Race Day

"Dreams come true. Without that possibility, nature would not incite us to have them." - John Updike

I knew the day would inevitably arrive. When the last few hours of doing next to nothing on Saturday afternoon started slipping away, I starting moving through my race rituals - getting organized, tying on my chip, packing a bag and heading for pasta dinner around 7 p.m. No cheese, no alcohol, early to bed. I wasn't worried about not waking up on time, even though I'm not an early riser. My alarm was set for 5 a.m. I woke up to look at the clock every 2 hours or so, and arose for good at 4:45 a.m. Fortunately, I had gotten a great night's rest on Friday long into Saturday morning, the most important sleep before a race.

When I got out of bed, I hopped in the shower to start my metabolism. I was going to need it without any coffee that morning. I wasn't rushed, and I wasn't nervous, especially with the start being right out my front door. I made a double portion of oatmeal with honey and pecans and ate a banana around 6 a.m. I covered every inch around my clothing with body glide. I drank 6 ounces of gatorade around 6:30 a.m. I checked the weather. Stretched a little. It was the least nervous I had ever felt the morning of a race, which reinforced my feeling of being prepared all week. I felt I trained as best I could, I tapered well, and had carbo-loaded and hydrated well for the past 3 days. Plus, I was ready to get this damn thing over with already. I was ready for my anxiety dreams about it to stop, I was ready to get my weekends back, I was ready to face the unknown.

I met my neighbor Suzanne in our lobby at 7:10 a.m., right about the time the bathroom nerves set in. Joy found us in the port-o-potty line and set out to find the bag check. No one around seemed to know where it was. When she found it, the lines were so long, she said there was no way we were going to make the start. Thankfully, Suzanne's friend offered to take them back to our lobby front desk guard.

We squeezed in a tight pack of bodies near the 9-minute mile section. I had on a sweatshirt and gloves to toss as I warmed up. Amazingly, we got over the start line in about 6 minutes. Joy and Suzanne both went out with more gusto than I wanted to spend. I had decided to listen to my body instead of trying to keep up with anyone for this race, so I waved them on. We also got to see each other later on which was a welcome inspiration.

I barely remember running down the Parkway or the beginning of the route. Suzanne dropped back to use a rest room. I remember tossing my gloves in Old City and heading down Columbus Boulevard into the sun. I later wished I had kept my gloves when my fingers were throbbing with cold, blue and swelling around mile 12 as if I had frostbite, though it wasn't nearly cold enough. I remember turning on Washington Avenue to Fourth Street, impressed to see so many neighbors on the corner, bundled, with coffee and thermoses in hand cheering before 9 a.m. on a Sunday morning.

I started my iPod around South Street - just to tune out some of the idle chatter around and to settle into my race. I was a little concerned that I had this goal not to stop, since I had stopped during my training runs frequently to hydrate, fuel, and use the restrooms along the way. Pre-race advice had come the day before that it would be harder to run again after stopping - MUCH HARDER - and that it would be better to run at a slow, slow pace - and ultimately faster - than to walk and start again. I decided I would let myself walk for no more than 30 seconds through the fuel stations, however. I had read this in Runners World and abided by it in every race I ran. And I would only walk if I felt at risk of a greater injury than not walking.

As we wound down Chestnut Street, more and more fans appeared on the street. Reading some of the motivational signs started to choke me up. Even the one that said, "Your feet hurt because you are kicking so much ass." Every song on my iPod started to choke me up. It started to feel real that I was actually doing this. I had showed up at the start line to see what would happen, and now I was doing it. (Even though Allstate had just reminded us on a big sign that we were only 15% there - yikes!)

Around Memorial Hall at mile 9, there were signs planted in the ground encouraging us up our "last hill." I later learned this was only true for the 1/2 marathoners, who veered off from the rest of the pack near the top. Then there was the further psyche-out of crossing mile 11 only to see another 11 mile marker further down the road - again, for the 1/2 marathoners, but not distinguished as such in any way I could tell (I didn't think the reds and blues had been consistent, either.)

I was feeling good by the half way point - around 2:20 - not far off my 1/2 marathon time. I was also looking forward to seeing the cheering fans around the art museum and Roy down the hill. It was elating to see Philly Runners signs and faces I didn't expect and hadn't seen for a while, since my group runs had become less frequent; as well as others who had come to cheer and spotted me, cheering with big smiles and excitement. But when I didn't see Roy outside my apartment, my heart sank. I was trying to refocus when I spotted a figure running down the hill on the sidewalk on the other side of the course, and it was Roy - running faster than me - and while he is a very athletic guy, he's not a runner. It filled me with joy as I ran to Manayunk.

Around mile 16 when I really started to feel the distance settling in, my meditation song came on and I did not let it go for the rest of the race. It is a beautiful chant to Govinda, protector of the land and the senses. It lasts 10:47, a little slower than my pace per mile at that point. I let go of my vision for a while. I let go of my thoughts. I focused on my breath. It moved me in total fixation until mile 18, at which time the disgusting taste of a vanilla Clif Shot shocked me out of my trance. I had been using chocolate outrage Gu previously, which I liked. Even the Clif Shot mocha was o.k. on mile 22. But never vanilla - never, ever again.

I was looking forward to mile 20 and the turnaround which would be homeward bound. It would also be longer than I had ever run in my life, and the spot of the proverbial wall. I had heard that anyone can run 20, it was the miles after this in the marathon that were the true test. But there was a lot to pay attention to in Manayunk to serve as a distraction from all of those thoughts. Though familiar, it was new running territory. Scenes and memories from another time flooded in. My friend Nora said she was going to be at Shurs Lane. I needed to pay attention to find it. Plus, we were passing other runners. I spotted familiar faces and Joy, who was so intense with her headphones on that she didn't see or hear me. When I saw Nora out there by herself on the corner with her ear muffs on and beaming, I kept smiling back and thanking her and didn't want to drop her supportive and happy gaze. At the top of the hill, there were restaurant smells and coffee shop smells, spilled beer smells, but best of all, banana pieces and orange slices. I ate everything I could consume. As I ran by Nora again, I shouted out that I felt pretty good and thought I was going to make it. Just saying it out loud made me believe it, too.

Not to say the last 5 miles were easy, by any means. Kelly Drive was lonely as we passed the tail of runners heading to Manayunk, and runners all around me started walking, some in crippling pain. Even though I felt o.k. physically and mentally, and stronger than I did at miles 16 - 19, I just wished I could make the end come sooner. Even though I run that stretch of Kelly Drive every week and knew exactly when I had 2.2 miles left to go - the end seemed unfathomably far away and indeterminable. Around the boathouses, the cheering picked up again - Kelly from Philly Runners in the isle, and then Roy again with his camera and a quick kiss before heading up the last hill to the finish line. Along that final stretch there were more friends cheering - I saw Joy and Suzanne and others who had come out to see me finish. I sprinted across the finish line, as I always do. I forgot to stop my watch, as I always do. I had my chip untied and was wrapped in mylar when Joy found me with bananas, and a yogurt drink from the depleted food tent. I felt absolutely delirious and chilled.

I walked to my apartment building, Roy and friends listening to my non-stop chatter and elation. I showered and quickly dried my hair so we could take a walk. After walking a bit, I kept hydrating, ate some pretzels, took some aspirin, and soaked in an ice cold tub for 15 minutes. Then iced and rested in the dark. Though tired, it was challenging to quiet my mind. Finally feeling hungry again around 5:30 p.m., we ate to celebrate, and I went to bed early, but with so much adrenaline and feeling in my body, I woke several times during sleep and early the next morning. The next day I spent stretching, hydrating, walking and enjoying the hard earned aches in my legs in my feet; relaxing in an airport doing nothing but writing this blog, sitting in a massage chair, waiting for my rescheduled flight to Atlanta for Thanksgiving with my family. Still feeling like a celebrity as knowing lookers-on ask how my race went. Some say the high lasts a week, a month, a lifetime. All I know right now is that I will see and know myself differently forever.