The Bridge, the Bonk, and the Beans
How I tanked the Oakland Marathon
“Are you okay? Do you need help?”
The Oakland police officer, glancing away from traffic at her assigned intersection, appraised me with a concerned look.
“I’m okay,” I managed to croak out, trying my best to sound stronger than I felt.
The officer pushed a button on her walkie-talkie and shouted into her shoulder: “The woman says she’s fine…”
Good Lord, did I look so bad that the OPD had issued an all-points-bulletin? Well, if I did, it was an accurate reflection of how I felt at Mile 25 of the Oakland Marathon. As I plodded along, listing to my starboard side like a ship taking on water, the officer’s concerns were completely valid. I may have been a mere mile from the finish, but crossing that line was anything but guaranteed.
I was competing in Oakland because of New York. The New York City Marathon, to be precise. I’d been content with shorter races, from 1500 meters to half marathons, for quite some time. But when I needed a new challenge and got the bug to do one more big marathon, New York became my target. Since it had been 13 long years since my last full marathon, I wanted a trial run (in the most literal sense) to assess what worked and what didn’t before toeing the start line on Staten…
