Notes From The Past That Inform The Present:
I’ve been in my car on the interstate and had a blow out, the vehicle fishtailing and me frantically pulling off to the shoulder.
I’ve also been in my car doing in excess of the speed limit on the highway and had the computer crash, leaving the car without power and me once again frantically pulling off to the shoulder.
Today while running in Guam I experienced similar mission critical failures.
I had set multiple alarms just in case… I needn’t have bothered as I kept waking up throughout the (short) night to make sure the alarms were on. The last time I awoke around 1 AM and just decided to rise and shine.
My weather app warned me it would be a dark and humid run. My own personal weather forecaster, namely me as I walked out the door of the hotel, confirmed it.
I was a little worried about that lightning storm percentage forecast but they had that pretty much all day yesterday and it was a glorious, sunny day so… you know where this is going… the heavens would eventually open up and rain down upon me like, well, rain. But more on that in a moment.
Given the pre-dawn hours of starting and running, I knew my notoriously awful in low-light and maybe just in general iPhone camera was going to produce subpar images. I didn’t realize just how sup-bar but, like the rain forecast “foreshadowing” above, more on that in a moment. Complicating matters, I had thrown my phone into my waterproof phone pouch so I would be shooting through plastic vinyl. I’ve ruined more than a few Apple phones because of heat and humidity during marathons so when I know it’s going to be tough weather I try and get going with some sort of mitigating planning. And because of the rule of threes when it comes to writing, consider this a third “foreshadowing” moment.
Why am I putting “foreshadowing” in quotes? Who do I think I am? A tweeting President?
Some pre-race shots, featuring the neon starting tunnel which is apparently a Guam Marathon tradition.
When someone asks if you want a photo with the Guam Angels, you don’t ask, “Who are the Guam Angels?” You just say, “where do you want me?”
They’re also apparently something of a United Guam Marathon (sometimes abbreviated as UGM) tradition. Without halos, I felt they were more Guam Fairies but, hey, ya know what? They can be angels.
I was particularly moved at seeing them respectfully stand for the National Anthem… and the Guam Hymn. I wish I had video’d it rather than trying to get still shots — the hymn was actually quite lovely. I didn’t love the singer’s version of the National Anthem but he killed the Guam Hymn.
As promised by the pre-start staging map, there was indeed a Fire Show. I shot some animated GIFs but the internet connection at this Guam Business Motel is beyond shoddy… as is their power supply and water which has variously been shut off for repairs several times in the less than 2 days I’ve been here… two days? Three? I don’t know. I’ve lost track.
Still shots are easier to upload so…
As the final countdown commenced, I donned my sunglasses to see how that was going to go… the short answer is that it’s really, REALLY dark at 3 AM in Guam. On top of that, I look pretty “chinny” in there photos which only further body shames me. Can one body shame oneself? I think the evidence is pretty clear on all counts.
We were off with a burst of fire extinguishers into the night and a cascade of confetti shot into our path.
People were very, very fast out of the starting chute. Supposedly there were 600 or so marathoners (I didn’t hear the figures for the other events), and I think at least a hundred of them passed me in the opening kilometer. To be honest, I was struggling with the heat and humidity early on… I was dripping wet long before I was passed like an anchored ship in the night by a fleet of cigarette boats.
Did I mention it was dark? I’m surprised race organizers didn’t require headlamps or flashlights because in the late evening or is it early morning hours on Guam it’s pretty damn dark. All the moreso as the rolling clouds obscured what illumination the waning gibbous moon was providing. There were street lamps and portable generator lights but there was also long stretches of just… darkness. I found myself fretting over maybe phantom potholes and stumbling over discarded cups and gel packs. The latter wasn’t an issue at the numerous water stops — those volunteers did yeomen work and were bright spots in an otherwise lonely race. However, unlike the map showing numerous food stops, I think I only saw one “local cucumber” offering and a potentially murderous coconut shaving. As the day… or night… as the race dragged on, I sure could’ve used a banana or a Snickers. But to the best of my weary eyes, I didn’t see that on offer.
Seriously, did I mention the dark? Despite knowing the embarrassingly poor performance of the iPhone in low level light, I felt obligated to at least TRY and snap some shots. Here is both a perfect illustration of the run and a perfect illustration of why I may try a Samsung Galaxy when my Sprint contract is up for renewal:
I felt like I was doing pretty well, even with all the humidity and heat. I kept moving and was trucking along, dousing myself with cups of water at each water stop and knocking back some Gatorade or H2O while moving — not an easy thing to do. I sometimes when drinking on the run wind up snarfing. Wait — not snarfing. Snarfing is when you shoot the drink out of your nose, right? Or is that something else? Whatever the term is for inadvertently splashing the drink UP one’s nose while moving… or dribbling it all over one’s face without actually getting it into one’s mouth — that’s what happens sometimes when I try and drink and run at the same time. And the less said about my attempts to pat my head and rub my tummy at the same time the better.
Point was, I was moving along and clocking mileage and keeping it around 8 minute miles for a good bit of the time… and then somewhere around the halfway point, things got, well, fuzzy…
I started having problems catching my breath, felt a little light headed, and was stumbling back and forth along the roadway as if I were a drunken sailor on the first night of a 48 hour leave. Was I overheated? Did I not eat the right things? (I did have that nasty United Airlines chicken curry… some time in the not-too-distant past? Was that just 27 hours prior?) Was I just underslept and jetlagged? Or was I trying to force a recovery too fast and this was my body’s way of telling me, “Listen, buttercup… you may act like it’s no big deal but I’m here to tell you it’s a very big deal.”
Whatever the reasoning or causes, the reality and the effect were I saw my average mileage pace tick ever longer and harder.
It was as if I were in quicksand and no matter what I did to try and get myself moving forward, I just fell deeper and deeper into the mire.
I had a cramp. I was tired. I was still weaving along the road when I should’ve been in a straight line… and then the rain came.
At first it was great — helped cool things off and offered a refreshing breather. But then it got harder. And heavier. And the wind kicked up. Droplets of water the size of skittles fell (where were the Skittles, UGM? I was promised actual skittles, not this!). And with the wind, it came both from above and sideways, pelting my sopped shirt and bare skin. It hurt. And I was just… broken by it. I opted to shoot some video to try and capture the experience.
But as bad as all that was, it got way worse when the rain stopped. Because then it was as if the heat wanted revenge. It rose from the asphalt and enveloped me in a bubble of water and humidity and sauna-ness, a bubble of misery. I had already blown out my time. Now I had blown out my “give a darn” too.
In the closing kilometer, I tried to rally but my heart and mind and body and stomach weren’t in it. A cramp tightened in my side, as if a vise were trying to measure the not-so-lovely love handles and make a mockery of me. I just couldn’t seem to muster the strength to run it in to the finish line.
But I did finish… eventually. It was a less than stellar showing, a slow descent into madness. And just as I got to the medal tent to pick up my paper certificate results, the rain came once more. I think it adds a bit of weathered “treasure map”-ity to the thing. Because as quickly as the rain came again, it blew off shore and the sun came out… at least for a little while.
As I had flown on a United mileage ticket to get here, I was able to access the “Exclusive United Hospitality Tent”… along with a couple hundred other folks. There really aren’t that many airlines that serve Guam so it’s not that surprising there were a lot of us Star Alliance members.
I had an island favorite for breakfast… because it was breakfast. Though I’d been up for hours, it was just past 7:15 AM when I got there.
If Guam is “Where America’s Day Begins” (TM), I and several hundred runners and a legion of volunteers all began the day before a lot of Guamanians were up and about.
The Chamorro phrase (Chamorro are native Guamanians) for “hello” is “Håfa ådai.” It’s kinda like “Aloha” though as it has a lot of meanings wrapped up inside it. But it’s pronounced like “half a day” which is what I felt like as I stood on that beach finish line at 7:30 taking a selfie.
I felt like I’d done half a day already… or maybe even a full day. Like I said, I’m all messed up on times, place, and being.
And like I said in the video above, I’m more than a little worried about Boston in eight days. Eight days. Seven thousand nine hundred fifty-five miles from Guam according to Google. Plus 26.2 miles when I get there.
May fortune favor the dumb.
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And now a moment of Guam Zen…