Pops, when he was wrapping up a story, would cap it with a famous saying used in a western movie.  I don't quite remember what movie or who coined the phrase, but he would love to say "That's the way it was, going west..." in his hills of northern Connecticut-rumbling voice.  Now, after time has gone and done what's inevitable, I am proud to keep Pop's great sayings going strong by recalling "the way it was" with the Las Vegas Marathon.  

     It was cold that morning.  The sun was still a bit behind the horizon, street lights were still illuminating the city streets but starting to switch off.  The yellow-orange hue of sunrise was reflecting off the fabulous Mandalay Bay Hotel and Casino.  Runners were lining up by the thousands into their assigned corrals.  My corral was number two.  I begin to squeeze quick stretches into the last few minutes of anticipation; quads, ham strings, hips, and arms.  There wasn't a heck of a lot of time.  People were already in line, eyes forward and focused. Five more minutes.  Standing in my spot, waiting, I really had no plan other than running 26.2 miles.  Maybe I would, maybe not.  Maybe I would qualify for the Boston Marathon a second time, maybe not.  Training for this race was like cramming for a college exam- it was all at the last minute.  I just kept my mind open, ready.  Was this lady REALLY Cher singing the National Anthem?  

     Las Vegas Boulevard, or "The Strip", took up the first half of the marathon.  Spectators from everywhere lined the streetside to watch.  One gentleman was cheering very loudly and enthusiastically.  "Go GET 'EM! This is YOUR day!  You can DO IT!"  Others were chanting the well-known cheer of "LET'S GO RUNNERS! WHEWWWW!"  At any hour of the day, the Strip is always thriving with something.

     It was wonderful that my sister and nephew were there at mile 6.  Sarah with her smiles and cheers, and Nathan, wide-eyed and awe-struck from so many runners, came to see me.  Their presence gave me my first jump-start, my first adrenaline shot.  

     On the thirteenth mile, the half-marathoners split from the fulls.  I had to laugh as I thought, "Would it be a smarter move to follow THEM and spare myself an additional 13.1 miles of arduousness? Nah..."  And I just then paid my penance for shutting out the voices of reason, for in the distance waited a massive composition of concrete,cement, steel, and what was certain to be a lot of other things.  We runners came upon the first I-15 overpass.  It was lengthy, motionless,which to the adventurous visionary would resemble an over-grown and water-logged boa constrictor that just swallowed an adult beaver whole. Or, perhaps, something similar to what was just written.  Make of it whatyou will, it was a good and long hill.  It sure was a test for our training.  From the crest of the bridge, we fullers stepped outside our zones of comfort and into zones of harsh compromise.  

        The physical challenge becomes very real in miles 16-26.  The pain of hitting the brick wall just creeps up and before it can be fixed it just feels too late.  I can liken this feeling to how the Tin Man felt in the land of Oz.  All flexibility that I had before this point was flat-out non-existent.  Just gone.  I can hear the creak of my joints with every step taken.  My quads feel like cinder blocks.  It was a real bad time.  Every thought thought of, and every feeling felt, were harshly fresh.  Real as hell.  Too real.  And at that lowest point of tedium, delirium, and internal conflict between what's sane and what is not was when I had the revelation.  I realized, as I raised my vision from the black street below to the sun-lit LasVegas Skyline ahead, that I didn't hurt.  My body was tired, yes, but the pain was only in my mind.  I was just stiff.  My body complained of boredom, the same old thing, and the constant rhythmic stride.  Or maybe it was my brain.  Either way, I ignored the nag, bitch, and fuss.  I broke free, changed everything up completely.  I ran big, full. The last four miles saw 100% of the mental and physical energies invested.  I would finish.  By becoming more aware of myself, every effort of this race was re-defined.  I had a job to do, a purpose, and that was to get me to the end.  Power radiated through me,and it's a wonder lightning didn't taze out my fingertips.  At high speed,I stampeded the remaining 385 yards of the race, and finished at a 3:09:21 time.