"How much are you charging for a full mask?"
"Nothing for this event."
"Really?" I ask. I've been charged everything from 3 to 15 bucks for all manner of face-painting styles. She was currently giving my daughter the full-on Frozen treatment, with an array of snowflakes dotting her forehead and cheeks.
"I never charge when I do the Run Because You Can Event. The family lost their son and he's a beautiful angel and I want to honor that, so I don't charge."
"You know the reason we come here every year is because I lost my son too and their story reminds me so much of my own."
"Bless you sweetheart."
I tipped her five bucks once she finished with my daughter's face.
That was my moment from this year's event. Usually the event is filled with so many more of them for me. Unfortunately, an injury had me side-lined this year so I didn't run it. I kept my eye out for the kid in the stroke-survivor shirt, but I didn't see him. I missed the bagpipe player because he was out on the course and not at the park. And even though I tweeted that I wanted to meet Randy Seevers and I hoped I'd get to, I didn't.
What I did get was a chance to express, however briefly, what Rhett Seevers and his story meant to me to someone there. And it really means so much. As bereaved parents, its hard for us to find a place to put our energy and emotions that had pretty much been given fully to the children we cared about. But the Seevers created this race and their foundation to have a place to put all of that, as a way to remember Rhett and all the gifts he gave them and so my family and I make the hour and a half trek every year to remember Rhett and to remember our own son and to honor the journey he took us and is still taking us on.
One of these days I will meet the Seevers and I'll shake their hands and tell them how important this all is to me. But right now I'll work on getting injury free and getting race ready for next year so I can hear the bagpipes play and brighten up my day. To the organizers of the event, thanks for a great day and all the great days your race provides.
Showing posts with label Me Running. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Me Running. Show all posts
Monday, November 03, 2014
Thursday, January 09, 2014
Racing at Andrew's Run and Barely Surviving
Larry the Leftie reappeared as mysteriously as he had left a few months back. I looked down and there he was one day, looking at me forlornly. No one had answers for how he'd mysteriously rematerialized. I have several theories mind you. The first was that he had gotten kidnapped by Tuco, taken to a ramshackle hut in the middle of the desert to hang out with his scary uncle who uses a bell to communicate and have to make the tough trek back home, alone, thinking of several lies to cover his tracks (RIP Breaking Bad. I miss you). But I'm pretty sure that if my left running shoe was actually an underground Meth Kingpin, I'd know by now.
The second theory involves a peyote fueled vision quest, but where would an Adidas shoe even know where to get peyote? The third theory is that he just needed to take some time to find himself and maybe write the great American novel, and when that didn't work out, he decided to come back.
Whatever his reasons for disappearing, his returned was much appreciated, by me anyway. Ralphie is still a bit mad because Larry still won't tell him what happened and they've been really terse with each other for awhile. I'll put them in couples counseling soon to resolve the issue.
But I need them to work in unison because I had another 5k to run. This time it was for Andrew's Run in Modesto CA. Andrews run was reason for wanting to run a 5k in the first place. The proceeds go directly to George Mark House so you know I was going to support it fully.
Thankfully, the race started at 9 am, which was nice. It takes about an hour to get there from where we live, and not a one of us, baby, grandpa, husband or wife, cherished leaving in the dark of the morning. Leaving out at daybreak made the transition a little smoother. The car ride was spent with me entertaining the baby while my husband argued with his father and with the GPS at differing intervals.
Even though we'd been at the park where the race was being held once before, we still got lost again which led to more arguing with the GPS which is always fun because my husband is arguing with an extremely proper British Lady who ISN'T THERE. I find it amusing every time it happens.
The race set-up was a little ramshackle. I'm use to several tents and booths you can meander around while waiting for the race to begin, but this race didn't have that sort of set up at all. Some of the organized futzed with the race sign for twenty minutes. Race organizers were using the picnic tables and to be honest, everything looked scatter shot. But we got our bright green, very awesome long sleeve race shirts with the George Mark logo emblazoned on the front, so I was happy as a clam.
We waited at the start line, which was not your typical race line. I looked at fighting nun and said, where's the race clock? We looked around and determined that a man in cap, and long somewhat disheveled hair was the time keeper. "Mr. Rosso is our timekeeper?" I said incredulously "But he can't even keep Lindsey Weir on the straight and narrow. We're doomed!"
We started the race somewhere in the middle of the pack and based on my pace, we were getting passed left and right. Fighting Nun was trying to get me to pick up the pace and I was just trying to keep it together. I don't know if my sleep deprivation was catching up with me, if the blerch had gained three pounds and hated me or what, but I wanted desperately not be doing what I was doing.
I tried looking at the scenery instead, which was actually very picturesque. Actually, the park and the path in the park on which we were running would have to be considered my ideal running situation. Since I have started running, I have longed for a wooded, wonderfully shaded path with lots of greenery so I could avoid the sun while having something to look at. The park saw my shaded path with lots of greenery and raised me with a running river so I could listen to the water go by. It was perfect if I wasn't such a crabby mess.
I was always looking for the next marker, telling me how close I was to the finish line. I found it interesting that the markers were chalked onto the walk instead of signs on display. It just felt slapped together as a whole enterprise which is not in and of itself a bad thing, but just worth noting.
And then I had that moment again, where I find my champion, my inspiration to keep going. This time it was in the form of a man with cerebral palsy. He was older than me but only by a few years I'd reckon and his running form was hampered by something, but he kept pushing on. That lasted until I lost sight of him, then my shoe came untied (you'd think it was Larry, trying to make a clean break for it, once and for all, but in a clear sign of mutiny, it was Ralphie).
With about 3/4 of a mile to go I said "I'm Run DMCing it hun." It was all I could get out of my system.
"That's nice dear," my husband who clearly didn't understand what I meant said. "Keep running."
Finally it took a runner passing us to say "Do you know your shoe is untied?" for my husband to get the point.
"Your shoe is untied?"
"Yes, that's what I said a tenth of a mile ago. I"m Run DMCing it, adidas's with no lace's, Walk this Way? Duh."
"Whatever, just finish the race."
We finished the race about twenty seconds off my best time but we still got it done. Bottom line is it was a lovely race despite some foibles and I'll be happy to do it again, provided Larry doesn't disappear again and Ralphy doesn't try to jump ship mid-race. See you there next year.
The second theory involves a peyote fueled vision quest, but where would an Adidas shoe even know where to get peyote? The third theory is that he just needed to take some time to find himself and maybe write the great American novel, and when that didn't work out, he decided to come back.
Whatever his reasons for disappearing, his returned was much appreciated, by me anyway. Ralphie is still a bit mad because Larry still won't tell him what happened and they've been really terse with each other for awhile. I'll put them in couples counseling soon to resolve the issue.
But I need them to work in unison because I had another 5k to run. This time it was for Andrew's Run in Modesto CA. Andrews run was reason for wanting to run a 5k in the first place. The proceeds go directly to George Mark House so you know I was going to support it fully.
Thankfully, the race started at 9 am, which was nice. It takes about an hour to get there from where we live, and not a one of us, baby, grandpa, husband or wife, cherished leaving in the dark of the morning. Leaving out at daybreak made the transition a little smoother. The car ride was spent with me entertaining the baby while my husband argued with his father and with the GPS at differing intervals.
Even though we'd been at the park where the race was being held once before, we still got lost again which led to more arguing with the GPS which is always fun because my husband is arguing with an extremely proper British Lady who ISN'T THERE. I find it amusing every time it happens.
The race set-up was a little ramshackle. I'm use to several tents and booths you can meander around while waiting for the race to begin, but this race didn't have that sort of set up at all. Some of the organized futzed with the race sign for twenty minutes. Race organizers were using the picnic tables and to be honest, everything looked scatter shot. But we got our bright green, very awesome long sleeve race shirts with the George Mark logo emblazoned on the front, so I was happy as a clam.
We started the race somewhere in the middle of the pack and based on my pace, we were getting passed left and right. Fighting Nun was trying to get me to pick up the pace and I was just trying to keep it together. I don't know if my sleep deprivation was catching up with me, if the blerch had gained three pounds and hated me or what, but I wanted desperately not be doing what I was doing.
I tried looking at the scenery instead, which was actually very picturesque. Actually, the park and the path in the park on which we were running would have to be considered my ideal running situation. Since I have started running, I have longed for a wooded, wonderfully shaded path with lots of greenery so I could avoid the sun while having something to look at. The park saw my shaded path with lots of greenery and raised me with a running river so I could listen to the water go by. It was perfect if I wasn't such a crabby mess.
I was always looking for the next marker, telling me how close I was to the finish line. I found it interesting that the markers were chalked onto the walk instead of signs on display. It just felt slapped together as a whole enterprise which is not in and of itself a bad thing, but just worth noting.
And then I had that moment again, where I find my champion, my inspiration to keep going. This time it was in the form of a man with cerebral palsy. He was older than me but only by a few years I'd reckon and his running form was hampered by something, but he kept pushing on. That lasted until I lost sight of him, then my shoe came untied (you'd think it was Larry, trying to make a clean break for it, once and for all, but in a clear sign of mutiny, it was Ralphie).
With about 3/4 of a mile to go I said "I'm Run DMCing it hun." It was all I could get out of my system.
"That's nice dear," my husband who clearly didn't understand what I meant said. "Keep running."
Finally it took a runner passing us to say "Do you know your shoe is untied?" for my husband to get the point.
"Your shoe is untied?"
"Yes, that's what I said a tenth of a mile ago. I"m Run DMCing it, adidas's with no lace's, Walk this Way? Duh."
"Whatever, just finish the race."
We finished the race about twenty seconds off my best time but we still got it done. Bottom line is it was a lovely race despite some foibles and I'll be happy to do it again, provided Larry doesn't disappear again and Ralphy doesn't try to jump ship mid-race. See you there next year.
Monday, November 04, 2013
Coming full circle at Run Because You Can
It's been about two weeks give or take a few days and I still can't find my other running shoe. I've come up with some really good theories (some involving aliens, the other involving the same monster that steals one sock but leaves you the other) about where Larry the lefty had gone, but the shoe itself? No dice. Larry has just disappeared, no ransom note, no suicide letter, nothing. Just poof it was gone. I asked Ralphy, his partner of 2 and half years if he'd like me to file a missing shoeson's report, but Ralphy politely demurred.
Larry the Lefty's disappearance, while it hadn't surprised me per say (like nobody's lost half of a pair or shoes before. Come on, that happens to everybody, doesn't it? Doesn't it?), it had me more than a little frazzled because at the time of Larry's disappearance, Run Because You Can was only a week away.
The Runnin' for Rhett Foundation's Run Because You Can was my first 5k race last year, and it still stands out as my favorite. I've done a handful since, and this one it by far the best organized, most well laid out race, and the most fun I've had. And all the proceeds go to benefit a scholarship fund and youth fitness outreach program. Plus, the organizers of the event had a very similar story to my own.
The had a son with Cerebral Palsy who couldn't walk who passed away far too soon. We had a son with Cerebral Palsy who couldn't walk who passed away far too soon. Their story and what they've done after he passed are completely inspirational to me, and I told myself after the first race that there was no way I was missing this one.
So, there we were at Crocker Park, a year later, a cold and blustery November morning, me in my understudy pumas that I'd have to make due with in terms of footwear (RIP Larry), my husband in shorts he clearly hadn't thought through, having driven the hour and a half from Livermore to Sacramento, waiting in the 5k start line when I had a little moment.
Before I explain this little moment, note that there's usually no shortage of driving forces and things to motivate me at Runnin' for Rhett's Run Because You Can. They have a Bagpiper on the course for crying out loud. A Bagpiper in full dress, kilt and all, that this year, looked like he was freezing his you-know-whats off but a Bagpiper nonetheless. That bagpiper fills me with glee ya'll. It makes me happy and keeps me running. And there was a Marching band! And a Glee Club performing on the side! There was no shortage of entertainment to be had on the course.
And there's usually all sorts of inspiration that Runnin' for Rhett provides off the course as well. Just watch this video of Aiden, a kid with Cerebral Palsy, finishing his first 5k, or watch this other one with Dawson, who's not allowed to do a lot of strenuous activity because of a heart condition, complete the race with his dad carrying him on his back. I keep those guys in my head every time I run because if they can do it, so can I.
But my little moment before the race was a bit different. A mom and her son were standing next to us. The son had a neon yellow t-shirt on, which had been hand decorated. On the front it said Runnin' for Rhett Survivor and it had a ribbon pin painted on it. On the back it said "Kids get Strokes too" "Survivor".
I desperately wanted to know his story and to tell him how proud I was of him to be running. But things progressed too quickly and I couldn't.
Randy Seevers, his wife Beth, a TV anchor and the woman getting the scholarship fund took to a raised platform at the starter's gate. Randy mentioned all the great work the charity was doing, his wife talked about their son and how we were all running because he couldn't, the scholarship got handed off and the National Anthem got sung. Before we knew it, the starter pistol had been fired and we were off.
It was mayhem the first half mile. One of the awesome things this race does is promote running and staying active in elementary schools and all of the district's schools had racers. The year before, all the schools started after the 5k and 10k racers, but this year, somebody didn't do a good job of separating the kids in the schools from the rest of the racers, so not only did we have to navigate our way through the other racers, but we also had to navigate around throngs of kids as well.
It wasn't a huge issue, and it was something I was well aware of. Last year an eleven-year-old paced me, then stopped, then paced me again, three separate times, the little rapscallion, but this year it was a little bit more unwieldy, and I hope they do a better job about separating out the youth running from the 5k and 10k race in the future.
About a mile and half I felt myself wanting to back way off. It wasn't a wall per say. It was the blerch. It was that little thing in the back of my head telling me I could stop and eat cake and watch a marathon of Game of Thrones episodes or do anything else than run. Then I looked ahead of me and about a quarter mile ahead was the kid in the yellow shirt, and he and his mom were booking. That was the motivation I needed and I started booking too. Then, with about a half mile to go, we hit a hill, and a head wind, and I took a moment and stopped, much to my husband's chagrin, but then I spotted it again, further ahead and about to turn the corner to the finish line, that little yellow shirt.
He made me happy to be racing, he was one of the reasons I was racing after all, for him, for Rhett, for Aiden, for Dawson, for Ukiah, for Ukiah most of all I think, for my daughter, but also for me.
I rounded the corner and tried to give it more gas. I spotted Randy Seevers sitting on the curb right by the finish line and I beamed. He had to have been the busiest man there. The only person busier is the Runnin' for Rhett Gorilla (they have a gorilla mascot that runs the race, cheering people on. It doesn't top the bagpiper in terms of sheer mirth making, but it gets close). I saw him do everything he could for that race that day, talking to the racers, shaking hands, at the start line, at the finish line. It was incredible.
Once we got across the finish line, we were given finishing metals, which were really awesome and beautiful. My husband said he looked up at the time clock and he said we came in at 31:13. My jaw dropped. When I run by myself, I think the best time I've clocked is 33:34, if I'm lucky. This time I set down was a testament to my husband and to that little kid in the yellow shirt who I wanted to see again.
As soon as we were done, we grabbed water and some fruit from the line. My father-in-law had come with us to watch my boisterous 2-year-old daughter and so my husband had me stay close to the food booth (Let's be honest, he parked me by the garbage can) while he went in search of them.
While he was gone, parked right in front of me were the kid in the yellow shirt, his mom, and a throng of supporters. I wanted to tell him everything, how I wanted to hear his story, how I was so proud of him for running, and running faster than me, how he was my motivation a big portion of the race. But there wasn't time for that. Instead, I went up to him, told him he did a great job and gave him a thumbs up. To him, I'm probably some weird lady who was just on the course. But to me, he was everything that day.
And that's why I love this race. Among the many things it does, it gives kids like him a platform to say they are more than just a diagnosis, that they are strong and amazing. Any nitpicks I have about the race are hearsay when giving kids with special needs a voice happens to be that race's legacy. Run Because You Can and never stop. And you know, try not to lose a running shoe a week before the race.
ETA: The Mom of the amazing kid I spotted at Run Because You Can found me and wrote to me in the comments. Her entire family sounds incredible but that boy even more so. He suffers from Bow Hunter's Syndrome which causes pediatric strokes in children. He's had an uphill battle to fight. The doctors said he might never walk again, and he ran that race and beat my time by a lot! He's my hero and so is his family.
Larry the Lefty's disappearance, while it hadn't surprised me per say (like nobody's lost half of a pair or shoes before. Come on, that happens to everybody, doesn't it? Doesn't it?), it had me more than a little frazzled because at the time of Larry's disappearance, Run Because You Can was only a week away.
The Runnin' for Rhett Foundation's Run Because You Can was my first 5k race last year, and it still stands out as my favorite. I've done a handful since, and this one it by far the best organized, most well laid out race, and the most fun I've had. And all the proceeds go to benefit a scholarship fund and youth fitness outreach program. Plus, the organizers of the event had a very similar story to my own.
The had a son with Cerebral Palsy who couldn't walk who passed away far too soon. We had a son with Cerebral Palsy who couldn't walk who passed away far too soon. Their story and what they've done after he passed are completely inspirational to me, and I told myself after the first race that there was no way I was missing this one.
 |
| via |
Before I explain this little moment, note that there's usually no shortage of driving forces and things to motivate me at Runnin' for Rhett's Run Because You Can. They have a Bagpiper on the course for crying out loud. A Bagpiper in full dress, kilt and all, that this year, looked like he was freezing his you-know-whats off but a Bagpiper nonetheless. That bagpiper fills me with glee ya'll. It makes me happy and keeps me running. And there was a Marching band! And a Glee Club performing on the side! There was no shortage of entertainment to be had on the course.
And there's usually all sorts of inspiration that Runnin' for Rhett provides off the course as well. Just watch this video of Aiden, a kid with Cerebral Palsy, finishing his first 5k, or watch this other one with Dawson, who's not allowed to do a lot of strenuous activity because of a heart condition, complete the race with his dad carrying him on his back. I keep those guys in my head every time I run because if they can do it, so can I.
But my little moment before the race was a bit different. A mom and her son were standing next to us. The son had a neon yellow t-shirt on, which had been hand decorated. On the front it said Runnin' for Rhett Survivor and it had a ribbon pin painted on it. On the back it said "Kids get Strokes too" "Survivor".
I desperately wanted to know his story and to tell him how proud I was of him to be running. But things progressed too quickly and I couldn't.
Randy Seevers, his wife Beth, a TV anchor and the woman getting the scholarship fund took to a raised platform at the starter's gate. Randy mentioned all the great work the charity was doing, his wife talked about their son and how we were all running because he couldn't, the scholarship got handed off and the National Anthem got sung. Before we knew it, the starter pistol had been fired and we were off.
It was mayhem the first half mile. One of the awesome things this race does is promote running and staying active in elementary schools and all of the district's schools had racers. The year before, all the schools started after the 5k and 10k racers, but this year, somebody didn't do a good job of separating the kids in the schools from the rest of the racers, so not only did we have to navigate our way through the other racers, but we also had to navigate around throngs of kids as well.
It wasn't a huge issue, and it was something I was well aware of. Last year an eleven-year-old paced me, then stopped, then paced me again, three separate times, the little rapscallion, but this year it was a little bit more unwieldy, and I hope they do a better job about separating out the youth running from the 5k and 10k race in the future.
About a mile and half I felt myself wanting to back way off. It wasn't a wall per say. It was the blerch. It was that little thing in the back of my head telling me I could stop and eat cake and watch a marathon of Game of Thrones episodes or do anything else than run. Then I looked ahead of me and about a quarter mile ahead was the kid in the yellow shirt, and he and his mom were booking. That was the motivation I needed and I started booking too. Then, with about a half mile to go, we hit a hill, and a head wind, and I took a moment and stopped, much to my husband's chagrin, but then I spotted it again, further ahead and about to turn the corner to the finish line, that little yellow shirt.
He made me happy to be racing, he was one of the reasons I was racing after all, for him, for Rhett, for Aiden, for Dawson, for Ukiah, for Ukiah most of all I think, for my daughter, but also for me.
 | |
| That woman with a look of death in her eyes? It's me! Found Via |
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| The finisher's Metal! Via |
As soon as we were done, we grabbed water and some fruit from the line. My father-in-law had come with us to watch my boisterous 2-year-old daughter and so my husband had me stay close to the food booth (Let's be honest, he parked me by the garbage can) while he went in search of them.
While he was gone, parked right in front of me were the kid in the yellow shirt, his mom, and a throng of supporters. I wanted to tell him everything, how I wanted to hear his story, how I was so proud of him for running, and running faster than me, how he was my motivation a big portion of the race. But there wasn't time for that. Instead, I went up to him, told him he did a great job and gave him a thumbs up. To him, I'm probably some weird lady who was just on the course. But to me, he was everything that day.
And that's why I love this race. Among the many things it does, it gives kids like him a platform to say they are more than just a diagnosis, that they are strong and amazing. Any nitpicks I have about the race are hearsay when giving kids with special needs a voice happens to be that race's legacy. Run Because You Can and never stop. And you know, try not to lose a running shoe a week before the race.
ETA: The Mom of the amazing kid I spotted at Run Because You Can found me and wrote to me in the comments. Her entire family sounds incredible but that boy even more so. He suffers from Bow Hunter's Syndrome which causes pediatric strokes in children. He's had an uphill battle to fight. The doctors said he might never walk again, and he ran that race and beat my time by a lot! He's my hero and so is his family.
Monday, October 29, 2012
Running and liking it!
So remember how I decided to train for a 5k and I thought I was going to die, and I was miserable and I had the mother of all running mood swings? Well, I finally ran my first 5k race this weekend and I have to say, I'm pleasantly surprised (read: Holy Crap am I shocked!) at my transformation and my results.
**Warning: Boring running training information ahead. I went from running a mile in 14 minutes to running a mile in at around 10:30 . I went from thinking I was going to die after only a mile and a half to running just over three miles pretty gamely and easily. Before I started training, I was pretty convinced I'd be walking that last half-mile. Instead, I ran the whole thing, and I put in my personal best time to date!
I think a lot of that had to do with the experience and the cause for which I was running. I had never run a race before and I really had no idea what to expect. I just knew I needed to pick a race that was benefiting a charity I could get behind. So we found the Run Because You Can race. This race benefits the Runnin' For Rhett organization, which was founded by a family who lost their little boy in circumstances very similar to the way we lost Ukiah. How could I not get behind that? All of the decorations and race t-shirts were baby blue, like Ukiah's eyes. That's really all I needed to sign on.
The race itself was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. At first I was a little intimidated. When the hubbie and I run, it's by ourselves on a very deserted stretch of neighborhood. I'd never been in a mass of people like that, and I really didn't know how I'd manage running in a group. But everybody was cool. People who wanted to pass us did, people who were slower let us pass. I didn't find it intimidating at all. In fact, I felt a kind of confidence in numbers. All those people running around me buoyed me and made me feel confident in my abilities, motivating me. Also motivating? The bag-piper in a kilt. You guys know how I feel about kilts. I may or may not have made my feelings known about bag-pipers, but I'll briefly explain anyway. I think they are completely awesome! He was stationed at a turn in the first mile and he made me completely happy. That is he made me happy until I realized one of my shoes was fully untied and I was slipping out of my shoe and telling my husband that I had to stop and tie it was going to piss him off. And it did. I don't know why he was so bent out of shape though, because I spotted three other racers that had the same footwear problem, but oh well. After I got it tied, he put the hammer down pace wise, consciously or sub-consciously punishing me for not checking my shoes before the race.
Fighting Nun doesn't want to admit this about himself, but thanks to years of playing soccer, he feels this innate need to keep up with or pace the guy in front of him, which means he started going a lot faster than I'd ever gone with him. Until I successfully got him to pull back a little, it was a punishing pace. There was a kid, not more than thirteen that would put the pedal to metal, pass us, then walk and we'd pass him and then he'd starting running flat out again. I think my husband was trying to match that little pain in the ass's pace! At that point, I had no idea how far we had gone because I had forgotten the GPS watch at home and I knew I had to pace myself for the finish. At about the halfway mark, I heard a fellow racer say it was the halfway mark and I breathed a sigh of relief.
At the 2 mile mark, there was a watering station. Fighting Nun had been carrying a water bottle for me and I felt getting water at the water station was an advanced maneuver so I demurred. Fighting Nun got a gatorade from the station, tried drinking it while running, failed and threw the drink away at the earliest possible trash can. At about the 2.5 mark, there was an overpass that winded me and took my pace down a little, but then I saw a crush of people at nearby walking bridge that signified that we were near the end. My daughter and my father-in-law were the only two people there for us at the end of the race, and I doubted very much to hear any cheering. But that's thing, everybody cheered for everybody. Before I stepped on the mat that timed us, they actually announced our names over the loud speaker and a huge cheer erupted from the crowd. I smiled and waved and was completely in awe. Thankful to be done, we kissed our daughter at the end, grabbed some water, fruit and cookies and made our way to the car. I was so thrilled to be done, to have completed the thing, to have been part of something bigger than myself. Hopefully I'll do it again.
**Warning: Boring running training information ahead. I went from running a mile in 14 minutes to running a mile in at around 10:30 . I went from thinking I was going to die after only a mile and a half to running just over three miles pretty gamely and easily. Before I started training, I was pretty convinced I'd be walking that last half-mile. Instead, I ran the whole thing, and I put in my personal best time to date!
I think a lot of that had to do with the experience and the cause for which I was running. I had never run a race before and I really had no idea what to expect. I just knew I needed to pick a race that was benefiting a charity I could get behind. So we found the Run Because You Can race. This race benefits the Runnin' For Rhett organization, which was founded by a family who lost their little boy in circumstances very similar to the way we lost Ukiah. How could I not get behind that? All of the decorations and race t-shirts were baby blue, like Ukiah's eyes. That's really all I needed to sign on.
The race itself was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. At first I was a little intimidated. When the hubbie and I run, it's by ourselves on a very deserted stretch of neighborhood. I'd never been in a mass of people like that, and I really didn't know how I'd manage running in a group. But everybody was cool. People who wanted to pass us did, people who were slower let us pass. I didn't find it intimidating at all. In fact, I felt a kind of confidence in numbers. All those people running around me buoyed me and made me feel confident in my abilities, motivating me. Also motivating? The bag-piper in a kilt. You guys know how I feel about kilts. I may or may not have made my feelings known about bag-pipers, but I'll briefly explain anyway. I think they are completely awesome! He was stationed at a turn in the first mile and he made me completely happy. That is he made me happy until I realized one of my shoes was fully untied and I was slipping out of my shoe and telling my husband that I had to stop and tie it was going to piss him off. And it did. I don't know why he was so bent out of shape though, because I spotted three other racers that had the same footwear problem, but oh well. After I got it tied, he put the hammer down pace wise, consciously or sub-consciously punishing me for not checking my shoes before the race.
Fighting Nun doesn't want to admit this about himself, but thanks to years of playing soccer, he feels this innate need to keep up with or pace the guy in front of him, which means he started going a lot faster than I'd ever gone with him. Until I successfully got him to pull back a little, it was a punishing pace. There was a kid, not more than thirteen that would put the pedal to metal, pass us, then walk and we'd pass him and then he'd starting running flat out again. I think my husband was trying to match that little pain in the ass's pace! At that point, I had no idea how far we had gone because I had forgotten the GPS watch at home and I knew I had to pace myself for the finish. At about the halfway mark, I heard a fellow racer say it was the halfway mark and I breathed a sigh of relief.
At the 2 mile mark, there was a watering station. Fighting Nun had been carrying a water bottle for me and I felt getting water at the water station was an advanced maneuver so I demurred. Fighting Nun got a gatorade from the station, tried drinking it while running, failed and threw the drink away at the earliest possible trash can. At about the 2.5 mark, there was an overpass that winded me and took my pace down a little, but then I saw a crush of people at nearby walking bridge that signified that we were near the end. My daughter and my father-in-law were the only two people there for us at the end of the race, and I doubted very much to hear any cheering. But that's thing, everybody cheered for everybody. Before I stepped on the mat that timed us, they actually announced our names over the loud speaker and a huge cheer erupted from the crowd. I smiled and waved and was completely in awe. Thankful to be done, we kissed our daughter at the end, grabbed some water, fruit and cookies and made our way to the car. I was so thrilled to be done, to have completed the thing, to have been part of something bigger than myself. Hopefully I'll do it again.
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