The skies are dark, they're dark but they're clear
A distant motorcade and suddenly there's joy
The cold and ticker tape blurs all my senses numb
It's like the finish line where everything just ends
I'm done with this, I'm counting to ten
Brightest lights, running to them
I feel like I am watching everything from space
And in a minute I'll hear my name and I'll wake
I think the finish line's a good place we could start
Modified from Snow Patrol's The Finish Line
“I’m the official timekeeper and you have 3 minutes and 49 seconds to get to the finish line.” I just turned the corner and could see the glaring lights off in the distance. After 49 ½ miles, it comes down to running ½ mile in 3 minutes and 49 seconds. The man in the truck who proclaims to be the timekeeper is on my right and my nephew doing his best to pace me for the last ½ mile is on my left. “Mike, you got it, c’mon man, you got it!” Have you ever tried running ½ mile in 3 minutes 49 seconds after going 49 ½ miles?
I came back to the 2008 JFK to seek revenge. Although I had finished the 2006 race with nearly an hour to spare, I posted a DNF in 2007 by not making the cutoff time at Taylor’s Landing being 6 minutes late to the 38.6 mile aid station. The JFK is generally more of a mental test than a physical one, at least for me. The Marathon of Madness on the C&O canal towpath appears to be never-ending with a slight gradient of climb of no more than 3% for the entire 26 mile segment. The 8 miles of roads at the end over a gently rolling terrain almost feels good if it were not for the previous 42 miles. The Appalachian Trail for the first 16 miles requires focus and is so varied that it appears to go by quickly.
The world disappeared on the canal, especially for us back-of-the-pack runners. It became dark and lonely but the mission was clear – to finish. After mile 42, the sky was dark, the
surroundings dark, and the world dark but the magic trick was not complete. Disappearing was not an option although who would know? Runner Disappears at Mile 44 in JFK50! Of course, if I am going to run 44 miles, I am certainly going to get to the finish before disappearing. I also have a feeling that Shawn would have come looking for me.“I’m the official timekeeper and you have 3 minutes and 49 seconds to get to the finish line.” I keep hearing this repeated in my mind. I saw the motorcade off in the distance with the bright, glaring lights leading me to the finish like a beam of “light” leading me to heaven. Even with sub-freezing temperatures, I could only feel the warmth of those waiting. I could only imagine a ticker tape awaiting me. I was numb to the pain running on a cushion of air. The countdown continues, “one minute and 50 seconds”. Nothing changes as the finish line appears to move further away with each step. The lights are brighter and voices louder, “one minute and 30 seconds”. I am still a quarter mile to the finish. I never slow but never think. I just run. I try. I give it my best. “One minute... 30 seconds!” I’m counting to ten, brightest lights, running to them, nobody moves. “10, 9, 8…” but I am 100 meters away and even a world-class sprinter may not be able to run those 100 meters in less than 10 seconds. “7, 6, 5, 4…” and it is evident that I will not make the finish line cutoff. I’m done with this. I feel like I am watching everything from space. “3, 2, 1… The JFK 50 is officially over, thanks for coming out and see you in 2009!” What? I still have 30 meters to run. Ten seconds later, I cross the finish line in an unofficial finishing time of 12 hours and 10 seconds. And in a minute I'll hear my name and I'll wake. Do I want to? I look back to a million places where I squandered 10 seconds or maybe I should have just tried harder throughout. Whatever the case, the lesson has been learned and isn’t that the essence of doing better in life, failing and learning from it but continuing to move forward? I think the finish line's a good place we could start!
