Running past where Lionel Ritchie close the ‘84 Olympics with “All night long”, where G’n'R played support to the Rolling Stones, and where I had just run 27 Kilometres..

Part space-man, part Dio, all exhaustion, and a few tears.

Ten days ago, I ran 26.2 Miles, or 42 Kilometres.
It was a beautiful and perfect day for the run, which started at Universal Studios over in Burbank and, ran through a gorgeous array of LA neighbourhoods.

It was a beautiful thing!
We ran through all kinds of ethnically diverse areas, Korean, Hispanic, African-American, you name it, we ran through it.
Thousands of volunteers handing out water and fruit, community groups with their own water stations, even families who had dragged their own living room tables out on to the street so that they could cut up oranges and have their kids hand them out to runners passing by. A sense of incredible community permeated through the whole day. My name was printed on my race bib, so as I ran by, people I didn’t know were making up cheers, “Go Andrew, you’re looking great!” and “All the way Andrew! You can do it”.

Anyone that’s ever run for more than two hours straight will know that these little spikes in sensory experience help snap you out of the all-encompassing agony that is building slowly in your body, so it was a lovely treat.

Funk bands set up in front yards jamming on riffs with the singer improvising lyrics “Keep on runnin’! One foot in fronnoftheotha!” etc. Gospel groups in front of churches singing uplifting spirituals, Korean koto drum groups beating those huge instruments so hard I felt the thumps in my chest. The best moment of all, was as we ran through what I think was Inglewoood or something, (it was on Martin Luther King Blvd, so I think that tells you what part of town we were in). There was a handsome, greying Africa-American man, sitting on a chair from his living room that he’d dragged out on to the pavement, with a crutch in one hand, one foot on the ground and an above-the-knee stump for a left leg, just shouting out to us “You can run! You can run!”. It was awesome.

I was on a steady sub four-hour pace until mile 18, where I needed to stop for a wee and a stretch. Unfortunately, I was never able to regain my momentum, and slipped into what is known as “the hole”. A place where you can’t run any faster, and your muscles start to resist full range of motion, which causes you to run slower and slower. It was pretty painful.

Again, the sense of community overwhelmed me. A super-fit Korean lady from Virginia named Monica asked me how I was doing, at around mile 19 to which I replied ” I’m hurting”.

She said “Well run with me, I can help you get there”.

For the next three miles, she paced me, constantly offering words of encouragement and inspiration (Pain is temporary, glory lasts forever; Andrew I’m so proud of you!) etc. Monica informed me that she was running the LA Marathon as a ‘recovery run’ as she’d run a grueling marathon in the mountains of Nevada the day before and was just doing this run for fun. She was in her forties, in a pink mini-skirt and flowers in her hair, Monica ran like she was thinking about what she was going to pick up from the shops for dinner that night, at 9 minute mile or 6 1/2 minute Kilometre pace. I’ve got a long way to go!

Eventually, Monica went on ahead, and I fought rapidly shortening muscles and encroaching tears to make it to the finish line in downtown L.A. It was as I imagined, I turned a corner to what I can only describe what it was like to turn up Oxford street in Sydney when we marched at mardi gras back in 2000. A sea of people, all cheering and shouting out our names, all cheering “It’s only half a mile, you can do it! Keep going!” It was overwhelming. I’m tearing up thinking about it.

I crossed the finish line at 4 hours and 28 minutes on my watch and the official time was 4:39. On the other side of the finishing gates, there were LA Fire Department guys who’d formed a tunnel for all the runners, and as I walked past them, at least four of them looked me square in the eye, patted me on the back or shook my hand and said “Well done! You’ve done it! Good job!”. Again the tears wanted to come. It was so sincere and awesome.

Before I knew it, I was in my space blanket which made me feel very futuristic and like a super-hero all at once, (as it doubled for a cape) and headed to the reunion area where I lay down on the grass (before I fell down) and assumed the foetal position.

Truly an incredible, and very emotional experience.
I can’t wait to run another one.
Mainly because I enjoyed “Andrew’s pre-marathon carbo-loading Vegie Burger tour of LA” in the week before.

xx aa

I’ve got balls, you’ve got balls, yes even you with lady balls.
Travis Pastrana has B A L L S.
Either that or rocks in his head.

Seriously, you’ve goddabefugginkiddinme…