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FLASHSALE
If you’re ever feeling ambitious and ponder running a Marathon…. Forgot that thought. This is, at least, what I told myself 17 miles deep smashing a Pineapple mimosa and an abnormally large meatball from the rambunctious crowd of the Steel City.
As I digested this meaty ball of goodness, nipples saturated in a sea of red with an average heart rate of 180…. I had one of those, yup that’s me, you’re probably wondering how I ended up here moment. Allow me to enlighten.
A year ago, a buddy of mine, let’s refer to him as the Devil (It was our brand ambassador Conner) talked me into running our second marathon. We had recently finished our first marathon in the Boonies of Gainesville Florida. While it was no easy feat, we finished mostly unscathed, neither of us pooped ourselves and most importantly, I had nipples by the end of it. For two below average runners who turned 30 and decided running would be their new way to punish themselves, we felt this was a W.
When I agreed to this new running voyage, El Diablo left out a few easter eggs such as the marathon was in Pittsburg and apparently the great state of Pennsylvania is home to hills…. Rolling hills. “Much of the state is characterized by rolling hills, plateaus, and ridges, particularly in the central and western regions.”
A quick google search indicated this marathon would be that of climbing mount doom. However, my research was nonexistent and when we touched down in the gloomy, rainy and industrial looking city of Pittsburg It became apparent this journey of ours would be riddled with incline.
As I stepped off the plane in my flip flops and breathed in the metropolis polluted air, I knew I had made a mistake. I thought to myself, “Who does this shit? Buys a flight, pays for pain, pays for their nipples to be tattered like a Minnow dropped into a Beta fish tank?”
We do, that’s who. Like bird watching, running marathons is a passage into your 30’s.
But hey, at least the room temp Mich Ultra is free after!
Fast forward one day later and the ides of march were upon us. It was a perfect day to run with all the Yinz in Steel City. The sun was engulfed by clouds; rain was in abundance like the Salmon of Capistrano and the wind howled like a pack of wet dogs. But screw it, I paid $200 for this, let’s roll!
Mile 1: I’m feeling good. Ross (a buddy of ours) is screaming into his air pods “Siri, put on Tim Dillon.”
Mile 2: I am feeling Bad. Turns out beers the night prior was not the best idea. Ross is still yelling at his air pods and conner is smiling because why wouldn’t he be.
Mile 3: My Garmin watch has alerted me how unhealthy I am with a training status of (-6)
Mile 4: Heart rate of 165. Not optimal.
Mile 5: The rain has increased and so have my bowel movements. Too early to poop though.
Mile 6: Boo Boo belly has commenced. Porty potty stop #1. Good news, there is 1 Ply TP.
Mile7: Due to digestive concerns, I have lost my running group. I utter a faint whisper “See you on the other sides brothers.”
Mile 8: so many hills, why are there so many hills!
Mile 9: Headphones have died, my band aid nipples have evaporated due to the rain, and I can feel the friction.
Mile 10: Heart palpitations begin and so does the scenic tour of Pittsburg
Mile 11: To not collapse I decided to distract my mind with the scenery. I gaze at the beauty of the unkept sidewalks, the industrial buildings belching black smoke and the subtle black and gold riddled everywhere. I wasn’t alive in London for the black plague, but I imagine it was a lot like Pittsburg.
Mile 12: I am greeted by the first of the “Three sisters bridges.” A fellow runner passing by me exasperates, “ First of 3 HAHAHAHAHA”
The nerve.
Mile 13: Bridge one is complete and the bystanders cheering us on yell “Half way there.”
So defeating.
Mile 14-16: Darkness overtakes me. Death greets me and I welcome it gladly.
Mile 17: I am awoken from my cardio induced coma by the rowdy crowd of steel city offering me Mimosas, meatballs, crabcakes and everything of the sort. For a moment, I forgot I am in the most pain of my life.
Mile 18: I have a sugar high from the pineapple Mimosa, the juice is loose!
Mile19: I have Boo Boo Belly from Pineapple Mimosa. I do not feel good. Potty stop #2. Toilet paper is scarce and so is morale.
Mile 20- 23: A mirage of people telling you to “keep going” and “hey man that shirt of yours is really bloody are your nipples ok., we need a medic!” plays on repeat for 3 miles.
Mile 24: What feels like the longest mile of all time. Like an endless loop of Interstellar, time does not move. (Me watching my past self sign up for this marathon)
Mile 25: Just one more mile, time to slap my gut and finish strong. If you hurry, you’ll catch the guy running with no legs.
Mile 26.1: Wait why am I still running? You mean the city of Pittsburg isn’t mapped out to exactly 26.1 miles!?
Mile 26.5: I finish and let out a gasp like a finished in first place. Close, I finished 23,489th.
In all seriousness, While I felt horrible the entirety of the race, the Pittsburgh Marathon was a blast and recommended anyone to try it out, just train for the hills unlike us and bring some close toed shoes….. That city be cold!
