NH Marathon (#26): The fierce battle for the non-last place

I made my move at mile 22.

I had followed my sworn enemy for about ten kilometers. The half mile limit was 2:50 and I hiked at 2:43 so I had plenty of room to spare, although by this point I had given up on my 5:30 goal.

My enemy was wearing a red shirt. I could see them a quarter or half a mile ahead of me for several hours. I got a little closer, then they moved away.

At mile 14.5, a timing device was put in place, presumably to make sure the marathon runners were on the second loop. I noticed the guy watching him (whom I later learned was called Nate) was picking up the cones after I passed.

I asked, "Am I in last place?"

"Yes"

"It's a new experience for me. I guess I have a goal besides finishing."

"What is this?"

"I'm not coming last."

I knew I had several hours to catch the person in the red shirt. There was no urgency. I took it easy and did 14-22 miles. My new friend Nate the Great was at every water stop, packing things into his U-Haul after I passed. Since Red Shirt wasn't getting far away, I stopped, refilled my water bottle, and chatted with Nate.

At mile 22, I picked up the pace. The last three miles of the course were on the Rail Trail. The nice folks in New Hampshire carefully paint all the rocks and tree roots on the trail white, so it was a particularly nice place to pass Red Shirt. As I passed, Red Shirt growled and I said, "You get it," which seemed to be the mantra for this race.

Nate was waiting for me at mile 23, making sure I was still on the trail.

He said, "Looks like you did."

"Yeah. The second to last place is more fun than the last, but I still have a few more miles to go."

"You got it."

Yeah. Of course I did. New Hampshire is the #26 state in my quest to run a marathon in every state. I haven't done much in the past few years, and I'm getting slower as I get older. But I know how to do 26.2 miles at any pace (I haven't had a single DNF in all of my efforts.)

The little m arathons are my favorites. Other than staring at Red Shirt's back for a long time, I was alone for most of the marathon, which is one of my favorite ways to exist on your planet.