The following is a timeline of my participation in today's Rock 'n' Roll San Diego Half-Marathon Relay. Some times are exact and some are approximate:
4:17am - I awake with a combined sense of urgency and excitement. It's race day, the day for which I've been training for six months. Three minutes later I realize my relay partner, Karen Madden, had set my cell phone alarm just in case. The message on the screen: "Wake up, bitch!"
4:57 - Some people eat bananas on race day. Forget that. I eat Strawberry Pop Tarts.
5:20 - I have ten minutes to walk down the cul de sac and cross the street before the 11 bus to downtown arrives. I've lightly stretched but realize halfway down I didn't stretch my back extensively. Walking briskly without fully stretching is a no-no for me.
6:45 - After many delays and proving that last year's ineptitude was no fluke, City Transit takes me on a trolley, then a shuttle, then another trolley just to get to Fashion Valley Mall.
7:18 - There are no signs anywhere indicating where at Fashion the relay transition zone is located. But a nice store employee who has let me in to use the restroom points the way.
8:55 - I walked way too fast up the hill to reach Friars Road because K-Mad was texting saying she was getting closer. So as I waited I continually stretched and then was thrilled to see, in succession, Krystal DiStefano, Alison Glabe, Nina "Peanut" Tarantino, and shortly thereafter, Katie Leisz.
8:57 - Karen arrives with Colleen McEniry in tow and I double fist-bump them. Ashley Schamu, a.k.a. Scham-Wow, is Colleen's relay partner so she's there too. Our co-worker Joslin Joseph takes a group picture and Karen admonishes me: "No stopping for chit-chats."
9:00 - I am off at 9 on the dot and two things surprise me: the crowd is cheering and the road is slanted, dipping east to west. Both have me walking much faster than I would prefer at the outset.
9:12 - It's sunny but with a Fresh, cool breeze, almost like an autumn day. This is good. The roads are very slanted and uneven and I can feel my left (good) leg is overcompensating, tightening up my lower back right muscles. This is bad. Very bad.
9:27 - The streets have flattened out and I'm in a better groove finally. I stop periodically to loosen the back and keep it stretched out. This helps, as does the DJ who has set up on the sidewalk to play energetic, fist--pumping music.
9:49 - A man runs up beside me and has his wife take a picture of us as we walk forward. A girl grabs my shoulder, snaps a picture as she speed-walks and says, "You're awesome." I respond, "You're hot."
10:17 - We are passing Morena Blvd. and again the road is sloping. This is making me walk awkwardly and my back tenses up.
10:31 - I am pleasantly surprised to see an old Access Center colleague, Sandra Mendez, running in her first marathon, plus people are seeing my Notre Dame mesh shorts and yelling, "Go Irish!" LIKE.
10:45 - My right leg, Black Max, is getting plenty of attention and cheers from runners and spectators alike. But I'm noticing that my prosthetic sock is slipping downwards from my hip, probably just caused by heat and duress. What this does is force me to stop, pull my hip up so my real leg is not sticking within the artificial one, and then take a few steps to settle back in. It's not painful but is annoying.
11:05 - I am getting doused in water by a team of volunteers in an area called "Margaritaville". They are blaring Jimmy Buffet music and, in true Parrot Head fashion, are regaled in Hawaiian shirts. I see Bruce and Patty Whitlow, parents of my friend Kimmy, and they give me a quick hug and word of encouragement.
11:12 - There is a concrete median and I see where runners have turned and are now walking opposite of my direction, as a loop. I am tempted to just cross that median. I'm sorry.
11:17 - I see two young ladies holding signs. One says: "Go Faster!" The other reads: "That's What She Said." I LOL.
11:20 - I am barely making that loop and, brother, I am hurting. My right hip feels strained. My left ankle feels wobbly, like I just want to roll over on it. Whereas I had been answering well-wishers with a clear-voiced "Thank You!", I now find it hard to breathe.
11:23 - This feels endless. We are near Mile 12 of the 13-mile course for relayists, but I feel spent. I can't...do...this. I'm not really walking...I'm...lurching forward.
11:25 - A lady is walking her dog near Sea World Drive and starts walking beside me. I nod politely. She then blurts out, "So...what the hell happened to you?" If Peanut were there, frankly, the lady would've been punched in the mouth.
11:27 - I'm not going to make it. I just want to quit. An elderly man rides up next to me on his bicycle and asks if he can escort me part of the way. Sure, why not? I see he has two small American flags on his bike so I say, "Hey, man, what are you gonna do with an extra flag?" He replies, "Nothing, man, you want one?" I say Yeah and so if you see pictures of me waving a flag, that's how I got it.
11:29 - Good friend Trina, as is her custom, waits at the beginning of the final mile and brings forth many cheers and camera-clicks. Suddenly I feel good. Exhausted but motivated. I can load up for one last stretch.
11:31 - Two volunteers ask if they can walk with me. One equally worn out walker sees me, starts crying, and just gives a thumbs up. I think about how blessed I am to live in the greatest country in the world and how here no dream or goal is absurd or unattainable.
11:34 - The thought strikes me that a race course is America. Runners and walkers, complete strangers, exhorting each other - black, white, Latino, Asian, gay, straight, disabled, non-disabled, men, women, old, young. This is Americans at their finest.
11:35 - The Finish Line is a few feet away and the dual emcees remember me from last year, I think. The female one is prepared with some dance moves so I respond by shaking my thang.
11:37 - I see my main Ollie Neglerio from Competitor Group - the awesome company who puts these races on - and he takes official pictures of my Finish Line routine. Swing, shimmy, point to the heavens, shake the torso, half-spin, point like Justin Timberlake.
11:40 - I officially cross the line, probably figuratively and literally, and my buddy Colleen McDonald stops filming my dancing and places a medal over my neck. She has been a great friend since graduate school at USF and I'll always treasure this great memory, especially when our other close friend, Jonathan Sandoval, completed the full maraathon just a few minutes later.
We did it. We scratched and clawed and trained and prayed and fought through adversity and we did it. I used to laugh at marathon runners because they looked so miserable but now I get it. It's the sheer challenge of putting your body through that and emerging victorious. It's never giving up and never giving in. It's the American way.
Anyone can do it and everyone should try it. I believe so strongly in that, I'm working on a book about it. Keep your eyes peeled for that. But this isn't about shameless self-promoting, it's about reaching deep down and gutting your way to a triumph.
A marathon is just like life. It requires discipline, heart, tenacity, preparation, desire, and the will to not give up. Don't ever give up.
We did it. And so can you.
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