Hollywood Half Marathon, Hollywood, California, April 7, 2012

Cool Inaugural Medal for this Race!!

Number 48 (a prose poem, if you will)

Early morning: Hollywood Half
with my beautiful cousin, Nurse Michelle!

Hi there dear followers of Mikie Marathoner.  I had decided I would provide you with a visual and auditory experience for race #48.  I knew that a couple of my friends (Shelly and Mona) are completely illiterate and they have been deprived of the opportunity to read about my adventures on the running circuit.  So, today, I wrote a prose poem about the Hollywood Half Marathon and WAS going to post it by way of video but the darn file is toooo big.  I am providing a picture of my disguise, though. 

You may ask, why was I wearing the fake glasses, eye brows and mustache (actually, the nose is mine).  Well, I have had a devilish time with the paparazzi.  Sooooo I decided to don the aforementioned so that no one would bother me as I attempted to read my poem to you in Garrison Keillor style (if the video idea had worked).

Before I begin, I must tell you that I am accustomed to a more Spartan running environment when I am running these races, that is, I prefer to run alone.  Yet, today, I had the ecstatic and yet unholy coincidence of running with my much younger and much more beautiful cousin, Michelle Moshy.  Now I must inform you that Michelle and I do not like each other very much.  Just because she went to USC, she has several times suggested, with radiant scorn and preferably in large and disgustingly appreciative company (i.e. my other cousins) that MY education at THE University of California was let’s say, less rigorous than her education.  But, of course, I shan’t say a word, not a word to reinforce this notion other than the fact that it is a pity that so many USC graduates end up shoveling dirt on the plethora of freeway projects in this Golden State. Apparently, you see, the UC grads design and RUN the projects!!! 

Awwww, I feel splendid after saying all that. Yet, I think it is now time for my poem.

THE POEM: (Imagine Garrison Keillor delivery)

Today, there is a cool northwesterly wind blowing.

I join 5,000 runners piled up in the starting corrals huddled closer than they might like, to stay warm.
The path ahead of us is deserted, just how the front runners like it.

The pavement gives off a strange sheen from the lights above…. It is 6am.

Tinsel Town welcomes our shoe prints yet we will leave no impressions like the Hollywood Stars.

The barest essentials, air and physical strength, will allow months of preparation to test themselves.

As we start our race (my cousin Michelle is by my side) we leave Universal Studios and I imagine the countless Stars that have walked along this route who have disappeared forever.

I sense I will not consider them much once my cadence and stride rhythm are introduced to the unforgiving Hollywood Boulevard.

The pain will only make me wish I knew a famous one to pick me up in their limo. I will ignore that pain.

As I ran, I kept a keen eye for a misplaced roll of cash or a string of pearls that may have been left behind by a star after a glitzy evening.

I found solace in knowing my identity was masked by my Groucho nose, glasses and mustache to keep the paparazzi away.

I reluctantly ran (not walked) down the famous Hollywood Walk of Fame.
It seemed so sacrilegious to run upon it.
I did my best to read a portion of the 2,464 Stars without tripping to the pavement.
I looked for Betty White’s star…… wondering if I will live as long.

The race ending had us trying to conquer a 4-5% two mile climb portion of Hollywood Blvd.

Billy Crystal would have had nothing nice to say as I finished race number 48.

Yet I suspect that Billy has not attempted to play a role like mine as it may have caused him too much pain and the salary is so meager.

Post race was a photo shoot with my cousin and her friend, Becky.

I wore my classy Hollywood Star Medal with pride.
But the Paparazzi were relentless so we had to leave.
Yet the Easter weekend was fulfilling and refreshing as I hobble back to colorful Colorado.

Prayer List:  Miles 1-4:   My son, Cameron who had 10 inches of his colon removed this last week due to a case of diverticulitis and a small hole in his colon. It came upon him suddenly.  He will be convalescing for 4-6 weeks.  Miles 5-6: Stacy Rivera, my co-worker. Stacy is negoiating the adoption maze and has run into some of the ups and downs of the process.  Miles: 7-9: Marcia Bickel as she seeks appropriate services for her disabled sister in Iowa.  Miles 10-13: Pastor Chuck Smith as he continues to improve as he beats back cancer in his lung.