My One and Only

This is an early morning picture from the one time I have trained for and completed a marathon. I'm feeling good. But perhaps not as focused as I might have wanted to be. I'd just finished a hotel-lobby breakfast and was able to walk right to the start. Kirk took the picture.

I look sleepier in this one, I think. Don't let the Salt Lake City Marathon 5K shirt fool you. The marathon I chose to be my first was the Park City Marathon. My training for this one included many workouts at the Rail Trail, a part of the course for the day's event. My training runs had also taken me to London (Serpentine Club 5K, Hyde Park), the streets of Paris, Antelope Island, and Mill Creek Canyon. My big workouts were on Sundays and usually took the better part of the day. But this one, the Park City Marathon would prove to be my one and only 26.2 miler.

Here's the last photograph Kirk took that morning. I've got a skier's legs or hockey quads. But not exactly a marathoner runner's ideal build.

I finished the run. Slowly. In the last few miles, I had so much back pain that I could hardly lift my feet. Had it been a training day, I certainly would have stopped. Iced it. I didn't really give it much thought at the time, but I was in enough pain that the change of surface from gravel to, say, a wooden bridge, would be enough to have me groaning. In hindsight I realize that I should have been running in trail-oriented shoes, if not for the day's event, at least for all those workouts on the gravel surface of the Rail Trail. Or I should have chosen gentler terrain for my workouts. You want to emulate the conditions for the event, sure. But not so much when you're prepping for a marathon by completing 15 or 20 mile workouts.

But I finished. And Kirk was there. Concerned. And ready to take the photograph as I crossed the finish line. I'll dig up the photographs later. But for now I want to emphasize that the marathon wasn't the only one and only on that day. I really like these photographs because Kirk took them. I look dorky, of course. I always do. But that Kirk was there that morning, paying his dues as my supportive partner. He was there at the start. He was there at the finish. And Kirk is my one and only. Someday, who knows, I'll probably run another marathon. But there will only be one person who is truly my partner, one who is truly with me. Even in the early-morning crowd at the start line of a marathon.