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February 03, 2005

running to stand still (with apologies to U2)

wednesday was blurred by tears. the days following were blurred by speed. occasionally, moments and memories would collapse in on me, but i was spared the persistence of painful reflection by the steady barrage of events and crises in the days after Julie's death. their immediacy and weight demanded a focus and energy that provided a distraction that i immediately and unquestioningly embraced.

so, when sunday morning arrived, i awoke at 4:45AM, just as eager to immerse myself in running my first half-marathon, the 3M half-marathon.

the night before, i had parked my car near the finish line, with post-race clothing and supplies packed and waiting for myself and the three other runners that have become my teammates.

morgan and i had dinner at china buffet, which is most likely not endorsed, encouraged, or even envisioned as a rational decision for a pre-race meal by runner's world magazine.

morgan ran me home, where i allowed myself to be anxious and excited, to worry and obsess about the handful of things i needed to get done. i filled my exciting new gu energy gel flask that had accompanied my exciting uber-cool new gu energy gel flask holster. i washed my socks. i pulled out my running shorts, and the red nike short-sleeve shirt, and spent a half-hour trying to get my number perfectly centered, level, and pinned to the front of my shirt. i trimmed down, sealed in plastic, and pinned Julie's picture above the number.

it was still dark when Janay and Katy picked me up, Janay as atomic-clock punctual as you'd expect her to be, if you knew her. my cats, accustomed though they are to my erratic and inexplicable behavior, watched me quietly with a mixture of bemusement and concern at where i could possibly be going at 5:30 in the morning.

we parked at the movie theater, waited for Tiffany to join us, and then we shivered across the parking lot to the starting area. quickly, one of my worst reservations about the race was confirmed - the same braying hickoid announcer that had annoyed so skillfully and completely at both the race for the cure and the turkey trot had once again been given, or had taken by force, control of the public address system. the cold morning air crackled with nonsensical, endless monologue; shuddered and threatened to collapse under the sheer weight of stupidity.

the hour before the race stretched to our breaking points. despite our efforts to get and stay warm, the moist cold air (44 degrees, 89% humidity) encroached, breached the defenses of our high-tech clothing, and began to soak down through us.

ten weeks of disciplined and structured training taught me many things, but the most important to me was bladder management. i woke up early specifically to allow for the hydration/accumulation/release cycle to sufficiently run its course. in the hour waiting for the start, i made two well-spaced trips to the porta-potty.

we waited in the crowd, as light began to defeat night. the national anthem was sung. some woman next to me was sucking down coffee and talking about how she had declined to stand at some event in support of the troops in iraq. bitch.

our governor/insurance company lackey p.rick perry made his usual "here i am appearing but not actually participating" appearance, and i wonder how it could be that ashlee simpson could be booed by 70,000 fans for being a lousy singer, and this guy doesn't get stoned to death?

the starting gun went off, and so did we, Tiffany and i in front, Janay and Katy close behind. immediately, in the first half-mile, the pressure of the crowd around us began to dissipate, but another pressure began to rise.

again, with the having to pee.

the first restroom stop wasn't until mile six, which at that point was, let's see, almost six miles away. there was no way, already being cold and wet, that this was going to work.

all along the road to our right, men were turned away from us, facing the woods, resolving their issues right damned there. Tiffany told me i had to do the same, but i wouldn't... i couldn't. i get the stage fright. on the other hand, my bladder was really starting to hurt.

then, i saw a woman dash out of the woods, through the patches of men. she was either cognitively challenged and had already gotten lost, had been distracted by and chased a squirrel, or she, too, had found her answer in the forest.

her audacity and confidence (they have to "hunker", you know) gave me courage, and i went for it, dashing in deeper than others, leaping bushes and ducking branches until i got to a spot that shielded me almost not at all from the runners on the street. a brief moment of doubt and bashfulness, and i returned to the earth what was rightfully hers.

i exploded back onto the street, jubilant not only in relief, but in the exhiliration of conquering fear and urination's axis of evil and oppression. i put on speed, and caught up to my team, my arms raised in the first victory we would know that day, and i exclaimed to all that i had, indeed, peed in the woods!

that elation became tempered somewhat by the realization that i still had to run about 12 miles. there was also the issue of the blisters already developing on my arches from the brand-new shoes (my 3rd new pair to try in a week).

we pressed on. quickly, we saw supporters, people with signs, people with cowbells, a group of people with feather boas, all braving the weather to cheer on their friends and/or the runners in general. we waved and thanked them. i felt a charge every time, i felt lighter and more determined, and it was difficult not to pick up the pace when we had cheerleaders. my female teammates seemd to react particularly well to the six or seven young firemen standing outside the firehouse just past mile four.

at a couple of points on the course, there were bagpipers in full kilted regalia. i do love me some bagpipe music. a man offered us donuts, and i think it may be one of a handful of times in my life where a donut did not strike me as a particularly good idea.

my teammates had friends and family out on the course, too. Katy and Janay were visibly lifted by seeing their husbands and kids out there, the young children probably shocked at the coincidence and weirdness of running into mommy on some random street.

i got used to the blisters, but i was taking a bit more pounding from the shoes than i've been used to. my ankles started to hurt, and my muscles were generally trying to tighten up. but my teammates kept me going, kept me laughing, and as hard as it got, there was no thought of not finishing.

i had Julie, too, that small rectangle of space over my heart a little warmer, her smile beaming out and shielding me. i would feel that warmth, think of her, sometimes talk quietly to her, and the run, the effort, the challenge, fell into perspective, and oddly became a sort of joy.

i did have my moment of doubt - by mile 10, i was struggling, both physically and mentally. but the course began a very slight downward grade down the drag in front of the ut campus, and Katy was ready to pick up the pace. we took our last shots of gu, and began to lengthen our stride.

coming out of the 12th mile, we were really moving, and i was working to keep up with Katy. i was pounding up the last uphill, less than a mile from the finish, and i told her to go and do what she could do, and she began to pull away from me. i crested the hill and let my legs go, let gravity carry me down the hill, faster and faster.

i rounded the corner, about a hundred yards from the finish line, and the crowds were there, and i knew it was over, and i broke into full sprint across the finish. Katy, who had finished 16 seconds ahead of me, cheered me through, and we high-fived shortly before i dropped into a heaving, sweaty crouch beside her to wait for Janay and Tiffany.

as i waited, struggling to breathe, fatigue and the excitement of accomplishment must have combined, gotten to me somehow. wednesday and the days since, and all that they meant, all the feelings deferred, seemed to finally catch up with me, but rather than crashing into me, they came gently and quietly, in tears that flowed smoothly and warmly on a cold, overcast january day.

Posted by Rob at February 3, 2005 12:21 PM

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Posted by: shahnaz at February 4, 2005 10:01 AM

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