For my American running friends

As I have 876.4 things I need to be doing, I thought I'd take some time and write a comparison of marathons in the U.S. and Japan.:)

It will be six years this winter since I ran my first 5k after caving into peer pressure from my Ironman racing friends.  I'd run track in high school so I could prance around in skimpy clothes and get a tan while flirting with boys... but other than that, I'd not done any serious running.

Chicago Marathon, 10/09

July, 2009

I remember how hard it was to start running... 20 minutes seemed like an eternity.  But after that first race, it seemed illogical to stop there.  The 5k is like a gateway drug to longer and more grandiose sounding races.  I ran my first half marathon four months later, and was well on my way to training for my first marathon when I broke my foot on a timing chip running up a hill in a half marathon that summer.  But, I was able to run that first marathon in Chicago just a week after getting out of my walking cast (shhhh, don't tell my doctor) and decided to train for Boston
qualifying races.

St. Louis Marathon, 2010

I've run 5 marathons in America--two in St. Louis, Chicago, Phoenix and Memphis.  My all-time favorite was Chicago, followed in a close second by the Go St. Louis marathon.  The fun part of traveling for races is the camaraderie.  American marathons tend to have a very large field limit--prior to running in Japan, I'd never run a marathon under 30,000 people.  Because of this, hotels near the start line are overrun with other competitors, and everyone you run into has an awesome story to tell about their goals, injuries, training plans, etc.

The Ibigawa marathon in Japan was a ghost town compared to what I'm used to.  Japanese marathons tend to have smaller field limits (possibly due to the narrower streets) and this particular race was limited to only 6000 marathoners and 4000 half marathoners--despite the fact the race sold out in less than an hour.  I think bigger cities like Tokyo have a larger field size.  The hotel we stayed at was 5 minutes from the start line... we only saw one other family participating in the race.  At the start line, I'm used to bantering about with other runners... but I think this group of runners might not be used to foreigners.  One woman standing next to me asked me to take her picture... but when she looked at my face and saw I was a foreigner, she apologized,  turned away and asked the man next to me instead.

In America,  you're required to go to the Expo the day before to pick up your race number, timing chip etc., and in Japan they mail it to you.  You still have to report in to sign a waiver before the race, but you aren't required to come a day early basically for the purpose of having to walk through aisles and aisles of crappy sales pitches.

In America, we have small private bands performing, as well as local school groups.  Despite the pouring rain, we had all of those things in Japan as well.  Instead of warming up to the latest popstar ear torment as we do in America, we grooved to a warbly Japanese man playing a banjo.  But better than a starting gun, in true Japanese fashion, we ran over the start line to the sound of fireworks (which unfortunately were inconveniently located *behind* us so a bit difficult to see:).

After a race in America

At every race there's always some one who brings a cowbell... and for a moment, I thought Japan had them too... but then I looked again and realized someone was banging on an ancient looking iron skillet with a spoon.  Classic.  And I really hate the people who snarkily yell out around mile 2... only 24.2 more miles!  Yep, those same people are here... this time, yelling only 39 more kilometers!  Bite me arsehole.  Not surprisingly, Japanese people are super conscientious about making sure their Gu, cups, and other trash actually end up in a trash bag, unlike in America where people carelessly throw their stuff everywhere (including in the way of other runners) and you have to run on a carpet of paper cups and half-eaten Gu.

The best thing Ibigawa had going for it was the children and old ladies.  I couldn't believe they still drug all the kindergarten and elementary students out in the cold and the rain... but I'm so glad they did. Honestly, life doesn't get much cuter than little kids in polka dot rain coats holding out hands covered with their too-long rain coat sleeves for a high five and yelling in a high pitched voice "Ganbatte kudasai!"  Cuteness overload.

In a close second were the little old ladies sitting on their porches all hunched over and wrinkly, clapping their hands like kids at Disneyland, chanting "Gan-ba-re, Gan-ba-re" and smiling like they won the lottery when you wave at them.  Old ladies are awesome.

When you finish a race in America, you get a medal... here, you get a towel, which I think is a little strange... but maybe it's the whole modesty thing?  If I had a towel for every race I'd run, my house would be covered in towels, so I guess the point is not to brag about your accomplishments like we do by hanging up our

Me and my towel in Ibigawa

medals on racks specially designed for that purpose.

Lastly, at the finish line in America you are pelted with food of all kinds... bagels, snack bars, fruit, etc.  In Japan, we got exactly one half of a banana and no water... only a bottle of Japanese style Gatorade, which I passed on.  If you want any other food, you gotta cough up some cash.  I wonder if it's because people aren't so big on donations here... for example, most of the sponsors of marathons in the U.S. use it as a tax deductible donation of products and free advertising for their items.

At any rate, I've been waiting three years to finally run my "last race"... and I have.  6 marathons is more than enough for anyone I think, and I can finally close this chapter of my life and move on to all the other things I've been wanting to try.  When I was single and uninjured, I thought I might someday do an Ironman... and maybe I will... someday.  For now, I want to focus on building strength, increasing speed, and varying my workouts.  Long distance running takes a lot of time, and I'm happy to have my weekends back.