The Myrtle Beach Marathon

Some of my friends have asked when would I post the Myrtle Beach Marathon story. I guess it’s time. That story has been around the world a couple of times, so many of you have heard it, but for the few who haven’t —

Around late summer or early fall of the year 2000, Leigh started talking about the Myrtle Beach Marathon at our family dinners. She was still coaching cross-country and track at that time and she and some of her runners had participated in it the year before. She wanted our family to compete in the next one coming up the following February. Leigh explained that it was a true marathon (26.2 miles), but you could compete either as an individual, running the entire race, or as a team of five, with four runners going five miles and the last runner doing the last six point two. All of our family were, or had been, runners. Leigh’s idea was for us to form two teams, a male team and a female team, and compete against each other. None of us males liked this idea, because we knew the women would kick our butts.

On the men’s side we had Leigh’s husband, Chris, who was a very fast sprinter but had never run distance. Then there was Julie’s husband, Steve, who was a pretty good baseball player in his day, but had never run more than 200 meters in his life. Holley’s husband, David, was an excellent golfer (a one-time club pro), but who couldn’t run the little driveway circle in front of our house. Our son, Graig, was the only really competitive runner we had, but it was very unlikely that he would be available to run. Leigh’s son, Jacob, was an excellent young athlete, but he had never run any kind of race in his life. And me – I had been a pretty competitive road racer when I was in the Army, but since retiring in 1993, I had totally given up running. On the other hand, all the women in our family at that time were still very active runners.

All of our whining was to no avail as the women knew they had a sure victory over us and they intended to rub it in. We, the men in the family, started looking for any opportunity or excuse to sabotage this competition, and miraculously, things began happening in our favor. First, about a month or two after this fiasco was laid on, Julie got pregnant. We all congratulated Steve for eliminating her. Then a couple of months later, Holley got pregnant. David had done his job. Then, Louise decided to paint our computer room. I didn’t think it needed painting, so I insisted that she do it herself. Leigh, knowing what a poor painter I am, backed me up on this. So, while standing on a stool to paint the upper trim, Louise fell and blew out her knee. Everyone looked at me accusingly, but Louise explained that I was not even in the room at the time. We men were ecstatic – our competition was eliminated; therefore, we would not have to run.

But the ecstasy didn’t last for long, at least for some of us. Leigh came up with another plan. We would compete as one combined team. It was determined (and I’m not sure who determined this) that our most competitive team would be Leigh, of course, Chris, Steve, Holley (even though two months pregnant), and me. After more whining from the men, we began to formulate our strategy and determine the order in which we would run. It was a no-brainer that Leigh should run our anchor leg, the final 6.2 miles. Chris, however, insisted on running last – he wanted the satisfaction of finishing the race. So, Leigh agreed to run the next-to-last five miles and her plan was that she would continue the final leg with Chris also, just in case he couldn’t make it. She would, thus, be running 11.2 miles. I volunteered (actually insisted) on starting the race. I had more experience running road races than the others and knew how difficult the start can be with thousands of runners. They like for the slower runners to get to the rear, and with the accordion effect, it may take five minutes or more for some runners to get to the start line. I intended to make sure that didn’t happen to our team. Leigh thought that was stupid and told me so. She said, “Dad, you do know, don’t you, that we are not going to be competitive in this race. We’re just doing it as a family venture.” That didn’t dissuade me – it’s the principle of the thing. No one is going to tell me where I have to line up for a race. It was determined that I would pass the baton to Steve, and he would be followed by Holley, then Leigh, and finally Chris (with Leigh).

The race was held on February 17 and started early in the morning, I believe around 6 AM. Of course, in February the days are short, so it was pitch dark when they dropped me off at the assembly area, the large parking lot near the ball park where the Pelicans play. I was very deaf and at that time had not started wearing hearing aids. So, I couldn’t see anything nor hear anything. I remember that it was wall to wall people and music was blaring from two huge speakers. I spotted a walking bridge set up with a large banner hanging from it indicating that it was the starting line. I also noticed little signs along the either side of the lot saying “If you’re a 7-minute miler, stay behind this sign” and “If you’re an 8-minute miler, stay behind this line,” and so on. As I expected, they were trying to ensure that the faster runners could get the preferred starting positions. I ignored those signs. As my eyes began to adjust to the darkness, I noted that the first 100 meters or more after the start were across an open field with a line of trees along the left side. As the start time drew near, I edged myself up to the very front line, but on the far left edge next to the tree line. I figured that by being on the far outside, faster runners would have plenty of room to go around me and I would hinder no one. The starter mounted the temporary bridge and began making his announcements and describing the rules and the route. I assume that is what he was saying, because I couldn’t hear a word of it. I saw that he had a pistol, so I knew that all I had to do was watch for him to raise the gun and fire it, and I would take off. The other runners were so packed in along the front that I couldn’t see anything except the runner on my right.

Finally, I see the starter raise his arm with the pistol pointing skyward. “Bam,” the gun goes off. I bolt out like a deer. I know that I have to run at near top speed for the first 50 – 100 meters until the leaders get around me and start to thin out. Then I can settle into my distance pace, which at that time would be about an 8 or 9-minute mile pace. I’m feeling like I must have really gotten off to a good start, because at about 30 meters no one has passed me. I can hear them behind me, panting and grunting. I’m really flying as I concentrate on my front so as not to run into a tree. I know I’m going to have to slow down soon, because at 50 meters I’m starting to feel it in my chest. Then, at about 75 meters, I’m still leading, but I can feel someone coming up on my right shoulder. I’m telling myself, “there’s no way I’m going this fast.” Finally, as someone is about to pass me, I glance to my right to see where everyone is.

“Holy shit!!” I see nothing but wheelchairs. I realize that I have started the race with the wheelchair start. The guy nearest me is glaring at me while furiously pumping his arms. So now I’m looking for a way to save face and get back to the start line. Fortunately, I have the line of trees to my left. I slow to a jog and peel off into the trees and begin casually trotting back to my start position as if I was just striding to loosen up. I don’t dare look anyone in the eye. Having wasted all that energy, I really struggled with my five miles, but I didn’t stop until I passed the baton to Steve. The rest of our race, other than Steve almost collapsing 200 meters from his end point, went uneventfully. Leigh ran her 11.2 miles and finished strong with Chris. Of course, as Leigh said, we were not competitive. As we were reunited at the finish area, I told the family of my false start with the wheelchairs. No one believed me – they all thought I was making it up to be funny.

Later that evening, after I had retired to my hotel bed, Leigh and several of her running friends and students, some from universities in the Carolinas, were sitting around the hotel swimming pool talking about the race and their experiences. One young man told of his unusual experience. “Well,” he said, “I was the lead runner on my team, and you won’t believe what happened at the start of the race. The starter fired the gun for the wheelchair start, and some old man took off running with the wheelchairs!”

“Oh my God.” cried Leigh. “That was my dad!!”

Note: The Myrtle Beach Marathon is still a big event, billed as the flattest and fastest marathon in the US. They have eliminated the team competition though. They now have a marathon (individually run), a half-marathon, a 5-K, and a Family Fun Run.