Friday, August 25, 2017

A story of Love and Abandonment on the Road

Out on the open highway no less. This Is a tale of two cities, two races, and three athletes. I'm really not sure where to begin, because it doesn't really have a beginning or an end, unlike some of the races that I've run. This is a continuing saga of the good variety.

You wouldn't necessarily know from the title, but this is a running story. Now, before I've got you thinking that I sound too egocentric, I must say, that running in my opinion, has always been about the individual. It's fun to run with your friends and family, but when you get right down to it, you're all alone out there every time. Some days you feel better than others. Some days you're destined to have life changing experiences. And that's exactly what happened to me in the last couple of months when I ran a marathon and half marathon without really training so much.
(Or more like not at all.)

At the age of 52 I felt like I should be able to just get up and run it because I've done it for most of my life. In as much as I haven't run a marathon in about 10 years, I was able to forget how painful it really is. Amazingly to myself, I was able to do it and finish the races, but barely:) Luckily, I had the good fortune in the first race,  The Big Sur International Marathon in April, to run into a very beautiful and vivacious young lady at the starting line, right before the race. Without her knowing it at the time,  (I have told her since) she is the inspiration that helped me start the race with excited anticipation rather than fear, and finish the race that day with pride and pain.

We started off great, with our little run/walk routine as we had planned in the moments prior to the race. About eight miles in, I told her to leave me because I was holding her back. Although she didn't train so much either, she is much younger than I am, so I'll take any excuse I can get.

A few miles later, as an ambulance went by me I couldnt have known that it was on the way to see her. She had tripped and torn her ligaments in her ankle right as she approached the Bixby Bridge at Mile 13.

After lying in pain on the ground for a few minutes and calling off the ambulance, she got up and proceeded to finish the race. Another 13 miles! Unbelievable. Now I say she inspired me at the beginning of the race and that's true, but I had no idea that she had gotten up and finished the race after her injury until the race was over. All I can remember from that second half of the race myself is wishing I could just stop, jump over the fence, and lie down in the green grass next to the ocean in the warm California sunshine.

But each time I waivered, the thought of having to tell this younger woman that this older man had to quit was just more than I could handle. And so I pushed on, cramps and all, finishing strong in just under the allotted time. I felt great! Vindicated, and young. Thank you Lindsay.


Now the story of the second race is eerily similar to the first in that I met another beautiful younger woman, only this time, a few days prior to the start of the race.



Although she had no plans to run the San Francisco half marathon when we met and neither did I, after talking for a while on the train we decided maybe that would be a fun idea. (I must admit there was a fairly strong attraction developing as we rolled down the coast on tbe Amtrak, which may have inspired me to commit to doing another crazy distance race without proper training). Well, anyway, two weeks later,
there we were, banditing our way into the San Francisco race with media passes, busting the gate right before the Golden Gate Bridge, acting just like we belonged there.

Maybe a half a mile in , as we began to cross the bridge, my dear Fiona tripped over an orange traffic cone and tore the ligaments in her ankle. I couldn't believe it. Am I bad luck?


Watch the disturbing clip of Fiona going down HERE

After peeling her off the cement and watching her hobble around for 10 or 20 seconds she insisted on going on and proceeded to run ahead of me and finish the rest of the race with a torn ankle.

As if marathons aren't already painful enough, this to me was astonishing.


Once again, alone for the finish of this race, I was left to my own thoughts of "who knows what you think while you're running" quite honestly, and somehow I missed the turnoff for the half marathon finish. After running several more miles, wondering where it was, figuring out I had gone the wrong way, and then turning around and running back, I was extremely happy to find Fiona standing on the street corner waiting diligently for me, freezing, and wrapped in a survival blanket, but looking very beautiful all the same.

Marathon sweat is a beautiful thing.

We finished it off with a beer and a burger and we made plans to do it all over again once we recover. Because that's what we do.

So, what were my life changing experiences you ask? Well I remembered that love can push you on. I also learned that fear of embarrassment can push you on. But mostly I think I'm just happy to get back into long distance running again at my age and realize I don't have to do it for time anymore, I can just head out there, enjoy the people and enjoy the road and enjoy myself and then revel in the accomplishment. We runners do a lot for a medal and a t-shirt.  It's a fun way to spend a weekend, and you get to eat a lot of great food afterward. Ciao.

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