The Marine Corps Half Marathon

On 10/3/1998 I ran in the Marine Corps Half-Marathon at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, a 13 mile foot race around a course marked off within the USMC base.

From my home in Burlington, NC the base was a three hour drive so arriving at 7:00 AM for registration and warm-up required that I drag myself out of bed at 3:00 AM and hit the road at 4:00 AM. It was a good thing I did.

Finding Camp Lejeune was not a problem, and the Marines made entry to their base relatively hassle free by issuing a "Special Event" pass at the Main Gate to everyone declaring their intent to run in the race. However, I missed the turn immediately after the Main Gate and unintentionally toured the 1st half of the race course before finally asking for directions to the registration area.

Eventually, I arrived with time to spare, found the registration tables, collected my gratis pullover long sleeve shirt with my registration packet, and paid the modest $10.00 registration fee. At last I could relax, pin on number 422, and warm up for the start of the race.

With "ARMY" written boldly in Black & Gold across the chest of my Gray tee shirt I drew a few looks from curious Marines, but surprisingly few comments. I wore the shirt expecting to have some fun and receive a little good natured razzing. In that, I was disappointed. During the warm up period, no one harassed me for representing the Army (I left active duty in 1977, so I was stretching it a bit) and only a couple of respectful comments were made acknowledging my "colors".

Before this day, I had never competed in a foot race this long. In fact, only three 5K races (about 3 miles) were in my record. Prudently, I positioned myself at the rear of the pack.

If you have never seen the start of a long distance race, imagine a packed throng of adult humans completely covering what looks like a quarter mile of two lane highway. Suddenly, the entire throng starts running in one direction. From the rear of the pack, I faintly heard the starting buzzer. Many, including me, were unsure what the buzzer meant. But we all started running east, so the race must have begun.

Immediately, I started passing other runners; mostly senior citizens and women pushing baby carriages. I mean that. It is not a joke. At least three women started the race pushing those big wheeled strollers specially designed for joggers. One of them pushed twins! As I passed I kidded her about calculating a race handicap. She replied that they should divide her time by three.

The scenery along the first three miles was nice though boring. The roads were tree lined and I couldn’t see more than a few feet into the woods on either side of the road. Some of the young Marines kept things amusing by rushing into the woods, relieving themselves and rushing back into the pack. For those 1st three miles, this was a common form of entertainment. Later, I seldom saw it - but farther from the starting line we were more stretched out and I could see fewer runners.

While running through a barracks area somewhere near the 7th mile marker, two attractive young women Marines made a dash behind a large dumpsite dumpster accompanied by whoops from marines on the second floor of the barracks and interested stares from nearby runners (yes, me too).

My ARMY tee shirt started drawing comments from mile 4 onward. Aid stations, where volunteers hand runners water or Gatorade as they pass by, were positioned every two miles. One of the aid station volunteers at mile 4 saw my shirt and said "Here comes an old soldier. Give him some water." Now I wasn’t THAT old and I wasn't in that bad of shape either. But he meant well and I took no offence. Between miles 5 and 6 two young Marines ran along side me for awhile. One of them asked if I was an ARMY fan. I wasn't expecting this question because my shirt did not clearly indicate a connection to West Point. These Marines recognized the ARMY mule mascot on my shirt tail and I was pleasantly surprised. We talked football and college for a few minutes and then they fell behind and out of sight. I don't know why, I'm sure I kept the same pace.

Soon after leaving my two companions we entered what appeared to be the Army portion of the base and I was greeted by enthusiastic cheers from the twenty or so soldiers lining the route. In that moment, I was grateful to Devine Providence for my choice of uniform for running this race. I was proud to represent these young soldiers. I was equally proud of them.

Beyond the Army barracks the course entered a pleasant residential area with homes occupied by the families of Marine Captains, Lieutenants, and Warrant Officers. Shortly, we entered field grade territory where the Majors and Lieutenant Colonels live. In this neighborhood we had more spectators as career Marine families came out to support the troops, waving and cheering. Here too, I heard several "Way to go ARMY" comments. I smiled and waved back. Somewhere in the field grade neighborhood, the New River sprang into view. The trees were much thinner here and the river was clearly and beautifully visible. The broad expanse of blue framed by the scattered mature shade trees was captivating. It caused me to forget that I was past the 10 mile marker with 3 plus miles remaining. I felt good, relaxed, high on life. I was enjoying God's creation more intensely than ever before.
My arms and legs were warm and working comfortably. My trick knee was functioning painlessly. The runner's high was upon me, a direct manifestation of the love of God. And the view was terrific.

From mile 7 to the end of the course, I passed many Marines. I admit to some undeserved pride in passing a couple hundred 18 to 30 year old Marines. But I was proud of them too. At least four times when I passed a group of young Marines, one of them shouted "Way to go ARMY!" I hoped I would have the same grace if the situation were reversed.

In mile 11, I caught up with a group that included a special couple. Both apparently Marines, the man was running and the woman was riding a bicycle, softly chanting cadence and running songs to encourage her mate. It touched my soul. That is a marriage that will stand a thousand storms. I took strength from their example and picked up my pace, reluctantly leaving this admirable partnership behind.

Past the 12 mile aid station I picked up my pace again and soon caught up with another marriage partnership; two runners of my own age wearing matching stars and stripes shorts and shirts. The man's shirt identified him as a Marine Vietnam veteran. This couple ran side by side, not quite in step, but seemly synchronistically. They too, gave me a "Way to go ARMY" as I passed.

The remainder of the race I labored a bit as I had quickened my pace substantially and I was relieved to enter the chute at the finish. I was pleased with the thoughtfulness of the Marine Corps as demonstrated by the medallion hung around my neck, and the neck of every finisher, after I crossed the finish line. The refreshments laid out for the runners were also well received. It was just a class act from beginning to end.

Most participants left before the results were tabulated, but I hung around to the end and watched a 71 year old man and a 70 year old woman receive trophies. A 61 year old woman took home three. I wanted to see where I placed. I knew my result was not close to trophy times but I wanted to know just how far off I was. In the end, I had finished 238 out of approximately 600 runners. It was about what I expected and I was satisfied.

My long-distance running days are over now. I still run a bit but the artificial hip joint installed in 2003 ended my hopes of running a full marathon.

The Marine Corps Half-Marathon was fun. I was treated with respect, boasted my ego, accomplished a goal, enjoyed the fellowship of other runners, exercised my body, communed with God, and took home a medallion, a long sleeved tee shirt, and many pleasant memories. If you are a runner and you have not run at Camp Lejeune, put it on your calendar. If you are not a runner, you don't know what you're missing.