Mimosas, Bacon, Run Forrest Run, Touchdown, and A Beer

Mimosas, Bacon, Run Forrest Run, Touchdown, and A Beer

John Paul Derryberry

The on-your-mark, set, ready, go, occurred about 2 minutes ago. As the runners unloaded from the starts corral, I slowly made my way to the start line on a beautiful fall morning. Finally, the clock showing the time that had passed from the starter's pistol was in my sights. As I got ready to cross the start line roughly 3 minutes after the starter pistol went off, I turned to the stranger next to me and said, "I think one of the Kenya runners just finished." He chuckled and we started our race. He took off fast, and I reminded myself, "do not do that"-- 26.2 miles is a long way to go, and I have experience screwing up this race.

Eighteen months of running during the pandemic, total miles north of 1,600, and my running goal of a sub-4-hour marathon is now in front of me. The only mantra in my head is to find your groove after a warm-up mile one. By mile 4, I seem to have found my footing because my mouth is itching to talk to people in the cheering sections! Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see a guy pouring orange juice into a cup. I yell, "better make me a mimosa," and he yells back, "do you want one!"

I cross mile 10 after seeing my personal cheering section at miles 8 and 9 feeling great, but you are supposed to feel good at this point in a marathon. I turn a corner and head to the Drake University section. I see a clothesline with bacon attached. I do a quick equation, factoring in my goal of having as much fun as possible while running this race and finishing in under four hours. It works out to eat the bacon; math is funny that way.

Mile 15, I'm greeted by my cheering section again, going crazy and holding a "Run Forrest Run" sign. It's a funny inside joke about my actual distaste of the movie, Forrest Gump. As I run by, I hear, "John see you at mile 20." They have no clue how good it feels to know I will see them at mile 20. That's the start of the no person's land, miles 20-25; long enough to be exhausted, not close enough to the finish to have the last jolt of adrenaline. At mile 20, there they are again. I see them, look at my watch, and proclaim, "I've got a shot at this guys!"

At mile 22, a couple of kids in the crowd are playing football and I yell, "I'm open". So the kid throws a perfect strike. I toss it back, and they all scream "touchdown!". It's the home stretch. The crowd thins, and while my clock says I'm on pace, it's starting to inch up closer and closer to the 4-hour mark. I'm telling myself I'm conserving energy for the last part, but the reality is, I'm spent. It's going to be a battle. I think I'll win, but there are some doubts. Just like in life!

Unbeknownst to me, my cheering section at the finish line saw it was getting close and booked it for the mile 25.8 mark. As I pass them, I hear "John, you got 10 minutes to make it home in under 4 hours". But I barely notice them or what they said. Then, as I turn to pass them again, they are both practically in the street; they flip me a beer and yell, "get there, John". It's the pep talk I need. I crack the beer, and hear the crowd erupt with a, "He's finishing with a beer." I look around, and my two friends are running alongside me. It's entirely against the rules, but who cares at this point. All of a sudden, I'm not exhausted anymore.

The announcer at the finish line said, "Let's hear it for all the 4-hour runners". Such an accomplishment, coming from the announcer. I crossed the finish line at 3 hours and 56 minutes! I started working toward this goal at age 27 and took 12 years to complete it. There are still milestones to achieve at 39! Still dreams to chase down and 3/4 of a beer to drink in celebration. What's next? I have no clue, but the reminder "I can" is essential. The reminder I only did it because of a support system is doubly significant. After the race, the urge I had was whether I could get down to 3 hours and 40 minutes. That's the best sign that I'm not finished. And neither are you, none of us are, and maybe that's what my message ultimately is. Ups and downs are a part of life, so are emotions, but your story is not finished, and we can improve it. Cheers, my readers; maybe my speaking will one day be big enough to pack Madison Square Garden, perhaps it won't. But the pursuit of that goal means I'll help a lot of people along the way! And in return, they'll help me.