Welcoming 4,000 TNT participants at the PreRace Pasta PartyWednesday, June 3, 2009
Return to San Diego
After a night of tossing and turning, I watched the time change to 3:45 a.m. and let the alarm ring so my mentee, Sue, would hear it and wake up. She hadn't slept well either and reluctantly got out of bed. We started the scramble to pack on the race gear. Fuel, check. Body Glide, check. horrible coffee, check. We took the bus with tinted green ambiance light (calming affect?!?) to the Race Start on Palm Avenue. Sitting on wet grass, wrapped in garbage bags for warmth, our teammates gathered, a big ball of energy buzzing in excitment. After having waited 20 minutes for a discusting portopotty visit, another 5 minutes to check in my finishline gear, a banana and 8 ounces of water, the gun went off, and we were off!
My mentees, Sue and Christine ran with me and my pace buddy Alison for the first 6 miles, through Hillcrest, with the crazy TNT queens, Balboa Park by the Zoo, and through downtown, past Petco Park and the Symphony Towers, where I worked as a File Clerk in a Law Firm on the 24th floor 5 years ago. I was feeling pretty good, my knee that bothered me a few weeks ago was silent, and it wasn't until around mile 9, on the 163 highway that I felt like I was pushing myself. Banking back and forth, the 163 was rough, there was no flat spot, so we tried to run in the gutters on either side of the road, but there really was no avoiding the slope. This lasted for about a 3 mile stretch till be were able to "exit" the highway via an onramp. Once on Friars Road, starting a little after mile 11, I was exercising verbal power, talking to myself in my head, pushing and pulling with each step. I remember being shocked at how long the distance between mile 12 and the 20k marker were. It seemed so far! Maybe it was the straightness of the last two miles, maybe it was the lack of bands on this, the rock'n'roll marathon, or perhaps it was the overcast, misty day, I was beginning to struggle. At some point, while I was thinking the same thought, Alison asked, "it's gotta be coming up now, right?" I was too exhausted and broken down to respond, but she heard me loud and clear. Our paces accelerated...both glancing at our watches, we notice we could actually make it under out goal! The last few hundred meters we gave it all we had, and wrapped up the 13.1 in 2:26:29. Another race in the books!
We made it out unscathed, though the 163 did a number on my ankle. My hamestrings are tight as rubberbands, my back sore from constant posture correction, and my ribs are tender from the breathing. But my spirit is soaring. I may not be a fast runner and I very likely will never be at the top of my age group. I race because I am able to push myself to places I never thought I could go. When I race, I race my best self.
My mentees, Sue and Christine ran with me and my pace buddy Alison for the first 6 miles, through Hillcrest, with the crazy TNT queens, Balboa Park by the Zoo, and through downtown, past Petco Park and the Symphony Towers, where I worked as a File Clerk in a Law Firm on the 24th floor 5 years ago. I was feeling pretty good, my knee that bothered me a few weeks ago was silent, and it wasn't until around mile 9, on the 163 highway that I felt like I was pushing myself. Banking back and forth, the 163 was rough, there was no flat spot, so we tried to run in the gutters on either side of the road, but there really was no avoiding the slope. This lasted for about a 3 mile stretch till be were able to "exit" the highway via an onramp. Once on Friars Road, starting a little after mile 11, I was exercising verbal power, talking to myself in my head, pushing and pulling with each step. I remember being shocked at how long the distance between mile 12 and the 20k marker were. It seemed so far! Maybe it was the straightness of the last two miles, maybe it was the lack of bands on this, the rock'n'roll marathon, or perhaps it was the overcast, misty day, I was beginning to struggle. At some point, while I was thinking the same thought, Alison asked, "it's gotta be coming up now, right?" I was too exhausted and broken down to respond, but she heard me loud and clear. Our paces accelerated...both glancing at our watches, we notice we could actually make it under out goal! The last few hundred meters we gave it all we had, and wrapped up the 13.1 in 2:26:29. Another race in the books!
We made it out unscathed, though the 163 did a number on my ankle. My hamestrings are tight as rubberbands, my back sore from constant posture correction, and my ribs are tender from the breathing. But my spirit is soaring. I may not be a fast runner and I very likely will never be at the top of my age group. I race because I am able to push myself to places I never thought I could go. When I race, I race my best self.
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