta look pretty for those marathon photos). And in the afternoon, I started my carbo-loading a bit early. I followed the same plan I had followed for my 20-mile training run three weeks prior. That is:

Spaghetti

Popcorn (a full bag, oh it was soooo good)

7 slices of ham

1 Cream Puff

Water

Water

Water

I went to bed in my running clothes, sans shoes. I wish I could have a better reason for this. You know, something scientific that proves that running gear should be slept in to enhance their performance the next day. But no, I was just excited. Not too excited to keep myself up, though. I slept fine, which is unusual for me before a big race. Most of the time, I'm either staying up worrying about if my alarm is set for the right time. I used to have dreams before all of my races, where I'd wake up late and miss the event for which I'd been in training for months...

Up bright and early, I got all my stuff together (extra clothes, bib number and timing chip, course map, two bananas, some ham, and gummi worms for the finish line). Amy and I took the 5:55am bus from Yoshimi to Konosu, then the 6:16am train to Shinjuku, where the race would begin at 9:10.

The math nerds reading this have already figured this out. But I awoke around 5am, and was to run at 9:10. That's 4-plus hours in between waking up and actually running. I would need more food than two bananas and ham, if I were to run 26.2 miles (42.195 km) in one go. So, after meeting up with some friends at Shinjuku, we headed to McDonalds!

I actually didn't eat much at Mickey D's, just a couple of pancakes. I was afraid any more would lead to a digestive dilemma somewhere along the marathon route.

After our trip to the golden arches, it was time for me to say goodbye to my cheering squad. Actually, a couple of my friends could only meet up at the starting line. They would be following along, tracking my progress on the Tokyo Marathon's runner update website. My friend Emma showed me a kick-ass shirtshe had made. It's too bad I wouldn't be seeing her along the course. Oh well, I really appreciated the gesture. I had a lot of people rooting for me in this challenge. I knew I had a long, hard road ahead of me, but I was determined to finish. And with that determination, I would head to the starting line, cramming into Corral E.

But first, nature called. With long lines at all the nearby lavatories, I wanted to try out a suggestion I had read from a Runner's World magazine. This stunt required an opaque poncho and an empty water bottle, both of which I had in my possession. So, I donned the poncho and tried to...use the water bottle. But unfortunately, the water bottle's rim-diameter was too narrow, and my attempt was thwarted. I wasn't even going to try and aim, not under that poncho. It would've been like playing those carnival water-pistol racing games, but blind-folded.

So, with a full bladder, I headed to the start of the 2008 Tokyo Marathon. Luckily, I spotted a lone porta-pottie on the way (with no line!), and I seized the opportunity. It was gonna be a good race.

Greetings

Hey folks,

Runner Kicks here.  I'm just starting out on this bloggin' thang, but I've been running off-and-on since 2004.  Starting up a running blog has been on my mind for a while, and I know I'm not the first to have this idea.  But I just thought I'd throw my hat into the ring, or put in my two cents.  After I get a few more blogs up, sorta like base miles, I'm aiming to create a running podcast to put out there.  Until then, I hope you enjoy a quasi-weekly peek into this runner's brain.

This blogging effort begins with your host in recovery.  I just ran the 2008 Tokyo Marathon a couple of weeks ago.  This was my first marathon completion (Yippee!).  The end of my training, the culmination of months of preparation, all came down to 42.195 kilometers on the streets of Tokyo.  As one endeavor ends, another begins; and so, I write.

First, a recap of the Tokyo Marathon.