Race Number 58
I was born, raised and educated in
Southern California. In Fourth grade, at Palm Desert Elementary School, we
studied California history and geography. When anyone asks me what part of
California a particular city or event may be taking place, I can answer with
the confidence of Junipero Serra (for you non-Cali deviants, Father Serra was
the founder of the nine famous missions of California, which were the
first settlements of the Europeans in the California region).Yet, with all this extensive and deep knowledge of California geography, I DID NOT KNOW THAT THERE WAS A LOS ANGELES RIVER! Seriously!
So,
you can imagine the deep depression I sunk into when I realized that I was NOT
the perfect and all-knowing California historian that I had lead myself to
believe. This was a significant blow to my self-esteem and I wondered if I
would ever be allowed back into the Country of California (let's face it folks,
California should be its own country) and whether TSA would block me from
getting on the plane to attend my dear Uncle Joe's 90th birthday celebration as
well as my chance to run in the Los Angeles River Half Marathon! Notwithstnding,
I made it and did not have to prove my citizenship to my former place of
allegiance.
Uncle Joe's party was wonderful. He is
an amazing man and I love him and my Aunt Louise dearly. With both my Mom and
Dad gone, they are my Mom and Dad in so many ways. Actually, I think both of them
will probably out live me!
The
race was a low-budget race, yet flat, so that made it worth it. The LA River
flows through a concrete channel on a fixed course, which was built after a
series of devastating floods in the early 20th century. It is about 48 miles
long and comes down from the Simi Hills & the Santa Susana Mountains and empties into the Pacific
at Long Beach. I ran (i.e. jogged again) 13 miles of
it on a cool but pleasant Sunday morning. Like
my previous seven races, I did not train as hard as I use to, yet, nothing
started, nothing experienced, nothing finished. Starting lines are one of the most important
stations in life. We need not avoid them.
We need to seek them out. Lou
Holtz once said, “Ability is what you are capable of doing. Motivation is what
you do. Attitude determines how well you do it.” I have no ability, but I
do have motivation and a snarky attitude, so this was a fun race to run,
despite my waning ability.
Throughout
the race, I searched, with vinous determination, for a stray whiff of
oxygen for my beleaguered lungs. Running
at sea-level is sweetness to a Coloradan, but running 13.1 miles still requires
deep breathing and averting the rapid decomposing of your body. At the end of
the race, my feet were TROBBING!
Miles
9-13 were very difficult so I shamed myself out of walking some of it with a
hail of trash talk…… “Run you ‘pretty flower, pasty faced, wimpy excuse for a
man.’ You ‘light roast coffee with two sugars and loads of cream.’ Pick
it up, you CREAM PUFF! I succeeded and I ran theatrically over the finish line
with a huge, fake smile on my sweaty, agonized face!
At
the end of the race, I could hardly move. By the early afternoon, I could use
the shower and feed myself. My muscles
were groaning from the abuse, but I was thankful that I still had the strength
to shuffle down the concourse at the Bob Hope/Burbank airport to head home
late Sunday afternoon.
I am sure my colleagues at Platte River Academy will have little empathy for me
on Monday morning. Such is the life of a weekend
warrior!
Number
58 is in the books (and this blog) and Happy 90th Uncle Joe!
PS:
My sweetheart, Holly, was running concurrently with me as she competed in the
Rock-n-Roll Half in her hometown of San Antonio. She ran in pouring rain the
entire race. I ran in clear skies and 45-55 degrees. I guess God likes
Californians more...:-)
