The Marine Corps Marathon 2004, page 4 of 5

No more time for walking! Run! Run like the wind! Never mind that there seems to only be four of us left, we're pushing onwards.

And now, a piece of advice for anyone who's going to run a race. You may see, if you look closely, something flapping on the back of Ana's singlet. I cannot stress this information enough: if you're pinning anything to your outfit in a race, always make sure you fasten all four corners. Otherwise, no matter how still the air is, somehow or another it will flap up and no one can read it! And now, back to the race.

As our group enters Hains Point we're down to just six people (Chris, Randy, Pam, Julie, me, and Gelareh). You may notice that this picture seems to be listing a little bit to one side. To be honest, I think that's how some people in our group felt. (Heck, another 500 feet and we lost two more members.) More importantly, is that woman on the far right carrying a football? Doesn't she know that this is a marathon?

No, I'm not strolling! After having sprinted up the hill at Iwo Jima and finding no finish line as promised, I suddenly and abruptly ran out of all energy. This is a pretty good pose but the reality is that I was starting to stagger at this point, cursing and wondering where the heck the end of the race was.

I honestly look like I'm going to cry here. Where the hell is that finish line? And more importantly, where the hell is my energy? The look in my eyes says, "I want to quit right now. I don't care that I'm less than a tenth of a mile from the finish line. I don't see it, I'm discouraged, I want to go home." (That's it, I am never ever sprinting up that damn hill again, I don't care how many people cheered and applauded like mad when I did it. Just wasn't worth it, no sir.)

It seems that Julie had to make sure Pam was still moving at this point. I think she felt even worse than I did, and she had the good sense to not run up that freaking hill. Ugh.

© 2001-2008 Greg McElhatton.