Sunday, January 16, 2011 marked an eventful day for me. It was one year ago that I ran my very first half-marathon and on the 16th, I was poised to complete my anniversary run. The past year of running has been met with highs and lows. Though I’ve not suffered any major injuries, I have completed many a race with some ailment or another. I swore I would not complain about pain associated with running after I’d met Carol Dellinger and heard of her battle with breast cancer. Please note, Carol is a survivor and is cancer free. She too ran on Sunday to celebrate her anniversary run from last year, her “Come Back Run” following her breast cancer surgery. If you have not heard of Carol either through my Face Book comments or my earlier blog about Carol, please do yourself a favor and Google her. Her story is inspiring, and I am proud to know Carol as she continues to run and speak about the benefits of mammograms and the cure and prevention of breast cancer.
Last year when I’d committed to run in Arizona, the commitment was made with approximately 70 of my co-workers of which approximately 60 made it to the start line. We celebrated our finish with beer and hot tub relaxation (yes, I know…ice instead) and we pinky swore we would all come back to run the anniversary. We also committed to continue to run throughout the year together. Well, I can tell you we ran a few together and then my buddies hit the wall, all but my pal Patti Busque, who in spite of a move to New Mexico continues to hook up at a run with me. She traveled out to Virginia Beach in September for a Rock and Roll event and we, keeping to our pinky swear, ran Arizona to celebrate our anniversary.
I was told by many runners that upon the completion of a run I should immediately register for another or I might lose the momentum. Well my friends, no loss of momentum for the Widow. I booked several in one sitting when I returned from Arizona last January and I continue to book runs as we speak. I am committed through November of this year and still have dates to add to my calendar.
I clearly remember my finish from last year. I called my sister Sue in Florida and began to cry as I told her I’d completed my run. I can tell you that when I met Patti at bag check on Sunday, I was again overcome with some emotion welling up in me and had to take a moment to let a few tears roll. I suppose some of the emotion is knowing that at my age I can get up and run (and walk some) 13.1 miles. Who’d a guessed? Additionally, I think back on my personal growth over the past year, the strangers I have met who have become friends, the places I have traveled to run, the sights I’ve seen, the friends who have accompanied me, housed me, hugged me, and cheered for me as I pass through their town to run a short 13.1 miles. I cannot begin to count the blessings of the past year running. I cannot tell you of the love for Patti who keeps me grounded when we talk about running, and keeps me sane when we have the girl’s chats long into the night or during the drives to and from our 13.1 mile destination. It takes a special friend to understand and appreciate the runner’s head that goes along with the sport. The angst, the whining about whatever seems to be the whine of the moment: Weight gain (mine), strange aches and pains, runs that just didn’t live up to our (my) expectations. Runs we’ve loved, runs we’ve hated, and as always, the stories that become the take-away from a run. Much like most runs, there are moments I cherish and I want to share my most favorite from Sunday.
I was about at the 2 mile marker, running up McDowell and noticed two runners. In the throng of runners they would never have stood apart from the sea of pounding feet except for the fact that the gent in the duo was blind. You are wondering how I know. Well, he had his white cane in his left hand and holding the other end of the cane was a woman pacing him through the race. They were pacing in unison, he had his face turned upwards towards the warm Arizona sun, and his head was swaying every so softly much like Stevie Wonder does when he sings. I had a small chuckle when I heard his running companion tell him, “Don’t worry, I took a shower this morning so you won’t have to smell me for the whole race.” I suppose what made that comment even funnier to me is that Patti and I had discussed smelly runners the night before. So, there he was, this blind gentleman was running the PF Chang, Rock and Roll Half Marathon. Again my friends, I count my blessings. I was warmed in my soul to see him enjoying his accomplishment. I don’t know his story, I don’t know if this is his first, tenth or last run. It doesn’t matter. I was able for a few hundred yards to witness something so special that it will remain with me forever.
Now, I don’t want you to think I didn’t observe some of the ridiculous during the race as well like the young, buffed, 25 to 29 ish man that blew by me. I was ever so appreciative that he did because he had a physique worth looking at. He had on black running shorts only. Holy glistening body…pace with me a few more miles. I can chase that all day. Then the fun begins…he slows to a walk, so what the hell, I slowed to a walk; after all I didn’t want to wear myself out. Did I say he was easy on the eye? So, then he began to run and I began to run and off and on it went for a mile or so. Then all of the sudden, out of nowhere he pulled up a pair of bright orange compression sleeves which had been rolled down around his wrists. WTH? You either wear them or not…but I noticed they showed off his biceps very nicely and to his credit, he ran up to a little cutie with her blonde pony tail swishing to and fro and began to chat her up. I was surprised he didn’t flex those muscles in the sleeves. I got it…they really were for show. I don’t think Blondie was interested and he moved on, rolled down the sleeves, stopped to walk a bit and I paced past him. I figured there would be another good set of legs and a fine trunk to ogle somewhere down the road.
I mention all the time that running is a fabulous sport. I feel as though it is a love love relationship with the field of runners. I love the snippets of conversations you hear as folks pace past. There was the young lady discussing her up coming run at Disney, Florida in the next month or so. There are the runners discussing their times, new shoes, work and the like. It is a crossroads of cultures, genders, ages, and sizes. There are friends, lovers, siblings, husbands and wives, moms and dads and co-workers. And there is always the ass. I hear at least one “ass” comment during every race. Sunday’s was no different and it struck me more than others I’ve heard because a few miles prior to the nasty gram I’d seen a blind man running.
There was a group of four friends running off to my right. They looked to be mid twenties, all in good shape, college preppy looking in their running attire and manner and Mr. Jackass spoke up to be heard above a friends ear buds. The comment was something like this: “So, I was hiking (fill in the trail) and there was this blind guy. I mean, WTF? What are you doing on the trail? Like, it isn’t as though you can enjoy the view. I mean what will you say when you get home? I hiked (fill in the name) trail?”
Precisely my insensitive young running friend.
That is exactly what he will say; probably what the blind runner I passed on McDowell will say. He is blind, he ran the race, he will have a medallion to show for it and he will have a memory that will far outweigh mine. Hey 25 year old jerk, what will you say when you complete this half-marathon? You will be bragging that you ran the race, show off your bling, and crow about your time. The difference is that you have your youth, your health and lord willing you will continue to have your youth, health, good looks and a very bright future. Um, what did you say when YOU finished hiking the trail?
Least you think this was a downer, nope. Again, I find humor in all things random. For instance, when Patti and I were boarding our school bus to be transported to the start line I had to laugh. We were boarding the Balsz Elementary School Bus. We laughed about the name and the cheers that might be chanted a school games. Let’s Go Balsz! We Got Balsz! Gimme a B, Gimme an A, Gimme an L, Gimme a S, Gimme a Z, whats that spell? BALSZ! Yup, they must have some fun at those school games!
As with most Rock and Roll races, the community comes to support the runners herding down their streets. Aside from the bands every mile or so, there are the schools who have cheerleaders (nope, the Balsz were not represented) dance teams, and pep squads roadside to cheer on the runners. This year there was a group with cute young ladies dressed in their Sesame Street costumes…Elmo in a tutu…so cute and so much more appropriate than the perv on the corner of Time Square. They were handing out cookies dressed as Elmo, Ernie, Bert and a host of other characters. The cookie was good!
Everywhere there were family members and friends holding signs for their favorite runner. They had noise makers and cheered for everyone who passed by. I remarked to Patti afterwards that it was nice this past year to have a couple races where I had girlfriends at the end to cheer me in. I would like to think that at some point in my running future, I might look up and see a big sign just for me. That my friends might go to the trouble to stand on a street corner to catch a fleeing glimpse of me for the 30 seconds it takes to pass by and to have created a big ass sign to hold up for my viewing pleasure (hint, hint, haha, no really, hint hint).
Sunday was definitely a good cleansing race. Every race seems to move more of the life clutter from my head. I don’t drag baggage anywhere; actually have little to none other than the overhead bag of running gear that travels from race to race with me. I like that baggage because I pack it. It is not some old crap of past issues tagging along for frequent flyer miles. Running nurtures my spirit! Since I took up the sport I have told more than one person that I am a runner and I love to run; I can’t register for enough races. The best sign of the race on Sunday put it all in proper perspective for me. The sign read, “After this race you will no loner be a runner, you will be a marathoner.” So, from now on I will be the Diva Widow Fike: Marathoner!
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