2018_WinterEnquirer-DIGITAL

11
THE RACE BEFORE THE RACE
By Leonardo Zamudio
Waking up at 3:45 AM is rarely an entertaining proposition, but when it’s so that you can go and actually try to
run for 3 hours and 45 minutes, it’s even more daunting. The Chips bus waits for no one (okay, so maybe they
do, I just don’t want to try and find out), so I wanted to make sure I was at the Capitol at least a few minutes
before the boarding time of 4:45. There are so many things running through your head before the start when
you’re racing 26.2 miles and up, whether it’s your first or your fifth, that it’s so easy to just not pay attention to
where you’re driving until all of a sudden you’re having to turn right because you drove up to the finish line in
front of the Capitol instead of looking for parking! Luckily I was able to find a spot a couple of blocks away and
make it to the party bus with minutes to spare.
Leonardo celebrates
finishing his 5th CIM.
The ride to the start gives you more to ponder, as you know you are traveling
the distance backwards you will have to race, so every mile you travel is logged
in your head as one that you will have to come back on. Sometimes it’s better
to not look out the window and think about it too much. Pulling up in a line of
yellow school buses creates imposing rows, akin to the tunnels boxers walk out
of en route to the ring. The cushioned shuttle seats of the Chips bus give many
reasons for one to not want to go out and brave the elements, but as countless
runners know, you don’t want to be on the course in the middle of nowhere
when nature calls. Rows upon rows upon rows of buses make way for one long
row of port-a-potties with lines upon lines upon lines of people, each one going
through their own pre-race routines. These are the moments that bring marathoners
together, a community united in the buildup to the race.
As the first rays of sunlight started to break through the darkness and clouds, runners began to make
their way to moving trucks where a scene not unlike Pike’s Place Fish Market unfolds; countless bags
being launched through the air like fish into the waiting arms of volunteers. The crowd keeps a bit of the
warmth that I lose with having to put my sweats in the bag that will make its way to the start line hours
before I will arrive, but the cold air serves as a reminder
that the start time is quickly arriving. Dawn comes fast
as I nervously wonder what I forgot to grab out of my
bag, as there’s no going back now. Weaving through a sea
of bodies on my way to pace signs that start with the
number 3 I see familiar faces around me, whether I even
know them or not: the familiar faces of runners about to
embark on 26.2 miles of trials, challenges, and successes.
As waves of runners start to inch forward, only one
thought enters my head, here we go again...