Page 582 - WhyAsInY

Why (as in yaverbaum)
running time than that which I anticipated for Pittsburgh. Being seated for that amount of time (inclusive of two intermissions) was not exactly a recommended activity for winding down from the longest run of my life to that point, but I survived. I had also really lost weight, perhaps twenty pounds. One evening, Kathy looked at me and somewhat invol- untarily exclaimed, “Where did my husband go?” I believe that at that point I was in the best shape of my life.
One of the best things about the Pittsburgh Marathon is that Danny volunteered to run it with me, severely slowing his pace and both pro- tecting and incentivizing dear old Dad. To honor the occasion, I secured running shorts and shirts for both us. They bore the Amherst logo and were, of course, in purple. (Thus, Kathy would be aided in identifying me on the course or in the emergency room, as the case might be.)
The day did not begin well in Pittsburgh. Someone had neglected to read my book, and temperatures and humidity soared into the eight- ies, far from ideal conditions to run in. In fact, the tryouts for the U.S. Olympic Team were held on the same course that day but started one hour before the marathon start—and only one man qualified for the Olympics. And not by virtue of his time but because he finished first. It was so hot and humid that no other potential Olympian hit the quali- fying time.
To compound the difficulty of the race, somehow Danny and I were late for the gun and we found ourselves running at least a mile just to get to the starting area in time. It didn’t matter to me. My legs were springs, and I was feeling very strong. What’s a mile, anyway?
Well, Pittsburgh turned out to be far from flat. There were numerous bridges going over the rivers, and the city was (to me, anyway) quite hilly in its northern neighborhoods. Because of the weather, the route was lined with garden hoses to supplement the water stations and, scar- ily, scores of ambulances to pick up the fallen entrants, of which there seemed to have been hundreds. After about sixteen miles, I started to show the wear and tear as I fought my way up a bridge. Finally, it seemed as if nothing could make my legs go. I drank and drank water and still
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