Jamie Sipe
Going the Extra Mile: A Memoir of a Marathoner
By: Jamie Sipe
“You are crazy and no, I’m not going to do that with you,” Jessica’s text message read.
“I’ll be cheering you on at the end,” Jack supportively states.
“This will be my greatest accomplishment,” I positively think to myself.
"If you do this, you will end up in the hospital." My doctor forewarns me when he sees I have the onset of an pneumonia a week before the marathon.
A year worth of training, I wasn't about to let some quack scare me out of reaching my goal.
Shortly after eating whole wheat pasta, I nervously found my way to bed around 8pm the night before. I set my alarm for 1am and closed my eyes. After a fitful night of tossing and turning, my alarm sounded. With butterflies in my stomach, I got dressed in my strategically chosen outfit and double and triple checked my items I had set out the night before. Kissing Jack goodbye and grabbing a banana, I began my hour drive to Disney in the cool, early morning darkness. With very few people on the highway, I knew that I was close when traffic lanes were filling up. Following the signs for Disney and Epcot I was ushered in to park next to the car in front of me. Runners were emptying out of their vehicles in twos, threes, even fours. I cautiously stepped out of my Honda Civic heading in the direction the crowd was going.
Even in the before dawn darkness, the sky was lit up in concert lights and strobe lights. A D.J. came on over the blaring music, “Welcome all runners!! Bag check-in is divided up by last name located in the east side of the parking lot! Come get your picture taken up front!” I meandered through the crowds of people; some walking around talking to their running partners, others sitting down stretching and attempting to get warmed up. Nerves were getting the best of me, so a visit to the restroom was necessary. Soon after I was sitting and stretching, not knowing what else to do other than wait. I started to doubt if I could really do this on my own. I mean, everyone around me had a running partner; someone they trained every day with and supported each other when the other one wanted to give up. Surrounded by thousands of people, I felt lost and alone.
A few hours later, after I got my picture taken in front of the Disney Marathon billboard, we had to take a walk. We walked a ways to our corral placement. I found my corral letter and walked into the barrier of my group of “slow and steady wins the race” runners. Far up ahead were the 5 and 6 minute mile runners and then everyone in between. It was approaching 5:45, when the wheelchair racers start. BOOM! Fireworks explode overhead, the sound of Mickey Mouse cheering on runners at the start of their marathon. The corrals started to move up. Once a few more corrals started, I could see the stage. Mickey, Minnie, Daffy Duck, and Goofy were all there dancing around and encouraging us to do our best.
When my corral came up to the line, my training told me to start out slow and don’t burn myself out the first few miles, but the energy told me that I must run as fast as I could. And so I did, with music from my iPhone in my ears. Once the crowd started to disperse some, I slowed my pace realizing that I was about to cramp up. Out to the blocked highway we went jogging at a moderate pace. A few miles later we were approaching the Magic Kingdom. We jogged through the park’s car entrance and down a winding road to the city that is the Magic Kingdom. At this point I started to walk and jog on and off. Through the park we went when we were approaching the staple of Magic Kingdom...the castle. This was the first and very few times I stopped to get a picture. Around the castle we went, to the back of it only to jog underneath it. Spectators lined the sidewalks releasing vocal support; admiring and impressed.
Exiting the first park I became sick of my music and shut it off. I walked and jogged when I felt that I could on and off. Soon my back muscles began to bother me. Mind you, I never have had back pain, so I was confused as to what caused this set back. Through the golf course I would occasionally step off to the side where no one was running and reach down to touch my toes releasing all the pressure built up throughout my back. Passing water and medic stations, I would take handfuls of Biofreeze (which before this day, I have never used) and slather the green goop all over my back under my shirt. The cooling sensation was only a minor relief. At this point I’m not certain if I am halfway or approaching the halfway point. As we fast walk and jog, we pass several character stations where you can stop to get your picture with various movie characters. Although this is a nice way to lighten the mood of the marathon and not take it so seriously, I thought the people that were waiting in a line of 20 or more people were crazy! This was. for some people, a once in a lifetime race, and I wasn’t about to waste any time. As I’m thinking this, one person in general stuck out to me. Maybe it was the fact that he was wearing a too-too and a green jumpsuit, or maybe it was the flip flops I noticed he was wearing... But I really think it was the fact that he was getting his picture taken with every character and would run right past me....every...time. I mean, I trained a year for this marathon and I was getting smoked by someone who looked like this was a last minute decision!
Around mile 15 or so, the bottom of my foot was really starting to hurt. I’m not sure what could have went wrong. I did all the right things: went to a credible shoe store, trained in these exact same socks and shoes. How was I getting a blister on the bottom of my foot?! I was approaching mile 18 and all I could think was I am almost there. I started to get to get the occasional text message from my boyfriend at the finish line; wondering what mile I was at, making sure I was ok, and encouraging me. On the other side of the street were more runners coming from the ESPN Wide World of Sports. I turned around to see the mileage sign that they were passing; mile 22. Through the sports complex we went: around the football field, track, and the baseball diamond then back out to the street. Fatigue had long set in and the day was growing long and hot. An older gentleman laid in the shade with water and a medic trying to lower his body temperature, a woman beside me suddenly disgorged a mix of fluid and her breakfast. I knew that there was a thin lining of danger in completing this marathon in 85-90 degree weather. But this is what I trained in, this Florida heat in January, I preferred to run in the heat.
Approaching the 22 mile sign that I saw, what seemed like days ago, on the street two runners were creeping up closer to where I was walking and soon passed me, with balloons attached to their belts for identification. I heard whispers between runners around me, “Those are the sweepers.” “Sweepers” are runners that maintain the minimum speed to participate in the marathon, 16 minute miles. All the runners who are behind the sweepers at a certain point in the race will get picked up in buses and driven to the finish line. I looked up ahead where two busses sat parked right after our running path turns to the right. An overwhelming feeling in my chest surfaced; a mix of panic, fear, and sadness. I don’t know where it came from, through my exhaustion and pain, but I started running as hard as I ever have to catch up with the sweepers. Once I got a few feet ahead of them I had to jog to maintain my placement so that they wouldn’t pass me again. We turn the corner by the busses and suddenly my body shuts down. I stop, listening to my body, can’t catch my breath. I sat on the guardrail gasping for air, holding on to my chest...quick, loud, choppy breaths through my mouth. The burning behind my eyes I realized were tears. I few people asked, “Jamie, are you ok?” reading my name on my bib. I nodded my head yes and waved them to go on. I sat there a moment, having an internal conversation. “This is my body telling me I can’t do anymore. I’ve gotten this far, and thats ok.” This is the first time I made peace, in my mind, about not finishing the marathon. I start to control my breath more and look around. No one was going to come to get me, I had to keep going. So I got up and started walking; the crowd well ahead of me now.
Walking quickly turned into limping; pain from my foot and back becoming almost intolerable. I’m nearing a lake when a medic that was standing by the path stepped in front me and stopped me. He said, “I highly recommend that you stop and let us bring you to the finish line because this is the last stop and you still have a ways to go; three more miles.” I seriously considered it; pain clouding my judgement. But I thought about all those 3 mile runs I completed when training and how they were nothing, I could do it with my eyes closed. So I continued on around the lake, over a bridge, and to the back gates of Epcot. A few medics on bicycles were riding along the path making sure that we were ok, forcing me to stop at a water station so that they could douse me with water. I occasionally passed runners who were in worse shape than me, enduring an injury during the race and continuing on.
Upon entering Epcot, I passed the Mile 25 sign. I couldn’t believe I was a little more than a mile out from the finish line. I stopped to take a selfie in front of the sign. I was walking around the world at Epcot, passing tourists with their hands full of sausage with sauerkraut and beers...the one time in my life when the sight of a beer repulsed me. I text my family telling them I was close. I was headed towards the big Epcot ball and right when I was beside it there was the Mile 26 sign. I stopped and had someone take my picture; I look tense in the photograph to say the least. I continued walking and saw families and people waiting and cheering. I spotted my family, my nephew running out to meet me. He said, “Come on Jay Jay!” and starting jogging beside me, I told him I didn’t think I could but I would try. So at a slow jog we headed towards the finish line, my mom waving while video taping me, my boyfriend taking pictures. I gave Daffy Duck a high-five and crossed the elaborate finish line. I approached the stand of medals hanging and a volunteer placed one over my head. I had finally made it; 8.5 hours later. I walked off over to the right where the medic tents were and I sat on the closest bench. I physically couldn’t move anymore.
After a few minutes I knew I had to get up and go meet my family, the runner’s area blocked off to the public. I limped slowly around the gates and found Jack, immediately telling him I need to sit down. We went to my car and I sat in the passenger seat. The rest of my family came to my car and all I could think about was going home. I got out of the car to take pictures and briefly tell them about how it went. Jack drove me home, about an hour away. The entire car ride I felt sick, constantly on the verge of throwing up. We pulled into my driveway and I struggled to even lift my legs to get out of the car. I wobbled into the house, down the hall, straight for the bathroom. I put a stool in the shower and sat there with the hot water blasting on my legs. After a long steaming shower, I got dressed in my marathon tech shirt, placed my medal around my neck, and grabbed a beer. I had done it. I finished a goal that I made for myself that I assumed would be an easy feat. But in all actuality, it was the most difficult.
I obviously called off work for the next day and I was happy I did. I was exponentially more sore than the night before. A few days afterwards I was proud. I wore my medal to school that Tuesday and told everyone how challenging this race was for me and when they asked about my time, my response was, “I finished.” About a week after the marathon I started to feel disappointed. A wave of emotions was occurring inside of me; what I imagine runners might experience upon crossing the finish line, I was experiencing a week after. I was emotionally numb when I crossed the finish line and now it was all catching up to me. I became angry that I had such a terrible time and I wasn’t able to run like I envisioned this race would go. It was no longer a proud feeling of accomplishment and completion but a disgrace and disappointment of failure. I thought, “I have to run this race again because I know I can do better, run better, and finish with a better time.”
“No, I will not go to yoga with you...I’m a runner! But I guess I’ll come try it since I still have a blister on my foot.” my text to Jessica read.
“You are so hipster if you go to yoga,” Jack chimes in.
“I can’t believe I’m actually going to yoga. Ohh these yoga pants are comfortable!” I think to myself.
“Instead of running, why don’t you try yoga?” my doctor suggests.
I reluctantly met Jessica at Kula yoga studio, my cheap mat a towel in hand that I purchased at Target. I walk in, paying for one class, and I proudly announce, “I’m a runner, I’m just here because I can’t run right now and I need something active to do.”
I walk into the dimly lit studio, calm music playing in the background, candles and incense burning. I lay my mat down in the back corner, not wanting anyone to see me for fear of making a mistake. The instructor walks in, “Hello everyone, let’s begin in Child’s Pose.”
By: Jamie Sipe
“You are crazy and no, I’m not going to do that with you,” Jessica’s text message read.
“I’ll be cheering you on at the end,” Jack supportively states.
“This will be my greatest accomplishment,” I positively think to myself.
"If you do this, you will end up in the hospital." My doctor forewarns me when he sees I have the onset of an pneumonia a week before the marathon.
A year worth of training, I wasn't about to let some quack scare me out of reaching my goal.
Shortly after eating whole wheat pasta, I nervously found my way to bed around 8pm the night before. I set my alarm for 1am and closed my eyes. After a fitful night of tossing and turning, my alarm sounded. With butterflies in my stomach, I got dressed in my strategically chosen outfit and double and triple checked my items I had set out the night before. Kissing Jack goodbye and grabbing a banana, I began my hour drive to Disney in the cool, early morning darkness. With very few people on the highway, I knew that I was close when traffic lanes were filling up. Following the signs for Disney and Epcot I was ushered in to park next to the car in front of me. Runners were emptying out of their vehicles in twos, threes, even fours. I cautiously stepped out of my Honda Civic heading in the direction the crowd was going.
Even in the before dawn darkness, the sky was lit up in concert lights and strobe lights. A D.J. came on over the blaring music, “Welcome all runners!! Bag check-in is divided up by last name located in the east side of the parking lot! Come get your picture taken up front!” I meandered through the crowds of people; some walking around talking to their running partners, others sitting down stretching and attempting to get warmed up. Nerves were getting the best of me, so a visit to the restroom was necessary. Soon after I was sitting and stretching, not knowing what else to do other than wait. I started to doubt if I could really do this on my own. I mean, everyone around me had a running partner; someone they trained every day with and supported each other when the other one wanted to give up. Surrounded by thousands of people, I felt lost and alone.
A few hours later, after I got my picture taken in front of the Disney Marathon billboard, we had to take a walk. We walked a ways to our corral placement. I found my corral letter and walked into the barrier of my group of “slow and steady wins the race” runners. Far up ahead were the 5 and 6 minute mile runners and then everyone in between. It was approaching 5:45, when the wheelchair racers start. BOOM! Fireworks explode overhead, the sound of Mickey Mouse cheering on runners at the start of their marathon. The corrals started to move up. Once a few more corrals started, I could see the stage. Mickey, Minnie, Daffy Duck, and Goofy were all there dancing around and encouraging us to do our best.
When my corral came up to the line, my training told me to start out slow and don’t burn myself out the first few miles, but the energy told me that I must run as fast as I could. And so I did, with music from my iPhone in my ears. Once the crowd started to disperse some, I slowed my pace realizing that I was about to cramp up. Out to the blocked highway we went jogging at a moderate pace. A few miles later we were approaching the Magic Kingdom. We jogged through the park’s car entrance and down a winding road to the city that is the Magic Kingdom. At this point I started to walk and jog on and off. Through the park we went when we were approaching the staple of Magic Kingdom...the castle. This was the first and very few times I stopped to get a picture. Around the castle we went, to the back of it only to jog underneath it. Spectators lined the sidewalks releasing vocal support; admiring and impressed.
Exiting the first park I became sick of my music and shut it off. I walked and jogged when I felt that I could on and off. Soon my back muscles began to bother me. Mind you, I never have had back pain, so I was confused as to what caused this set back. Through the golf course I would occasionally step off to the side where no one was running and reach down to touch my toes releasing all the pressure built up throughout my back. Passing water and medic stations, I would take handfuls of Biofreeze (which before this day, I have never used) and slather the green goop all over my back under my shirt. The cooling sensation was only a minor relief. At this point I’m not certain if I am halfway or approaching the halfway point. As we fast walk and jog, we pass several character stations where you can stop to get your picture with various movie characters. Although this is a nice way to lighten the mood of the marathon and not take it so seriously, I thought the people that were waiting in a line of 20 or more people were crazy! This was. for some people, a once in a lifetime race, and I wasn’t about to waste any time. As I’m thinking this, one person in general stuck out to me. Maybe it was the fact that he was wearing a too-too and a green jumpsuit, or maybe it was the flip flops I noticed he was wearing... But I really think it was the fact that he was getting his picture taken with every character and would run right past me....every...time. I mean, I trained a year for this marathon and I was getting smoked by someone who looked like this was a last minute decision!
Around mile 15 or so, the bottom of my foot was really starting to hurt. I’m not sure what could have went wrong. I did all the right things: went to a credible shoe store, trained in these exact same socks and shoes. How was I getting a blister on the bottom of my foot?! I was approaching mile 18 and all I could think was I am almost there. I started to get to get the occasional text message from my boyfriend at the finish line; wondering what mile I was at, making sure I was ok, and encouraging me. On the other side of the street were more runners coming from the ESPN Wide World of Sports. I turned around to see the mileage sign that they were passing; mile 22. Through the sports complex we went: around the football field, track, and the baseball diamond then back out to the street. Fatigue had long set in and the day was growing long and hot. An older gentleman laid in the shade with water and a medic trying to lower his body temperature, a woman beside me suddenly disgorged a mix of fluid and her breakfast. I knew that there was a thin lining of danger in completing this marathon in 85-90 degree weather. But this is what I trained in, this Florida heat in January, I preferred to run in the heat.
Approaching the 22 mile sign that I saw, what seemed like days ago, on the street two runners were creeping up closer to where I was walking and soon passed me, with balloons attached to their belts for identification. I heard whispers between runners around me, “Those are the sweepers.” “Sweepers” are runners that maintain the minimum speed to participate in the marathon, 16 minute miles. All the runners who are behind the sweepers at a certain point in the race will get picked up in buses and driven to the finish line. I looked up ahead where two busses sat parked right after our running path turns to the right. An overwhelming feeling in my chest surfaced; a mix of panic, fear, and sadness. I don’t know where it came from, through my exhaustion and pain, but I started running as hard as I ever have to catch up with the sweepers. Once I got a few feet ahead of them I had to jog to maintain my placement so that they wouldn’t pass me again. We turn the corner by the busses and suddenly my body shuts down. I stop, listening to my body, can’t catch my breath. I sat on the guardrail gasping for air, holding on to my chest...quick, loud, choppy breaths through my mouth. The burning behind my eyes I realized were tears. I few people asked, “Jamie, are you ok?” reading my name on my bib. I nodded my head yes and waved them to go on. I sat there a moment, having an internal conversation. “This is my body telling me I can’t do anymore. I’ve gotten this far, and thats ok.” This is the first time I made peace, in my mind, about not finishing the marathon. I start to control my breath more and look around. No one was going to come to get me, I had to keep going. So I got up and started walking; the crowd well ahead of me now.
Walking quickly turned into limping; pain from my foot and back becoming almost intolerable. I’m nearing a lake when a medic that was standing by the path stepped in front me and stopped me. He said, “I highly recommend that you stop and let us bring you to the finish line because this is the last stop and you still have a ways to go; three more miles.” I seriously considered it; pain clouding my judgement. But I thought about all those 3 mile runs I completed when training and how they were nothing, I could do it with my eyes closed. So I continued on around the lake, over a bridge, and to the back gates of Epcot. A few medics on bicycles were riding along the path making sure that we were ok, forcing me to stop at a water station so that they could douse me with water. I occasionally passed runners who were in worse shape than me, enduring an injury during the race and continuing on.
Upon entering Epcot, I passed the Mile 25 sign. I couldn’t believe I was a little more than a mile out from the finish line. I stopped to take a selfie in front of the sign. I was walking around the world at Epcot, passing tourists with their hands full of sausage with sauerkraut and beers...the one time in my life when the sight of a beer repulsed me. I text my family telling them I was close. I was headed towards the big Epcot ball and right when I was beside it there was the Mile 26 sign. I stopped and had someone take my picture; I look tense in the photograph to say the least. I continued walking and saw families and people waiting and cheering. I spotted my family, my nephew running out to meet me. He said, “Come on Jay Jay!” and starting jogging beside me, I told him I didn’t think I could but I would try. So at a slow jog we headed towards the finish line, my mom waving while video taping me, my boyfriend taking pictures. I gave Daffy Duck a high-five and crossed the elaborate finish line. I approached the stand of medals hanging and a volunteer placed one over my head. I had finally made it; 8.5 hours later. I walked off over to the right where the medic tents were and I sat on the closest bench. I physically couldn’t move anymore.
After a few minutes I knew I had to get up and go meet my family, the runner’s area blocked off to the public. I limped slowly around the gates and found Jack, immediately telling him I need to sit down. We went to my car and I sat in the passenger seat. The rest of my family came to my car and all I could think about was going home. I got out of the car to take pictures and briefly tell them about how it went. Jack drove me home, about an hour away. The entire car ride I felt sick, constantly on the verge of throwing up. We pulled into my driveway and I struggled to even lift my legs to get out of the car. I wobbled into the house, down the hall, straight for the bathroom. I put a stool in the shower and sat there with the hot water blasting on my legs. After a long steaming shower, I got dressed in my marathon tech shirt, placed my medal around my neck, and grabbed a beer. I had done it. I finished a goal that I made for myself that I assumed would be an easy feat. But in all actuality, it was the most difficult.
I obviously called off work for the next day and I was happy I did. I was exponentially more sore than the night before. A few days afterwards I was proud. I wore my medal to school that Tuesday and told everyone how challenging this race was for me and when they asked about my time, my response was, “I finished.” About a week after the marathon I started to feel disappointed. A wave of emotions was occurring inside of me; what I imagine runners might experience upon crossing the finish line, I was experiencing a week after. I was emotionally numb when I crossed the finish line and now it was all catching up to me. I became angry that I had such a terrible time and I wasn’t able to run like I envisioned this race would go. It was no longer a proud feeling of accomplishment and completion but a disgrace and disappointment of failure. I thought, “I have to run this race again because I know I can do better, run better, and finish with a better time.”
“No, I will not go to yoga with you...I’m a runner! But I guess I’ll come try it since I still have a blister on my foot.” my text to Jessica read.
“You are so hipster if you go to yoga,” Jack chimes in.
“I can’t believe I’m actually going to yoga. Ohh these yoga pants are comfortable!” I think to myself.
“Instead of running, why don’t you try yoga?” my doctor suggests.
I reluctantly met Jessica at Kula yoga studio, my cheap mat a towel in hand that I purchased at Target. I walk in, paying for one class, and I proudly announce, “I’m a runner, I’m just here because I can’t run right now and I need something active to do.”
I walk into the dimly lit studio, calm music playing in the background, candles and incense burning. I lay my mat down in the back corner, not wanting anyone to see me for fear of making a mistake. The instructor walks in, “Hello everyone, let’s begin in Child’s Pose.”