San Jose Rock and Roll 1/2 marathon

I ran 13.1 miles Sunday. Musn't forget about the .1 The .1 was the point in the run when I was saying to myself "where the hell is the bloody finish line anyway?!? I'm about to die here!!!!"

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's start back at mile 1.

THREE HOURS EARLIER (yes, it took me three hours from start to finish)
The race started at 8 am. I was excited and nervous and feeling a little bit mad and most definitley bummed out. My sweetie and I had a bit of a "communications breakdown" earlier that morning which resulted in me standing at the starting gate all by myself. Well, there were 11,800 other runners out there, but the most important person to me was still in bed. And considering the not quite so loving exchange of words we had as I stormed out of the house, chances are he was going to remain where he was and I would be on my own for thirteen long miles. Somehow the prospect of running my first half marathon without my best friend being there wasn't quite so much fun. Actually, what seemed possible before was now overwhelming without his support; I count on him for so many things, but mostly just having him there makes me feel stronger and braver. But now because of a stupid fight, I was on my own.

So I stood at the starting line waiting for the gun, my heart hopeful everytime I saw a bike go past that maybe...just possibly...but no. The guy on the mountain bike was 60 years old and fat. Definitley not my sweetie. The gun finally went off, the race had started and we headed out very slowly, walking until the crowd thinned a bit. There was always the possibilty that he would show up at mile 6 like he had said before we fought, so with that thought in mind to cheer me up, I settled into a nice easy pace and began to run. I crossed over the timing mat, waved at the camera guy and headed out for the longest run I've ever done.

Miles 1-3
It was great weather for a run; the sun was coming up, it was still cool out and I felt great. I waved at people, cheered with everyone else when we came to the first band, and finally felt happy to be running. I passed the 2:45 pace runner and felt quite the athlete. "Look at me, I'm going to finish BEFORE 2:45! I rock!" Yes, it's very easy to be hopeful at mile 2. I was barely warmed up and I was already planning on how I was going to cross the finish line in under two hours. Why I felt so good, I wouldn't have to walk at all! Ah yes, it's good to be at mile 2. Running is the best sport ever, and I'm truly the greatest athlete since Joan Bennet at mile 2.

Music on ipod: Bob Fitts, "He Will Save You." I was in need of some divine inspiration that morning. "I know I can do all things, I can do all things through Christ, with the power of God and the word of life, I can do all things through Christ. And he will come and save you , he will come and save you, say to the weary one, your God will surely come, he will come and save you." Rather prophetic for the upcoming 13 miles. I wasn't weary yet, but oh I would be!

Miles 4-6
The first 2 water stations had come and gone, and I had walked through both of them. It's difficult to drink water and run at the same time. The whole dribbling factor comes into play. Lots of people were out cheering, and I felt like a rock star coming through San Pedro Square. People lined the streets, clapping and ringing cowbells. Then right before mile 4, heading towards the finish line on the opposite side of the street we saw them; the first runners out of the start. These were the olympic hopefuls, streaking by, looking very serious and very fast. We cheered them on "YAY! You're faster than us! You get to sit down and rest in a matter of minutes while we have a whole 9 more miles to go! YAY!"

Mile five was at the top of a hill; we cheered at mile 5. It was very big to cheer at the mile markers, all of us high fiving as we crossed each mile off. That lasted until around mile 7, then it became too much effort. "yay...mile 7...big deal...6 more miles to go....damn." I started feeling mile 5 in my legs. The longest I had run during my "training" plan was 6 miles. I was pretty sure I could do 8 miles, but my legs were looking forward to a nice sit down at mile 6. They were in for a rude awakening.

As mile 6 drew closer I started scanning the streets all the while arguing with myself "He won't be there, you know he won't be there. You told him not to be there, so don't expect him to be..." Oh, but I really wanted to see him. I was getting tired, I wasn't even half way done, and I needed to see him. "Please, please let him be there...please..." The YMCA came into view, then the black 6 mile marker...I saw a mountain bike...but nope. I was still on my own.

Music on ipod: Survivor "Eye of the Tiger", Beach Boys "Fun, Fun, Fun", Blondie "Call Me".
I hope I wasn't singing along, sometimes I do that when I run. "It's the eye of the tiger, it the thrill of the fight..." Yay, baby! Mile 7 here I come!


Miles 7-9
Suddenly I hate running. My feet hurt, my legs hurt, my shoulders hurt, my butt hurts. Even my gosh darn (edited for family reading) belly button hurts. I positively hate running. What a stupid idea. 13 miles! I'm dying. I'm so tired. I can't possibly move...one...more...step. Ooh, Black Eyed Peas! And I'm off and running "Let's get it started, Let's get it started in here, Let's get it started...running and running and running and running..." YAY! Go Fergie! Bless Apple and the ipod. Unfortunately it only takes me half way through mile 7. So I play it over and over and over and over again.

Mile 8 comes and goes. Feeble cheer "woohoo". Now I'm in uncharted territory. I haven't trained for 9 miles and I am so tired. But 9 miles, that's so close to 13 miles and really, what am I going to do? Quit? Sit at the side of the road until the last runner goes by and I get picked up by the broom wagon? So I walk a bit, and I run a bit, and I walk a bit. Some guy has his boombox at the side of the road and he's playing the theme song to Rocky. Rocky didn't give up, right? He was out there punching a side of beef, and dancing up stairs. "Are you a walker or a runner?" I ask my self sternly. A runner of course. " Well, get your ass in gear and start running." I try, but the most I can manage is a brisk walk.

I pass the 9 mile marker (another feeble cheer) and look over at the street corner. The best thing in the whole world has happened. My heart grows light and my feet have wings; I break into a sprint, the fastest I've run the whole race. "He's here! He's here! He's really here!"
I leap over the curb, nearly knock over a spectator and throw my tired, stinky sweaty arms around him. And he says to me the words I've waited 9 whole miles to hear. "Um, so why aren't you running?"

Ah yes, that's my sweetie. To which I reply "Why the hell are you on my road bike!? Where's your own bike?" But, you know, I was smiling. I was so glad to see him. It was like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Tired, aching feet? No problem. 13 miles?I can run 13 miles. Heck, I can sprint the rest of the way if I have to, cause here he is, he is here!!!

Mile 9-10.
On the ipod: Helen Reddy "I am Woman". "I am woman, here me roar...I am strong, I am invincible, I am woman!" 10 miles! I've run ten miles. I am invincible! I am also really, really tired. But I've got three miles left. And I've got my sweetie on my bike cruising next to me, so three little miles. So easy, a mere jog around the block. Anyone can do three miles, right? I walk, and I run, and I walk and I run. My feet are really hurting, so I stop at the water station, take off my shoe and rearrange my sock. That brings some relief, so I run a little more. The girl I started the race with passes me and pats me on the shoulder. "You can do it!" I nod, try to look like I was on a planned walk break, and start to run again.

Mile 11
Oh my God, when is this stupid run EVER going to be over?!?!

Music on the ipod: Maroon Five, Harder to Breathe "Is there anybody out there? It's getting harder and harder to breathe..." Tell me about it.

Mile 12


This was it. The last mile. I just had to crank the ipod, suck it up and hang tough for one last mile. I got a kiss, took a deep breath and started to run. I was going to run across that finish line even if it killed me.

Music: Possibly the best song ever, if not a little cheesy. It's been on my mind a lot since the divorce; how to live the rest of my life. Suddenly it seems very important not to waste time on things that don't matter, and to make every minute count.
On my ipod the last mile: Tim McGraw; Live Like You Were Dying

"He said I was in my early forties
with a lot of life before me
when a moment came that stopped me on a dime
and I spent most of the next days
looking at the x-rays
Talking bout the options
and talking bout sweet time
I asked him when it sank in
that this might really be the real end
how's it hit you when you get that kinda news
man what'd you do?

And he said
I went sky diving
I went Rocky Mountain climbing
I went 2.7 seconds on a bull named BluManchu
and I loved deeper and I spoke sweeter
and I gave forgiveness I'd been denying
and he said someday I hope you get the chance
to live like you were dying. "

Like tomorrow was a gift and you got eternity to think about
what'd you do with it
what did you do with it "

When I go out running, I have this little fantasy that plays through my head towards the end of my run when I'm tired and ready to walk the rest of the way home. I imagine there's a crowd lining the sidewalk cheering me on, and the finish line is just in front of me. Sprint! I tell myself, and I take off. The crowd cheers, my legs flash, and I am running; running so fast and so strong until I cross the finish line; a winner.

It's a good fantasy, but I tell you, it's a whole lot better in real life.

13.1 miles
The crowd is cheering and I am running; running so fast and so strong until I cross the finish line, a winner.