My second marathon (Frankfurt), post-race in Milan and pumpkin bread recipe

A few weeks ago I posted some pictures of my time in Europe leading up to the Frankfurt Marathon in 2002. I did actually do some training in the last month - but, it was mostly on a stationary bike because I messed up my knee falling off a motor scooter in Italy. I had put in quite a bit of training that summer - and it was the same year as my first marathon in LA. So, I had some "hay in the barn." However, I felt some fear on the starting line. I worried about finishing more than getting a PR.

But, there were about 6-8 of my fellow exchange students who had taken the 45 minute train ride from Mannheim to watch (more support than I was used to at home) - so, the pressure was on to not completely embarrass myself. The weather was on my side - it was in the 50's and about mid-way through the race started to gently rain. The course was pancake flat. And as the miles started to flow by, my knee didn't hurt, I started passing people and gained confidence. I did look at my watch - but, I was much more focused on how my body felt, my breathing, and going after runners in front of me. The result? A better than six minute PR which still stands today.

The next day we got on a plane for Milan. Most of my friends were Norwegian - and their Rosenberg team was playing Inter-Milano in a Champions League game. They all had a good laugh as I had to walk downstairs backwards - but, it was worth it to see one of the great stadiums in European football. I knew that European soccer fans were rabid - but, I didn't quite understand until I arrived in the visitors section at San Siro.


All the visitors were forced to sit behind one of the goals (pic above with my friend Kjetil - pronounced like it's spelled). On either side of us were 20 foot high fences - so that the Inter fans couldn't get at us should Rosenberg actually have the balls to attempt to win the game.

After Inter's first goal (luckily for us they scored a lot that day) I saw what looked like small fires breaking out in the stadium. Apparently the fans wave road flares in celebration. Also, as the game went on there was a growing presence of police dressed in riot gear in our section. I was ready to get out of there when the game ended. But, they forced us to stay in our seats for 30 minutes until the entire stadium was empty. They walked us back to the buses and we got a police escort back to our hotel. Yankees/Sox ain't nothin'.

As a reward for all those who read through my ramblings below is my family recipe for pumpkin bread, which was a success at Arjun, Melissa, and Brennan's Thanksgiving on Saturday.

3 cups white granulated sugar

4 eggs

2/3 c. water

3 1/3 c. flour

1 c. cooking oil

2 c. pumpkin

1 tsp. cinnamon

1 1/2 tsp. salt

1 tsp. nutmeg

2 tsp. baking soda

1 tsp. vanilla

Mix as add ingredients. You'll need a fairly large mixing bowl.

Grease baking pans heavily. Makes enough for two loaves. Fill each pan about half way. Bake at 350 degrees for 45-60 minutes until cooked through the center (use toothpicks to test for doneness).

Enjoy!

My first marathon

I was two weeks short of my 25th birthday on a bright March day in Los Angeles when I ran my first marathon. I was long in confidence and short in experience. I thought that running 25 laps in college on the track meant that I was tough enough for anything. I was wrong.

The first hitch wasn't really my fault. Somebody called in a bomb threat - so, I stood around with 20,000+ people as the sun steadily warmed the air for 45 minutes. I probably should have taken that as a sign that someone was telling me to reconsider my plans for the race - that maybe I should take it easy, given that I hadn't really run over 16 miles during training.

Once the gun went off I felt the exhilaration of running with thousands of people. I was only a few years out of college - and I hadn't really run a race with this many people. There is a release of energy that occurs at the start of a race this large - unfortunately I would need that energy later.

In the first few miles I just floated along - we started to enter South Central LA and I can remember slapping hands with kids - thinking how easy it was. Then I saw the lead female pack - I moved up to them pretty easily and then stayed in the pack for a little while. It was fun to think I might be on TV. Then for some reason I decided they were going too slowly - so, I opened up a gap on them. This was at about 10 miles and I still felt great.

Things changed soon - at around 14 miles I remember coming up over a rise from a bridge. I spit to my left only to realize that I had spit on the lead woman - who was overtaking me. I mumbled an apology - but, all I was thinking about is "I'm starting to hurt and I still have 12 miles to go - crap."

The wheels really started coming off around mile 16. I was completely overheated. The temp was around 70 degrees and the California sun was relentless. I don't remember what my water stop strategy was - but, I think it was probably the potentially life threatening "drink when you're thirsty."

I remember finally seeing a water stop like an oasis in the desert around mile 17. I was so thirsty that I stopped completely - I drank water and poured it all over myself for several minutes. I heard sirens in the distance - I was sure they were coming for me.

When I started up again I realized that stopping probably wasn't the best idea. Most of the muscles that I need for forward locomotion were completely cramped up. It was like learning to run all over again. My brain knew what my legs should do - but, they had other ideas.

There was one thought that kept spooling around in my head - "I really want to quit - but, I don't know how else to get to the finish line."

A few other memories stand out in my head - trying and failing to catch a guy who looked like he was pushing 200lbs; saluting an American flag (which was rather uncharacteristic of me); and generally cursing my own existence. It's amazing how quickly one can go from slapping hands with strangers - to feeling like a cripple. That's what the marathon does to you.

I finally did finish. Thank goodness that my parents were there - my mom had agreed to drive me back to San Diego. I'm glad she did - because I was in the back seat curled up in the fetal position for the 2 hours back to SD.

So, again - why am I doing this?