Was it all a dream or was I
really being chased by David Rothenburger?
It has been said that dreams
about being chased represent your way of coping with fears in your waking life.
Instead of confronting your problems,
you are running away from them and avoiding them. Your own feelings of anger, jealousy or fear
can assume the appearance of the threatening figure. You may be projecting these feelings onto the
chaser. The next time you have a chase
dream, turn around and confront your pursuer. Ask them why they are chasing you.
That is exactly what I was
thinking when I looked behind me at the 26 mile mark of last week’s Colfax
Marathon. “David, just let me coast
across the finish line,” I thought.
The day got off to an
inauspicious start. My bag fell into the
porta-potty; plop, right in a pile of you know what. Maybe it was an omen.
Usually there are two forms races
take. Runners hold different paces and
gradually drift apart or one runner flies and dies and is summarily passed by other
runners. My race against David was a classic
back and forth battle as evidenced by our times at the checkpoints.
First
|
Last
|
6.4 Mile Split
|
10.1 Mile Split
|
16.1 Mile Split
|
20.1 Mile Split
|
TIME
|
CARL
|
MATHER
|
44:06:00
|
1:09:31
|
1:50:37
|
2:19:15
|
3:06:37
|
DAVID
|
ROTHENBURGER
|
43:34:00
|
1:08:58
|
1:50:46
|
2:18:56
|
3:06:45
|
My Garmin lost its satellite
connections at the ½ marathon mark, which was a little ironic as that is about
when I lost interest in the race. But as
the course made the left turn onto 20th Street, I spotted David’s
white singlet and unmistakable gate.
Slowly I drew closer to him, eventually passing him at mile 15. Hoping to gain time on the downhill, I tried
to press the pace, but my legs didn’t respond.
David passed me at mile 18 and
quickly had a large lead. By the time I
entered Mile High Stadium, David was through the other side. I caught David at mile 22 and we ran together
for a bit. Mike Quispe joined us and gave
us encouragement. I was in no mood to
talk, but Mike’s presence was comforting.
Either Mike’s voice drifted back
or my mind drifted, but I soon realized I was alone. During the latter stages of a marathon the
mind can go into some crazy dark places.
I turned around at mile 24 and didn’t see David.
I got a side-stitch. Hunched over pinching my side, I hobbled
along for the next two miles. Then, just
after the 26 mile mark drifted below my feet, I turned around and there was
David, showing up like a bad penny. I
did a ‘Feet don’t fail me now’ and held on to finish eight seconds ahead of
David.
It took everything I had in me to
hold David off. The proof is that my
legs gave out just after I crossed the finish line. Luckily, a volunteer was there to catch me
before I collapsed. I put my hands on my
knees and told her I was fine. I took
two steps and my legs gave out again.
“Get a wheelchair!” she shouted.
“I don’t need that,” I said. “Just
help me walk a little.” She did and I
was OK in a few seconds.
