I Flew to California to Buy My Wife a Porsche... Then Ran Marathon #128
Marathon #128 Started With Buying My Wife a Porsche
The Next Marathon
Most marathon weekends begin with a training plan.
Mine started because our son wanted to sell his Mercedes.
Seriously.
Our son decided it was time to sell his 2013 Mercedes C300. Becky looked at me and said,
“Why don’t I sell him my 2018 Porsche Macan S and you find me another one?”
I’ve been buying and selling cars for more than twenty years, so I accepted the assignment.
A few days later I tracked down a beautiful off-lease 2023 Porsche Macan at the Manheim Riverside auction.
Original MSRP?
About $74,000.
Auction price?
Around forty grand.
Now all we had to do was fly to California, pick up the Porsche, and drive it back to New Mexico.
Simple.
Then Becky noticed something.
“Hey, there’s a marathon in Camarillo that weekend.”
Of course there is.
Because apparently that’s how normal people shop for Porsches.
Wait…I Haven’t Trained
There was one small problem.
The last marathon I had run was San Diego—marathon number 127.
Since then my longest run had only been about 10 miles.
Most mornings I was running five miles.
About thirty miles a week.
Not exactly what most coaches would recommend before running another marathon.
Becky wasn’t concerned.
“You’ll figure it out. You always do.”
I wasn’t quite as confident.
The Camarillo Marathon offered an early 6:00 a.m. start for marathon runners and the half marathon began an hour later.
Since Becky was running the half, I asked race director Bill if she could start early with me so we could run together before she finished her race.
“No problem.”
Perfect.
Packet Pickup…and Carbon Shoes
Packet pickup was held at the Camarillo Premium Outlets.
If you’ve ever traveled with your spouse and she spots stores like Athleta, Lululemon, Coach, and Nike…
…you already know what happened.
Retail therapy commenced immediately.
While Becky was happily shopping, I was hanging out in the Nike store where we picked up our race packets.
This young employee noticed I was looking at their carbon-plated racing shoes.
He admitted he didn’t even run.
In fact, he laughed and said,
“I don’t run. Heck, I don’t even exercise. I’m built for doing nothing.”
This kid should have been doing stand-up comedy instead of selling shoes.
He pointed to a pair that retailed for around $300.
“I think I can get these down to about $90 with discounts and your coupon. At that price you should buy them just for the “flex”.”
The local part-time comedian disappeared into the back room.
Came back smiling.
“I’ve got exactly one pair left in your size.”
I tried them on.
They felt fantastic.
He asked,
“So…when are you going to run in them?”
“Tomorrow.”
His eyes got big.
“Don’t you have to break them in first?”
I laughed.
“I’ll break them in over 26.2 miles.”
Then I tried looking online to see if I could beat the price.
The webpage barely loaded.
The kid smiled again.
“Welcome to Camarillo. We’ve got nine Starbucks and zero cell towers.”
I walked out with a brand-new pair of carbon shoes.
What could possibly go wrong?
Race Morning
Our alarm went off around 4:30 a.m.
We checked out of the hotel because we planned to drive to Phoenix immediately after the race.
This wasn’t one of those huge marathons with fireworks, music, and thousands of runners waiting in corrals.
At 6:00 a.m. the park bathrooms opened.
Bill looked at the small group of runners.
“Okay…line up.”
And just like that…
We were running.
Honestly, it felt more like heading out for a Saturday morning training run than the start of another marathon.
I kind of liked that.
Running Together
Becky and I spent the first half marathon running together.
That alone made the trip worthwhile.
Eventually our races separated.
She crossed the finish line in 2:21:48, earning third place in her age group.
Meanwhile...
My race was just getting interesting.
Those New Shoes…
Around mile 15 my Achilles tendons started reminding me that buying brand-new carbon shoes the day before a marathon might not have been one of my better ideas.
By mile 20 I looked at my watch.
3:58.
My hoped-for finishing time was slipping into the future like an old Steve Miller song.
At that point I stopped worrying about my finishing time.
The goal had changed.
- Finish the marathon.
- Get into Becky’s new Porsche.
- Drive six and a half hours to Phoenix.
The Longest Six Miles
Those final 6.2 miles seemed to last forever.
The California sun kept getting hotter.
My legs kept getting slower.
My new shoes and my Achilles were no longer speaking to each other.
Somewhere around mile 25 Becky found me carrying cold water.
By this point she had already:
- Finished her race.
- Collected her award.
- Showered.
- Found Starbucks.
- Had lunch.
- And walked back out onto the course to find me.
I dumped the cold water over my head, thanked her, and kept shuffling toward the finish.
Sometimes marathon running isn’t about speed.
It’s about stubbornness.
The Marathon Finish Line
Eventually the finish line appeared.
It always does.
Final time:
5:06:29
- Not my fastest.
- Not my slowest.
- Just another medal.
- Another story.
Another reminder that experience can sometimes make up for preparation.
Sometimes.
But The Adventure Wasn’t Over
Most marathon stories end at the finish line.
Ours was just getting started.
I grabbed a couple of free tacos at the race.
Found a Planet Fitness where we could shower.
Gingerly climbed into Becky’s new Porsche.
And pointed it toward Phoenix.
Which meant driving through Los Angeles traffic.
- Palm Springs.
- Palm Desert.
- And the Coachella Valley.
In August.
The outside temperature eventually climbed to 119 degrees.
The Porsche and I had something in common.
The heat had gotten to both of us.
During one long uphill climb I even shut off the air conditioning to help keep engine temperatures down.
Then…
The check-engine light came on.
Fortunately, the car told me it was okay to keep driving.
Apparently both the Porsche and I had decided we weren’t quitting that day.
The Porsche Tax
Before leaving California, I thought I’d get the oil changed.
The local Porsche dealer quoted me…
$795.
I laughed.
Then drove to an Audi dealer.
Their quote?
$595.
I laughed again.
After calling several repair shops in Phoenix—some of which didn’t even know what a 2023 Porsche Macan was—I finally found one called We Fix It.
The oil change?
About $130.
They also replaced the rear brakes and rotors for another $700 after applying a coupon.
Considering the California quotes, I considered that a victory lap.
A total win for our crazy road trip—with another 5.5 hours still to drive back to Las Cruces, New Mexico.
And it was only 112 degrees by the time we escaped Phoenix and headed south toward Tucson.
That’s probably another story for CoolCarGuy.com or CarsFreak.com.
Why This Lives On Runner Freak
When people hear “marathon,” they usually think about 26.2 miles.
After 128 marathons, I think about something different.
I think about the people.
The conversations.
The road trips.
The mistakes.
The unexpected adventures.
Buying a Porsche.
Breaking in brand-new racing shoes during a marathon.
Driving through 119-degree heat.
Grungy Planet Fitness showers.
Free tacos.
A stand-up comedian working at Nike.
And somehow making it home.
Those are the things I’ll remember long after I’ve forgotten my finishing time.
That’s why Runner Freak exists.
Not to collect statistics.
To collect stories.
Want Your Own Parking Spot?
You don’t need to run marathons.
- Maybe you just finished your first 5K.
- Maybe you paced a friend.
- Maybe you volunteered at an aid station.
- Maybe you have a running story that’s too good to disappear into a social media feed.
For just $7, you can create your own Runner Freak Parking Spot and give that story a full page of its own.
Because eventually the miles fade.
The stories don’t.