Marathon Amnesia?

I'd love to know the percentage of marathoners that say, "Never Again!" after completing their first marathon. I bet it's a pretty high number. When I crossed that finish line I was a mixed bag of emotions—excited, overwhelmed, proud, and amazed. I remember crying after crossing the finish line and having no idea why other than it being the result of shear emotional overload. On the flipside, however, I could barely walk. Every nerve ending in my body hurt, every muscle was twitching, I felt lightheaded, and I had a huge blister on one foot. Later that night I discovered I was the proud owner of my first "runner's toe" (a black toenail which later fell off). The exhaustion I felt was beyond any "tiredness" I had ever known.

The year was 1997 and my first marathon was the New York City Marathon. My hotel was only three blocks from the finish line, but due to the finish-line set up that year, the finishers were corralled down a narrow path for what seemed like miles. The next day, I actually counted and discovered I was 10 blocks from the finish line before I was able to get out of the stream of runners. That's 10 blocks out, 10 blocks back, and then the three blocks to my hotel. Walking 23 blocks (about 2.3 miles) after running 26.2 miles is not what I had envisioned after such an emotional finish. I did pass Peter Jennings walking his golden retriever on my return journey, which was kind of cool, but that provided only a brief distraction from the full-body pain I was experiencing. When I finally got in my room and plopped on the bed, I said out loud, "Never Again."

A month later I was pondering what my next marathon was going to be. Huh? I had just pledged out loud in my NYC hotel room not a month earlier that I'd never again run a marathon. Been there done that. So, why was I entertaining the idea of putting myself through that torture again? I've wondered about this paradox a lot and I've finally come to the conclusion that I must suffer from marathon amnesia. This revelation came to me when I realized that my wife and I suffer from a similar condition—maternity amnesia. After the long hours of hard labor my wife endured and the sleepless nights that came for both of us after each child, we vowed that was it. Yet somehow we'd forget that vow and 4-5 years later, Voila! the next child appeared. I'm a pretty smart fella, but it took me almost a decade to catch on to this maternity amnesia syndrome that we were experiencing. I've concluded that it must be nature's way of ensuring our existence. I think we've finally been cured from the maternity amnesia—it's going on 9 years since our third child was born. Shew! (Knock on wood.)

Marathoning is a phenomenon that non-runners probably won't ever understand, and who can blame them. Why do we get up before the crack of dawn to run under the moon and the stars? Why do we spend our hard-earned money on running shoes, expensive gadgets, high-tech fabric running clothes, and jog bras (well not me, but you get the gist)? And why do we run ourselves into the ground with pulled hamstrings, plantar fasciitis, and then spend months recovering just to get injured again? My running group jokes about how great it would be if we earned "frequent runner miles" that we could redeem at the sports doc for whom we provide a great deal of business.

So what is it about running 26.2 miles that causes us to soon after forget the pain? I'm sure every runner has a different reason for blanking out on the pain they've endured, but for me I think I'm a bonafied accomplishment junkie. I thrive on setting goals and working hard to achieve them. I think that's what I like about the marathon—the process of getting there. I've never been big on participating in team competitive sports, but with running, I love competing with myself, always trying to do better than the last time. And of course it goes without saying that all marathoners at least dream about one day running the ultimate marathon—Boston.

The funny thing is that no matter how hard-core you might become against running any more marathons, somewhere down the road, I bet you'll at least contemplate running another one. You may not own-up to it, but I bet you'll ponder it. A fellow runner and good friend of mine is a bonafied, card-carrying member of NMMC (No More Marathons Club). Guess what she's doing to celebrate her 50th birthday? Running the Boston Marathon! Okay, I'm trying not to smile.

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