With a light mist falling down on me, I crossed the start line of the 17th annual Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon and glanced over to my left on Harvey Avenue.
It was 6:30 a.m. Sunday morning as me and the other runners in Corral A began our 13.1 or 26.2 mile journey through the streets of Oklahoma City.
I was running the half marathon. Others were running the full. Some were running the 5K. But as my eyes drifted toward the message on the 9:03 West Gate of the Oklahoma City National Memorial, I was realized we were all running the same race.
My eyes fixated on the top line, "We come here to remember ..."
Over 25,000 of us toed the start line of Run To Remember with a similar purpose — to honor the 168 people killed in the tragic Oklahoma City bombing in April of 1995.
As I sprinted on by the West Gate, a cool breeze washed over me. It very well could've been the chilly headwind out of the south. It also could've been the rush of emotion that makes your spine tingle when something hits home and sinks into your soul.
I tend to believe it was the latter.
Since I'm not from Oklahoma originally, I didn't quite understand the magnitude of this event and the amount of emotion that comes with it.
That was, until Sunday, when I watched so many runners pour out their heart and soul as well as their legs and feet to honor loved ones.
After I finished, I grabbed my gear check bag and put on my sweats before checking out the memorial. Being my first time there, I soaked it all in.
I went to stand next to the Survivor Tree, where I stood in awe at its beauty and in reverence to the tree for withstanding the full front of the attack.
I walked along the Reflecting Pool, nestled between the East and West Gates. Despite the fierce wind of Sunday morning, the Reflecting Pool felt still.
It was so calm and peaceful in that moment, I couldn't help but savor the beauty of the memorial while remembering the tragedy.
In the middle of the Field of Empty Chairs, where each chair marks a life that was taken, I found the chair of Dr. Margaret "Peggy" Clark.
Her chair was showered with a colorful bouquet of flowers, a few race medals and a multitude of participants' race bibs attached to one another in a ribbon shape draped over the chair. Other chairs were also covered with flowers, notes and medals as well.
Many runners were running for Clark and other victims before expressing flowers, race bibs and even their own medals as tokens of rememberance. I was blown away.
Standing there in the Field of Empty Chairs, my heart ached. These were innocent lives that were taken.
Later in the day, I checked out a gallery of race photos on The Oklahoman. One photo stood out to me. One woman stood over one of the 168 empty chairs, honoring those killed.
As she prayed there in the dimly lit field before the race, you could tell this race meant the world to her. She was running the half marathon with 22 pounds in her backpack, one for each year since her mom passed away in the bombing.
Running can't bring back those precious lives lost in the tragedy, but it can bring the community together as it shoulders the burdens of the past and looks to move on toward a brighter future.
After all, the end of the message at the West Gate reads, "May this memorial offer comfort, strength, peace, hope and serenity."
Everything about the OKC National Memorial tied in with the race captivated me.
To date, I've run eight half marathons and seven full marathons in my life. It's obvious that among those 15 I have a list of favorites.
It's a tough pecking order when I list my favorite races, but after experiencing the Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon for the first time, I'm going to have to re-evaluate my list.
When I do so, Oklahoma City is going to be placed near the top.
In addition to the memorial and acts of remembrance, the race itself intrigued me.
Most races become a blur when you're battling the human willpower along a 13.1 or 26.2 mile journey, but certain memories of a race stay with you. For me, it was the countless sights of landmarks and fans along the course that made the race so special.
I'll remember running past the memorial marking the race's start. I'll remember running past the Devon Tower as well as Chesapeake Energy Arena and the Thunder cheerleaders in the first mile.
I'll remember running through the beautiful Bricktown area and the State Capitol as the sky began to climb over the horizon and grow brighter in the early morning hours.
Of course I'll remember the craziness of Gorilla Hill around mile six in the Crown Heights area. I was thinking to myself, "Why are all these yellow balloons here?"
Then I realized I was climbing a long, steep hill filled with hundreds of fans dressed in yellow banana suits. Like many others, I fought the torture of the hill with the adrenaline rush as I got 15 to 20 high fives from banana costumes.
I'll remember the joy of turning onto Broadway Avenue and seeing the finish line.
But more than anything, I'll remember the reason why we all were running — for those victims who couldn't be running with us.
I'm not going to lie. I was unbelievably nervous heading into Sunday's race. It was my first race coming off an injury. I hadn't got my full training cycle in as usual.
On Saturday, I was on assignment covering the Cameron men's tennis team as the Aggies won their fifth straight regional championship. Because of a rain delay, the tennis match that was supposed to start at 11 a.m. was shoved back to 3 p.m. It was only fitting the tennis match would go until the final point and not finishing until after 8 p.m.
I carbo-loaded with a quick meal of pasta at 10 p.m. I finished stretching and finalizing race preparations before hitting the hay for a quick four hours of sleep.
Everything leading up to the race is a red flag for a runner, so I was fretting. Yet somehow, it all worked out.
Miraculously, I woke up at 3:30 a.m. Sunday somewhat refreshed and excited for the race.
After arriving on time, I decided to take a gamble and take a leak in the bushes of the parking lot where I parked.
If you've run a major city marathon before, you know a pre-race pit stop to the restroom is essential. You also know that everybody needs to go to the bathroom right before the start. Besides, I had a warmup to attend to.
An Oklahoma City man in his 50s named Steven parked moments after I did and saw what I was up to.
"That's a genius idea," he told me as I began exiting the parking lot at the same time. "Better to get it out of the way now than wait in line."
I couldn't help but laugh as I told him, "My thoughts exactly." We ended up walking to the start area together as we talked about running.
When taking finisher photos by SportPhoto after the race, I met Stephen Taylor, an Oklahoma City native who also ran the half marathon.
We joked about panicking during the middle of the race when we thought we had missed the half marathon turnaround point, heading back south towards downtown. Neither of us wanted to go 26.2 miles that day. We also talked about how special this race is given its true purpose.
That's what I love about races like Oklahoma City. You can meet new, friendly people who you can relate to right off the bat. The best part was we were all running to remember.
I only clocked 1:41 flat on Sunday, which is 16 minutes off my half marathon PR (personal record). But considering I had only been training for a month and it was my first race in 10 months after a nagging Achilles injury, I was thrilled.
Oklahoma City restored my confidence as I continue to train for my next full marathon in hopes of qualifying for Boston, which my PR of 3:12 sits seven minutes off of.
This race taught me a lot about myself and my running journey. More importantly, it taught me a lot about Oklahoma, its history and the high-character people who make up this great state.
It was a privilege to join in a Run To Remember.
