This body of mine has gone alot of places and done a lot of things. While it’s true I’m not ripped like Marky Mark and I don’t work out that often, I still keep in pretty good shape and it amazes me sometimes what I can push myself and my little gut to do.
Last Sunday, while others were tucked safely in bed, dreaming about God knows what, this body that has accompanied me for 20 years showed me just how tough it really is and hauled ass with me for 26.2 miles around D.C. in the 26th annual Marine Corps Marathon.
I’ll be honest with you. I really didn’t think that I was gonna make it. I may have been cruising through the first five or six miles, but by mile 10 my legs felt like sand bags and I entered a state of delirium where all I could picture was a warm bed and a nice filling meal. Running a marathon is funny: No matter how fast or prepared you are, there is always a 90-year-old man who breezes past you and finishes the thing in three hours. If that doesn’t make you feel weak and pathetic then I don’t know what will. Although it does give you a greater respect for old people.
Anyway back to my story. I trained all summer in a program called D.C. FIT. I didn’t really follow the strict running regiment as I was supposed to, but I did go almost every other weekend to run with my group as long as it didn’t meet at five in the morning when, like the rest of the world, I was still usually in a comatose state. When I did get up though, it was really nice. There is something comforting about running. You get in a zone where it is just you and the road. It can also be really pretty if you are running when the sun comes up.
Until this summer, I don’t think I had seen the sun rise since high school. It felt good in that respect to once again be a morning person.
Running the marathon was one of the best experiences of my life and at the same time one of the toughest. I’m sure there are some of you who are reading this who ran the marathon on Sunday or who have run a marathon before who are saying, “What is he talking about it wasn’t that hard.” Well I take my hat off to those who had no problem with it because I almost died. It was around mile 14 that the fatigue first started to set in. The halfway point is the worst part of the whole race. Knowing that you are halfway there, but at the same time knowing that you are only halfway friggin’ there. I was running under a bridge somewhere along the Potomac with about 300 people around me. They must have all been part of a group because they were all smiling and singing the Rocky theme song. I felt like yelling at them and saying “Shut the hell up, can’t you see I’m dying here.” Who the hell smiles and sings after 14 miles and two and a half hours of running? They must be crazy.
And then it happened.
I was paying such close attention to the crazies, that I tripped in a pothole and fell to the ground. Pain shot through my leg. I thought I was done for. I walked over to the side of the road and layed down. As I lay in the grass I started to drift away and I thought of giving up. I was so tired and dizzy and did not want to continue on. I just wanted to sleep. Then all of a sudden, like a voice in a dream, I heard something familiar. “Hey, the Yankees suck! You wimping out boy?” There were two Marines standing over me, smiling.
I was wearing my Yankees hat so they must have figured I was from New York. They extended a hand and I groggily sat up and grabbed it. They helped me back up to my feet and brushed me off. One of them reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of GOO which he gave me. GOO, for those of you who don’t run, is a flavored energy gel that you take to get strength and caffeine in the system. I drank it quickly. It was a gross chocolate flavor, but it tasted really good at the time. Then the two Marines said “huaaah” and pushed me onward to keep running, which I did, thank God. I never thought I’d feel that patriotic, but at that moment I really felt a strong connection to the Marines and to our country, which is not normally like me. I owe a lot to those guys.
Approximately three hours later, about five and a half hours into the race, I finished the Marine Corps Marathon. It was the greatest feeling in my life. As they extended that shiny garbage bag-looking thing to me and I crossed the finish line and got my medal I felt like a champion. I felt proud to be an American, too. I had run 26.2 miles with people that I didn’t know, but along the way I had conversation, shared stories and got a lot of help from people who were just good hearted human beings.
Thank you to all those who cheered for me, thank you to all those who ran with me and thank you most of all to those two Marines without whom I would probably still be lying by the highway. I am done with my first marathon and it feels good, but this is certainly not the last big race for Matthew Hopkins.
