Kiawah Island Marathon 2009
By Brian Sammons
Hello UCRR,
With a wink and a nod to the Christmas season I decided to send a different kind of race report. Attached is a poem entitled “Twas the Kiawah Marathon Story”. It’s a bit pretentious and over the top, but I figured WTF, besides if I had written a narrative it would have been 3 pages long! I also rounded some numbers and took some other liberties, but deal with it. :>)
As a side, we all had a great time in Kiawah even know all of us didn’t run their best “time”, those who didn’t have a great day lived up to the UCRR tradition of supporting the others and drowning their sorrows in alcohol :>)
Lastly, I was remiss not to mention Hazel in the poem as a Boston Qualifier, she ran a 3:57 PR and will be joining us in Boston 2011!
Thanks everyone for a great year!
TWAS THE KIAWAH ISLAND MARATHON
AS SEEN THRU THE B-DOZER
Twas the night before Kiawah and in the Palmetto State,
Runners were gathering, at an alarming rate,
The University City Roadrunners were represented en masse,
In hopes of Boston Qualifiers, they better haul ass.
The Roadrunners they nestled, all snug in their beds,
Muscles full of glycogen, and dreams in their heads,
Training had been tough, and sometimes gave them the blues,
But they knew as they lie there, they had paid their just dues.
In the blink of an eye, like a flash of a light,
I was at the starting line, with the E-train to my right,
The weather was perfect, mid 40’s with a slight breeze,
We cruised thru 8 miles, the seven-forty pace felt at ease.
Ouch! Suddenly I felt pain, like when listening to Twisted Sister,
I knew in a moment, it must be a blister,
As the E-train ran off, and the clock continued its ticks,
I hopped to the side, and made a hasty fix.
Swift and determined, I jumped back in the race,
Time to get down to business, and quicken the pace,
Seven thirty’s then seven twenties, the miles ticked away,
Eleven then twelve, there’s thirteen I’m halfway!
One forty was my time, I was right on goal pace,
But inspiration was needed, to help with my chase,
More rapid than eagles Roadrunners they came,
They were headed towards the finish, and I called them by name.
Go Mark! Go Eric! They blazed towards the line,
Boston Qualifiers both, two-fifty-five and three-o-nine!
My thoughts then turned inward, with 10k to go,
Was there fuel in the tank, or was she ready to blow.
My legs they churned faster, with each passing mile,
I want to qualify for Boston, and do it in style,
Two miles to go, I had never felt more alive,
I rumbled to a six-fifty-nine, and blazed six-fifty-five.
Arms raised down the stretch, I made quite a scene,
I finished with a big negative split, my time three-fifteen!
Feeling ecstatic, my thoughts turned towards others,
Would they qualify for Boston, my UCRR sisters and brothers?
The Ham came thru next, in nearly three-twenty-seven,
Earning a date with the Wellesley girls, in two-thousand-eleven!
As the clock hit three-fifty, I started to think,
Where were our pretty ladies, wearing their pink.
Sprinting around the corner, like Jack towards cold beer,
Came Holly then Diane, with Denise yelling in their ear,
We urged them to run faster, they were giving us a scare,
But thru the finish line they made it, with five seconds to spare!
Saturday night we celebrated, with brews and some chow,
Looking back at the day, we made ourselves a vow,
When we show up in Hopkinton, to take our Boston pass,
The Roadrunners will rumble, and on Heartbreak Hill we’ll kick ass!
