It would be interesting to say this story starts back in the year of nineteen hundred and ... when I was a little boy. But it doesn't. It actually started in May of 1993 when I decided to go for a run. I walked back huffing and puffing and then lit a cigarette to celebrate my 1/4 mile journey.
One month later, on June 8th, I had my last cigarette and by July I could run one mile without stopping. In September I ran my first 5k race after quitting smoking and my time of 28:54 was a thing of beauty. I was there. I was a runner. Five kilometer races led to 10ks and then in December 1995 I completed my first half marathon. But, disaster followed. The second half of 1996 and early 1997 were injury-plagued. I did little racing and a lot of nursing of injuries.
I rebounded with a healthy second half of 1997 and in 1998 convinced myself that my first marathon was now in sight. The date was set for October 25th, 1998 and the race was the Marine Corps Marathon in Washington D.C. I trained in June and July of 1998 only to discover that my race had been sold out. Booked solid. I would have to find a replacement. While searching and talking to SCR club members about a possible replacement, the summer heat took its toll on me and I had to back off on my training. Then in late September, I found my marathon. It had been there all along.
In 1983 my father had finished the New Orleans Marathon and ten years later my sister had also successfully completed the same one. New Orleans is my home town. So why not follow in the Winn family tradition and run the home town marathon. "It was destiny!", I said. I now had my race and continued my training. I was motivated again.
I was now racking up 35-45 miles per week in November and December of 1998. The calendar flipped to the new year and race day was now upon me - January 30th, 1999. I arrived at the race ninety minutes early. I just wanted to relax, get some fluids, snap a few photos and take it all in. This was my first marathon. Soon my relatives started arriving. The sky was overcast, near 70 degrees and muggy with about 90% humidity. Sounds bad but the runners of this race were lucky. The forecast called for 100% chance of thunder storms but a last minute high pressure system in the Gulf of Mexico pushed it all away from New Orleans. The city and the runners appeared spared.
Minutes later I was lining up for the start and felt extremely relaxed. Almost as though I weren't the one running today. The starter's pistol went off to start the wheelchair event and I quickly focused my thoughts on the race. I felt rested and ready to run. A second gun sounded, the front runners started their fast pace and the race was on. It was exciting.
The field of over 1,000 runners nearly doubled last year's draw and we were running arm to arm for the first mile through the narrow streets of City Park. I kept repeating my first mile mantra "Go slow, go slow". My biggest fear was to go out too fast and have to walk the last few miles of this event.
The first five miles of the course wound through the park which gave the spectators three opportunities to cheer for their friends and relatives. I was lucky. A group of about 10 of my relatives yelled so loudly as I passed that other runners commented to me about my cheering section. My pace picked up and I was doing 9:30 miles at this point. My pace seemed to pick up every time I saw my relatives.
Miles five through eight took the runners out of the park, around a bayou and into a surrounding neighborhood. I was into a groove at this point clicking off 9:15 miles. As we neared mile nine we were now on Esplanade Avenue and headed for the infamous French Quarter. I then saw one group of my relatives and a few blocks later, the other group. They were cheering wildly and we exchanged high-fives. Just knowing that they were out there and seeing them every five miles or so kept me going. I passed the 10 mile marker at 95:11 and was feeling great.
The water stops appeared every two miles and contained water, sports drink, bananas, energy bars, energy gels, bagels, fruit and vaseline. All of the volunteers at each stop were dressed to a theme; including an Egyptian theme, a Rock 'N' Roll theme, and the last one (with only two miles to go) was 'Heaven Is Just Ahead' and they were all dressed as angels. Each stop was different and brought a smile to our faces, not to mention that the water was always a welcome sight.
Miles 11 and 12 took us through the French Quarter and across the world famous Canal Street. It was just after 9:30am and the downtown streets were already crowded with tourists. I approached the halfway mark and my time was 204:40. The sun peeked out a little at this time and I only hoped that it would move back behind the clouds. Until now we hadn't seen the sun at all. The temperature was now in the low 70s and it was quite muggy. We did not need the sun's help today. Soon the sun complied and went back behind the clouds.
I still thought I had a chance to break a 4:00 time if I could pick up the pace a little but as we headed uptown to Audubon Park I started feeling a blister forming under the big toe on my right foot. By mile 15 the blister was worse and started to hurt. At this point I stopped for 30 seconds or so on the side of the road to adjust my sock. In a matter of just 2 miles I had gone from thinking sub-4 hours to being unsure if I would even finish the race.
Mile 15 came and I again saw my relatives on nearly consecutive street corners. They were definitely a sight for sore feet and I tried to smile as I went by. My pace quickened again from seeing them but only until they were out of sight. I am sure that my face reflected my pain, I was hurting.
Miles 16 and 17 took me around the asphalt loop inside of Audubon Park. This 1.8 mile loop is popular for roller bladers, runners, walkers and cyclists. Today was no exception as the marathoners were intermingled with people out for their Saturday morning exercise under a canopy of 400 year old, majestic oak trees. It is really a fantastic sight to see. Soon I had completed the loop, was out of Audubon Park and was headed back on Pyrtania toward the French Quarter. As I neared mile 19 I heard another runner say, "Your family is quite the cheering section, They are really keeping me going." I readily agreed and smiled. I started to pull away when the voice said, "Ken, it is me, Alan Holt." I didn't recognize a childhood friend that I hadn't seen in several years. He introduced me to his running partners and I decided that this was a good place to hang for a while.
A few moments later we passed my relatives again at the 19th mile marker. The four of us talked and urged each other on. We were all hurting from one thing or another but just kept counting the miles down and pulling each other forward. One of Alan's friends bowed out at mile 21 and the three of us continued. I thought that it was kind of amazing that I had come this far with a blister on the bottom of my right big toe that felt like a needle was stabbing me with every step. In all of my training which included 3 runs of 20 miles or more I had never gotten a blister. Now, at mile 23, I had been running with one for the last seven miles. I have to admit that several times I thought of stopping. I thought to myself, "How long can I keep running with this pain?". Then I thought of all the training I had done for this big day. I did not want my first marathon to end like this. I pushed on.
As we neared mile 23 I felt like I was ready for the final kick. A female runner, whom I found out was named Stacey, was passing the three of us about this time and had a good pace going. I decided to try to hang with her for the last few miles. I thanked my buddies and they told me to "go for it" if I felt like I have some push left in me. Stacey and I headed toward the finish line and started clocking splits in the low 9:00s. We were pulling each other on with every step. At this point I was really feeling the pain of my blister and the fatigue of my legs but knew that I was just a couple of miles away from my first marathon finish.
There was more than one time during the last two miles that I had to hold back the feeling of being overcome by the whole thing. I could not believe that I was finally here and nearing the finish line. I thought back to my early runs in 1993 when a single mile seemed so far to go, and to my injuries of 1996 when I thought that I would never get to this starting line, and to all of the 5:30am runs and 20 mile training runs.
Stacey and I were running step for step as we crossed the 25 mile marker. Slowly the stadium came into sight and soon we crossed the 26 mile marker. As we neared the stadium, a man with a cell phone called our race numbers to race officials inside of the stadium. Within seconds we were running through the tunnel, then out into the stadium bowl and onto the regulation track which was the site of the 1992 Olympic Trials. Just then our names were called out over the PA system. "Kenneth Winn of Rockledge, Florida", shouted the gentleman over the PA system. The crowd seemed to cheer for every runner that entered the stadium. I only had to make it half the way around the track
I started seeing my family, one-by-one, in the infield as I rounded the last curve and headed down the straight-away. The large chute was just ahead and I could see the seconds click on the overhead clock. I crossed the finish line and a large medallion attached to a strand of Mardi Gras beads was placed around my neck. I did it! I was elated, exhausted and sore all over.
My family members began coming up to greet me. This was a great moment. I had run the second half in 2:07:50 for a 4:12:30 total time. Considering all that happened and the muggy conditions, I was very proud. I could not have scripted the event any better than it turned out. How lucky can one person be to come home to run their first ever marathon, to have two car loads of relatives leap-frogging the course in support, to run a consistent race and to finish with a time that was better that expected. This is one race that will I will always remember.
So now I am sitting here a week or so later. My legs are tired. No, they are basically dead to the world. I did a four mile run this morning and felt slower than molasses. Yet I have just filled out my application to my second marathon. I am hooked. So come and join me at the 1999 Marine Corps Marathon in Washington D.C. this October. We'll pull each other through, I guarantee it!