Running

I'm looking around at all of these "runners" thinking to myself; I don't belong here. I'm trying to weasel my way into the popular crowd...with their expensive shoes and running clothes and gels and goos, with hats that absorb sweat and salt packets...it's a sub-culture and I still don't feel like a part of it. Most of the time, at running events, I am dressed too warm for the weather or I didn't dress in enough layers because it was fifty degrees outside at 5 am. I don't sleep enough the night before an activity and I have a hard time listening to music while I run because it throws off my pacing. I always have to stop to use the restroom at least once and sometimes, when it's really hot out, I have to keep from vomiting. It's probably close to heatstroke. I'm never hydrated enough, I eat the wrong things the night before and mentally, by the time I am prepared, the race is usually winding down. I prefer to run with friends or in a group and I have been told that I am the chronic "wet blanket" of the group. So, the question remains, why do I continue to run now that I've accomplished my original goal of completing a marathon; why do I continue to subject myself to the rigors of a sport that my body struggles to play?

The alarm clock went off at 3 am yesterday morning and, not being a morning person anyway, I was doubly annoyed. I had gone to bed at 11 and although I don't remember, I'm sure it took me awhile to fall asleep. I got up, ate my Cheerios, took a shower and then I drove in the pitch black, almost an hour so that I could arrive two hours before the race even started. Tired, cold, hungry and needing to pee, I climbed onto the school bus that would take us up 6 miles into the San Bernadino mountains where the race would begin. When we de-boarded, I waited almost an hour, I stretched, I ate some jellybeans, drank some water and needed to pee again. Only this time, there were about 150 people ahead of me in line for the Port-O-potty's. I rolled my eyes and checked my jacket in at the "Baggage Claim" truck, thinking that I would just have to wait. I stretched some more and then I milled around until I was in the middle of the throng of assorted runners. It was then that I realized that I had forgotten sunblock or chapstick and looking up at the clear sky with the sun peeking over the mountain to the East, I thought, You're in deep shit Yvette. Good thing I remembered my hat, but, to no avail, not my sunglasses. I pretended to focus while I actually listened to other people's conversations and I am always surprised and even shocked by the kinds of things that people discuss prior to the start of a race. The four women to my left were talking to the fifth woman about how to combat the running "runs" which clearly the woman had as evidenced by the scowl on her face. The two guys on my left were talking about the next race that they were going to run because this was just a "short" one and the three or four guys in front of me were listening to this other guy talk about the girl that he was "banging" last night. I guess it's just part of the killing time factor in races because there is a lot of standing around. Before a race, we have to get there early so as not to miss the start, but that often includes an hour or more of just standing around shooting the shit, as clearly these runners were. I looked around at the fashions; knee high socks, skintight shorts hiding nothing, funny t-shirts with logos that I try to remember, but can't seem to very often. Yesterday's winner was "Run like a Mofo." I like that one, but my all time favorite was from the Vegas 1/2 marathon. On the front was printed, "If found on ground, please drag across finish line."
Classic and so very true, at least in my case. The hats are often great too, with people decorating them and addding little sayings and colors. Running fashion is eclectic and sometimes hilarious.

An announcement comes on the portable PA system that the race is about to start and everyone cheers, some jumping up and down to get the blood flowing, some hug one another and some butt heads, some high five and some start their IPODS or their watches. Most of us just stand there and brace ourselves for the mileage ahead. I close my eyes, breathe deeply and listen as the whistle sounds and... we're off.

The first two miles are always difficult for me. My body is warming up and adjusting to the terrain. I remind myself to breathe and to set my pace. I try to ignore the people passing me left and right and I constantly remind myself that at some point, I will pass many of them who didn't pace themselves properly. Around mile 3 I start to find my rhythm and I take a long drink of water. I move to the left as there is more shade there and I pull my hat down lower to brace for the next bout of intense sun that is coming at me 25 yards away. I look down at the ground, count my steps, listen to my breathing and it is here, almost to mile 4 that I find it. I don't or haven't hit a runner's high before so I don't know exactly what it feels like, but for me, around 3 1/2 until 10 are the best miles to run, regardless of the length of the race. 5-7 miles is an ideal distance for my body and it's taken me over two years to figure that out. So as I find my groove, I start to enjoy the pace and I begin to relax and to take in the running scenary. It's like when the captain turns off the Seatbelt sign and although you are still in a confined space, you have some autonomy and you can decide what you will do for the remainder of the flight. I look at the backs of people's heads, I listen to a guy in midnight blue belt out the lyrics to "Livin on a Prayer" and for a few minutes I sing along with him in my head, I look at the hills and the greenery of the mountains as we wind down the path that we had just gone up on the bus not two hours before. I listen to the sounds of shoes shuffling along and to the incessant chatter that is broken as people pass me and I catch words like "brace" and "cut" and "bank left" and "help." I smile, I acutally smile as I run these miles and, for me, for someone who never liked to run, that has made the experience worthwhile.

The first 6 miles of this course are the remnants of the winding tail end of the mountains so the course is faster than the average course. Runners come here to time qualify and to break their PR's (personal records). I look down at my watch at mile 3 and I see 27:02. 9 minute miles, I'm running nine minute miles. I normally run 12 minute miles I think, I'm going too fast, SLOW DOWN! But then I realize that gravity is doing most of the work for me so I go with it, knowing that I will slow down when the course flattens out and, I do. When I come up to mile 7, we are clearing the last hill and as I do, the sun hits me like the reflection off a mirror right in my eyes and the heat is intense. I breathe thinking that it won't be like this for long, there is always some shade on a course, something, but as I continue, mile 8, mile 9, mile 10, I'm struggling. I pass the thermometer on the left hand side next to the mile 10 sign and it reads 90. Something clicks in my head, I'm not drinking enough. I can feel it now that I know my body better. So, I gulp down some water and then I walk. For two minutes, I walk and I consume some more jellybeans and I drink some more water and then I start running again. After about 5 minutes, I feel better, but as I continue, I can see the heat start to rise off the pavement and this does something to me mentally. I start to feel like an egg frying on that pavement instead of just imagining that I am.

I pass the mile 11 sign and I see that I have slowed down. I'm back to 12 minutes again which is fine because my legs have hit the point where they feel like someone has inserted ten pound bags of flour in each one. This is normal for me and they will feel even heavier when I finish. I chug along and I think about my Yoga teacher, Doreen who always tells us to smile at least once during class each week, reminding us that we all walk the planet and we all share the same air and how nice it would be if we each took a minute to acknowledge others. I wave and smile at the officers who are sitting in their car on the corner and they wave back and yell "You're still smiling, way to go!" I see a city worker standing on another corner, clapping as we go by and I smile and say "Thanks" and I see some kids, trying to pick up the cups that have been discarded from the water stops as the hundreds of runners go by. "Thanks" I yell to them and they smile and one of them says, "You're doing great!" The moments when people give me this kind of encouragement does more for me mentally than anything else during a race or an event. It motivates me, but, even more than that, it makes me feel like a part of something bigger; something that we are all a part of. Them and me, me and them; symbiosis in the 90 degree heat on an early Saturday morning. The activity binds us, even for a short time.

I'm in my head for mile 12 and I can see the Finish line when I cross the 12 sign and it is here that my body finds that last effort. It doesn't want to; it's tired and angry and hot and frustrated and the banner looks so far away, but it is here that I think about why I came out here in the first place, why it means so much to me. I set out to accomplish something and every time I cross the line, I do. It's as simple as that, set a goal, run, finish, goal met. Simple, but never easy, at least not for me. There are spectators in bigger groups starting at mile 12 and continuing on to the end so I encourage them so that they will help me. I smile and wave and thank them for coming out and they shout nice things, "Almost there" "Way to go" "You can do it" and, once again, it helps.

I have to admit, my favorite part of any race, even though I haven't been running that long, is the approach to the finish, about 50 feet away, not the finish itself, that's kind of anti-climactic, at least for me. I put my hands up and yell "Yes" and I cross and there's a guy standing there and he says "Way to go Yvette!" and I'm not even wondering how this yokel knows my name, but I realize later, it's printed on my bib. He smiled and it made me laugh, it was a good feeling. I walk over to one of the ladies holding the medals and I bow my head, as if I'm getting knighted and she puts the medal around my neck and says "Congratulations!" and it's done. Well, the running is done. Now comes the hardest part, the recovery. As I sit here and type this, my body feels slightly broken and the only way that I could sleep last night or, at least, get to sleep, was to drink too much wine and to take Advil. Today has been a different monster though, a running hangover; my calves and my lower back hurt and I am pink from sunburn and my ear aches and those are just the lighter maladies. I feel a bit like someone took me apart and when they put me back together, they left out the few parts, like joints and tendons that kind of hold everything together. This is normal for me, but it's never pleasant. I had to wear sandals today because I had difficulty bending down to tie my shoes. As I sit, my back is barking at me to go and lie down and I'm afraid that I'm going to have to sleep with my pregnancy pillow to help alleviate some of the pressure. I love that pregnancy pillow. It's like the third wheel in our bed these days... It will take a few days to recover and then, I will run again and, it will hurt, but the pain will be a reminder that I'm not 16 anymore and that if I continue to make such demands on my body, that I'd better give it enough preparation and enough time to recover or it's going to be angry, like it is today.

I do get a runner's high. It might not be that euphoria that runners describe when they hit a certain pace or stride or distance. It might not be that feeling that keeps you wanting to keep going or to come back and do it again. It might not even be the relaxed feeling of knowing that I am doing something great for my body by exercising on a regular basis. It might not even be the intense joy that I feel when I reach the Finish line because I do, every time. Instead, it might just be a high that comes from realizing your own personal potential; like graduating from college or finding the "right" person. I never could have imagined the past two years as they've been in my "running" life because I never imagined having a "running" life. Now, I can't imagine my life without it.

I sat in my dining room, two and a half years ago, holding the phone, talking to a woman who worked for AIDS Project Los Angeles and all I had to do was decide if I wanted to sign up for their marathon training program as a way to raise funds for an organization that I hold very close to my heart. Just sign up she said, you won't regret it. But, I thought, but this and but that and but 8 months of training and but I don't like to run and but I'm overweight and but I can't drive to Griffith park every Sunday morning and but, but, but,

"Yes" I said, "I'll do it." And, now, two marathons and other races later, I am a changed person, from the outside in.
I run because I can and for now, that's enough. Tomorrow there might be another reason, but today, right now, that's enough.