My Favorite Wisconsin Marathon Moments

1. The anticipation in the car on the drive to the start line in the dark. It's the moment anything is possible.
   
2. The Mayfly orgy on the picnic table before the race started. (Thankfully, the breeze picked up and the swarming Mayflies were history by the time the race officially started.)
   
   
   
3. The conversation overheard at the start line about Mittens. Even in May in Wisconsin you have to think about mittens? No. The Mitten Challenge is a two races in two states in two days event shared by the Wisconsin Marathon and the Kalamazoo MI Marathon. You could run the half (called Half & Half Challenge) or the full (the Mittens Challenge) and get a cool medal for doing it. More power to 'em, but I'm pretty sure that's not me.
   
4. The thinking how nice it would be to live on the race course itself. At one point, a guy and girl behind me were discussing pulling over at his house so he could swap out his running tights for shorts and so she could use the bathroom.
   
5. The guy with the green trombone that first appeared between Miles 1 and 2, then again between Miles 3 and 4 ... and finally on Mile 10-ish. He was playing the "Go Big Red" jingle from Badger games in the beginning and some slow, sad, New Orleans-sounding thing at the end. I often wonder what possesses people to participate in an event like that.
   
6. Which brings me to my two favorite spectators. The first I'll call FrankenShe. She was a very tall (as in sideshow tall) woman and had gray hair, glasses, and that "giantess" look about her. She must have been walking on the beach because she was sporting two walking poles. I passed by her just after Mile 5. She was cheering from the sidelines ... her hands raised up in the air, fists pumping. "You are all amazing! I am so proud of each and every one of you! You did the work! You trained so hard! You are doing it! Good job! You look strong!" She was yelling at the top of her voice, and she kept on yelling as everyone passed.
   
7. The second, Coach Clapper. He was mid to late 50s, I'd guess. Fit, tidy, shorts and a windbreaker.  His voice was HUGE and he was stationed on the downtown stretch, around Mile 3. I heard him before I saw him, pacing the "sidelines" like a coach at the Final Four, clapping and shouting. "Looking good. Looking strong. Good job! That's it!" He was still standing in that spot ... which become Mile 11 on the out-and-back route ... when I had just wrapped up a miserably slow Mile 10. The woman in front of me was walking. I was, too. "NO ONE WALKS IN FRONT OF ME!" he said. "NO ONE! You've got this. You can do this! You've got something left in the tank, I can see it!" And she started running. So did I. Miserable or not, I wanted to please him because he genuinely seemed to care. He showed up again at the 26-mile mark ... or .2 from the finish line for me. There he was, clapping and cheering, like the best high school coach you ever had. "Only .2 to go, kick it in! You got this! Finish strong! Good job! Good job!" By now we were old friends, or so it seemed, and I kind of wanted to hug him because I needed to hear those words at that moment. I couldn't tell if he had someone in the race, if he was part of the volunteer race crew or just a guy who liked cheering people on.
   
8. The signs made by spectators, designed to inspire runners. Or make them giggle:
   "Run faster ... I just farted!"
   "Pain is temporary. Internet results are forever."
   
9. The Polkaholics. Yes, that's right a rock/polka band. They were pretty amazing. I imagine it's weird to play a gig at 7 a.m. on a Saturday. They were wearing purple sequined vests ... I mean, what else would you expect?
   
10. The guy who said, "Lisa Sympson! Looking good!" I was just approaching Mile 6 and he had already hit the turn around, so he was a good 3 or 4 miles ahead of me. I turned to look to see who it was, responded with a "HEY!" and a smile. But I have no earthly idea who it was. I searched the race results for someone from Janesville or Beloit or Fort Atkinson and found no one I knew. It's a mystery.
    
11. The soft-spoken runner in the yellow and white striped running skirt who came up behind me at Mile 10 and barely whispered, "You're doing great. Keep going." She caught me off guard. "I'm pissed at myself," I blurted out before I could edit ... as if she wanted to hear my internal dialogue. "We're almost there," she said. "Only a 5K to go. You can do it." And off she went. It was nice of her. And it reminded me that that's the person on the course I want to be.
    
12. The sun coming up over the lake and this patient, kind, brave, strong, handsome man there with me to watch it. (His favorite part of the day was not this one. It was watching a guy take off his shoe at the finish line to reveal a completely bloody soaked sock. Which, honestly, makes me love him even more.