Rollercoaster

It slows to a stop in front of you. You carefully step in, pull down the safety bar and sit back with nervous excitement. Your breathing which you hadn’t noticed before now draws your attention. Your chest starts to echo with the increasing thump of a drum beat that started in the distance and now moves towards you at a pace you cannot control. Each breath you take seems to call the beat closer, stronger. Your brain says “get out” but your body doesn’t budge. The coaster begins to move, slowly at first as if to say that everything is going to be alright. You feel alone even though you’re surrounded by people. You look for an encouraging smile but it’s not there. Everyone is in their own world. The coaster is moving up the steep incline now, laboring hard is if it might not make it. All you hear is the sound of the chain as it pulls the machine upward…clink clink clink clink …As the coaster reaches the pinnacle, you slowly close your eyes, take a deep breath, grab the bar and hold on.

The Portland Half Marathon felt like that. Not just the race, but the entire trip - from the moment I left to the day I came back. To be clear, it was a great race for me. I ran well, lived (always a plus for any race), and recorded my fastest half. The trip however reminded me just how much life has changed. I got to spend time with my son Taylor and realized that he’s moving into adulthood without me. Sure we talk on the phone when I can somehow get more than three words out of him but seeing him was different. Somehow I began to feel that he doesn’t need me. That’s stupid of course because I have so much more to teach him. Granted he’s well beyond learning critical things like armpit farts - a staple for every kid and something I find necessary to teach everyone under the age of five. He is becoming his own man and while I’m proud of him, I wasn’t ready for his level of independence.

My sister Andrea who I haven’t seen in years came to Portland to surprise mom. Laughing with her took me back to being kids. We visited and were as silly as ever. I’m so glad she came. I hadn’t seen mom since she started dialysis. She’s had a rough time with it, enduring too many surgeries but at the same time maintaining her outlook and determination to work the whole thing into her daily schedule. I sat there looking at her and Stan and wondered if I was in the same position would I show the same strength or piss and moan. Yeah, probably the latter unfortunately. Is it me or do older people get a little weird? My stepfather Stan who stands around 6’6 keeps a yardstick behind the bathroom door. Why? So if he runs out of toilet paper he can grab the stick and knock a fresh role down from the top shelf. He doesn’t want to stand up at that point apparently. I thought about replacing the yard stick with a ruler without telling him – sort of a surprise. I didn’t.

The rest of the Seattle gang arrived Saturday. The ride down had been entertaining and I admit once we got together I felt a little on the outside. Nothing they did and likely a carryover from the previous day’s experiences. We hit the Expo and went to dinner. Eventually landing at the hotel and room arrangements were made to the satisfaction of most. Evening plans passed through a blender and I was in bed by 8:30. We were to depart at 5:45am to walk to the start line which was a 25 minute walk or so, with the race starting at 7:00. Some overslept and needed to leave later. I couldn’t, I had to go. I told myself it was because I’d been up since 4:00 and had done everything I could to get my pre-race poop moving but had no luck. Figuring the walk would produce the desired results I left the hotel at 5:50. It was likely that it was my inflexibility that required me to leave but blaming it on poop seems a good attempt at redirection. By the way, the walk didn’t help. I ran ‘heavy’. I was then cursed with 24 hours of stomach cramps that came and went on their own schedule.

Most were running the marathon and a few of us the half. We were in different starting corrals which made it impossible at that point to hang together and wish each other luck. We all had someone but we didn’t have each other. Hollywood was with me, preparing to run her first half. She ran with me for about 4 miles and then settled into her own pace. I had set my mind on a pace that would deliver a PR (personal record). Soon it became the only thing in my head. I saw runners but paid no mind to them. The sea of spectators were faceless bodies waiting to cheer on their runner. I was ahead of pace by mile 9. I began to feel like crap. I knew I was pushing myself and had not hit a pace like this before. The next 4 miles are hard to describe. If I slowed I would miss my goal and honestly the effort in the first 9 miles would have been a waste. I wandered in and out of clarity and my pace reflected it, I was all over the board. Mile 13 was the longest mile I can remember. I swear my iPod played 5 songs yet I ran it in slightly over 8 minutes. Rounded a corner and saw the signs that registered in my mind, only 3 blocks to go. I saw the time clock as I crossed and officially had hit my mark. I now stood trying to catch my breath and ready to celebrate. Where were my friends? I hadn’t thought about it but with those doing the marathon and me being the fastest ‘halfer’, I would finish before everyone else. I gave myself mental high five and was feeling a little cocky until the first wave of stomach cramps arrived to remind me I was human.

I hung out in the recovery area which was near the finish line waiting for friendly faces. Soon they began to roll in and make their way to the recovery fuel. I was impressed with our group of runners. Everyone finished and for many it was their first attempt at the distance they ran. Some crossed the finish line in better shape than others. I always feel like I will puke and wonder if so much life oozed out of me in the final miles that I may not fully recover. Sharon needed help, having run the marathon under conditions that most of us would have quit, grabbed a cab and hit the hotel for a shower, her struggle at the finish line was hard to see. She has never quit and this time was no exception. I was proud of her. I will omit the scene when a medical attendant put her arm around Sharon to see if she needed help and all that was left of her was a small mushroom cloud. Clearly she didn’t know that what Sharon needs at that moment is space not touching. Then again, how would she? Dan and I helped her through the maze of people and eventually we hobbled back to the hotel. Most jumped in cars and headed back to Seattle. The Giant (Kyle) rode home with me. The Giant is 22 and stands tall….very tall. He quickly fell asleep and woke a couple hours later. He was beat, having run his first marathon. I listened to him talking to his parents and friends about his achievement. His excitement was so pure, so honest that I couldn’t help but have a smile on my face.

I had a hard weekend emotionally and physically. At times I wanted to be alone. Other times I needed a ray of sunshine. I was hard to read and didn’t always care what anyone thought. I do care. I’m done racing for the year. I will focus on healing until 2012. God willing I will run a lot next year and since I have reason to believe that God is a runner, I’m sure the big guy will help me out. In fact I’m sure He already has in ways I don’t even know cause that’s how he rolls. Life moves forward. Kids get older. Parents sadly do as well. Life happens. Embrace it all and settle only for what you deserve, not the plate others may have set for you. Be better to others and give without expectation - I know those who do this and admire each and every one of them. I wish I had some strong wise statement to make to close this bog but I don’t. I will simply say this – Thank you.