Sweet Beatz, Sweat Finish, Part III

(This post is a continuation of Part I and Part II)

I woke up nervous, and had fidgeted with the placement of my race number for 25 straight minutes in the mirror:

Take off the shirt, pin it on, put on the shirt Does that look crooked? Perhaps… Take off the shirt again, re-pin the number, put on the shirt again… wash, rinse, repeat.

It wasn’t too eventful, getting to the race. It wasn’t until I lined up for it when I realized Wow. I’m doing this. I hope I make it… It was the feeling you get in anticipation of going over the crest of the biggest hill on a rollercoaster.

I might throw up. I might throw up. Am I going to throw up?

I didn’t. After the gun went off, I didn’t think twice about throwing up. It was because of the music…

My nervousness slipped away while getting into my running groove. I listened to the sweet beatz of the Beatles and Jay-Z, DJ Danger Mouse and Lil Wayne, Rockapella and

Edward Sharpe…

“Oh, Lord. I’m coming home…”

I was pumped up by Shakira and her theme song for the World Cup 2010:

“The pressure’s on; you feel it
But you got it all; believe it
When you fall get up oh oh
And if you fall get up eh eh..”

Then “Wavin’ Flag” came on, by K’naan, and I thought of my students who I tell to never give up when things get tough:

“When I get older, I will be stronger.

They’ll call me freedom, just like a wavin’ flag…”

Then my body fell into gear as I heard Jackson Browne:

“Gotta do what you can just to keep your love alive,

Trying not to confuse it with what you do to survive…”

In fact, I found myself unconcerned with the miles I had ahead of me. I saw the each marker pass me: mile 2… mile 4…mile 6.55, halfway point…

“…Everyone I know, everywhere I go.

People need some reason to believe…”

You could say it was the opposite of nervous anxiety: peace. I can’t fail at this. I committed to it. My family is proud of me even if I don’t finish. I’m proud of me, even if I walk. More markers went past me…mile 8… mile 9…

“…I don’t know about anyone but me.

If it takes all night. That’ll be all right...”

I passed the marker for mile 10 and knew that, at this point, this was the furthest I’d run by myself in a single race… everything I was frightened about for so many months and this was it. Right here, right now. From now on, it was just me. I was getting tired. Dig deep, Natty, it’s all heart from here on out…

 “…Running on – Running on empty

Running on – Running blind

Running on – Running into the sun…”

I saw the finish line. I saw it and wished it to be nearer. I kept running. No stopping. I raised my finger in the air as my friend, waiting at the finish, took a photo of me at mile 13.02. We’re number one. I said to my brother and sister who had run that first full marathon race with me six years ago. Always.

I crossed the finish line in 2 hours, 21 minutes, 54 seconds.

After all of this:

I had climbed mountains, suffering fatigue. I had near heat exhaustion in New Orleans. I had coughed up pollution from China’s worst furnaces.

But, at the top of those mountains, I saw the breathtaking view. I had the joy of cool water on my face after running in NOLA heat. I proved courage to keep going through grit and grime.

I fell and bloodied my knees on the first day in my brand new home, but I got up to run a couple more miles.

When you’ve been through all of that, what’s the worst one 13.1 mile run can hand you on a beautifully sunny Sunday morning? The only card 13.1 miles has left to play on is the runner’s own fear of not knowing how he/she will get to the finish line.

On that morning, I handed that fear and anxiety right back to the half marathon, told it to keep it. I wouldn’t need it any longer. I finished the race.

I pushed away the fear,

I earned my finisher’s medal,

I kept on running…on…for me.

Enjoy some pictures:

Before the race!

Mile 13.02 - number one

Crossing the finish line!

Stay hydrated! The Champion Picture!

I fell on my face, and I'm 24 years old, Part II

(This is the second post in a 3 part series. Click Part I or Part III to read more...)

I started my training in China.

Yes, that’s right, China. If you didn’t already know, or are having trouble visualizing conditions in China in the summertime, here is a quick reminder.

Sometimes visibility was 400 feet.

Much to my chagrin, the first week I tried to run 30 minutes a time, the minimal number of minutes I had to run on my training schedule… I made it 10 minutes and started walking (something I never do—just a personal thing, I guess).

That’s it! This is ridiculous. I’ll never be able to do this by myself. I thought, very angry about my physical failure and inability to be mentally positive.

I suffered the first week, but the second week seemed better. I had moved out to the countryside to be a camp counselor for some American teenagers who were studying for a couple weeks in the summer. This is how much my scenery had changed.

I felt better, but it seemed I traded in the pollution for running up MOUNTAINS. I’m going to use all capital letters there… M.O.U.N.T.A.I.N.S. Running up a 1.5 miles of mountain-grade steepness? (by the way, that's 20 straight minutes of running uphill for me, fyi) Not the most encouraging thing I've ever done.

Woof. That was a hard two weeks, too.

After a debacle where I missed an international flight, had traveled 15,500miles in 10 days, I made it back to the US and went out for a run in New Orleans…in July. (Heat index 115 degrees F)

That…wasn’t the most fun I’ve ever had, either.

What is the deal ?! I thought that if I kept running, things would be easier ?! I was not amused by this situation of training for a month and still feeling awful after a 3 mile run.

Then… it only got worse: I drove to Connecticut, where new job was, and on the first day there… the first morning, at 7am, I decided to go for a run to get to know my neighborhood. What better way to see the town, right? WRONG.

It was 7am, I was trucking along the side of a road. I was confused about which way to turn and through a glitch in the Matrix… I BIT IT.

Fell down. Stopped outright. Kaput, onto my knees. Ouch.

There was blood.

There was pain.

There was ONE, SOLE CAR at the stop sign that watched this whole occurrence…

Well, embarrassment is a sobering experience. Oh yeah, what is this car doing up at 7am on a Sunday morning? Why couldn’t you have been asleep? Go back to bed!

I didn’t even look at this car, the driver, or anything. I got back up, wincing a bit, didn’t even take a good look at the wounds, and kept right on running…

That was like the touché - icing on the cake of terrible runs. It took me 40 minutes to run 3 miles on the hilly country roads and I got back completely a wreck. I laughed. I was that delirious. I laughed, but found what I’d been looking for in all of my terrible runs, all by my lonesome:

That…was a bad run. Flat out, BAD. Yet, I still got out there. I finished it. I didn’t quit; I didn’t let it stop me. I didn’t cry. I still racked up 3 measly (but powerful) miles.

I shook off my disappointment that I ran with a bad time and started giving myself credit for continuing to run after I fell down. I felt much better. I gained the confidence to continue on.

So, the new job started, I got stressed and started working more and more. I hardly noticed weeks going by until one week before the official race when I got food poisoning (oh, lentil soup). With my insides turned to liquid and my energy seeping out of my fingertips… (dramatic, I know), I had my doubts, after I had gained all that confidence.

To make a long story short, I was determined to start this half marathon; unsure of whether or not I could physically handle it. I had been dehydrated for the better part of a week; I couldn’t eat well or at all.

Then, race day came…

(Proceed to Part III)

The Fairy Tale, Part I

(This is the first installment in a 3 part post, click Part II or Part III to read on..) 


Fairy Tale Story Time:

Once upon a time, there was a young soccer player. She was dedicated to sports an team effort, but despite her drive, she was not one of the better players on the team. At this point, her older brother saw an opportunity. He, a strapping man about to have his first child with his new wife,  said, “Young sister, would you perhaps like to run a race with me?”

“What is a race? Running?” she replied.

“Yes, a running race. We can get our other sister to do it with us! It shall be fun.”

“What joy! Ok, I’m in,” the young soccer player said, unknowing of what she had just signed up to do.

“Promise to do it with me?”

“Promise.”

“Final answer?” he asked again, tentatively.

“Yes,” she said. “How long is the race?”

“26.2 miles.”

----

The rest is history.

Yes, I ran my first marathon just a few months after I turned 18. It was rough, fatiguing, made me sore, and was the most incredible experience of my life. I ran it with my brother and sister.

Since then, my running habits come in waves: Sometimes I’ll train for a bit and do a 10K on Thanksgiving, sometimes do the random 5K, I trained for a couple half marathons with my sister. “It’s what we do,” I figured, “bonding.”

This past year, with so much stress in moving to China, from China, into a new area, into a new job, and trying to stay sane through all of it, I needed something to keep me focused and give me some stability. Running would do it.

I signed up for the Westchester half marathon with a couple things plaguing me:

1)   Would I be able to train, all by myself? Without the support of others?

2)   Would I be too stressed to train at all?

3)   What happens on the days that I’m tired, where’s the motivation to run 6 miles when you’ve had 5 hours of sleep the night before?

4)   Would I be able to do it?

Some would think of me as a masochist (signing up and paying 50 bucks registration to put myself through the hell of running 13.1 miles). Personally, I like to refute the fact that I could be a masochist, and reply that I like challenges.

I didn’t know I could run 26.2 miles.

I didn’t know whether or not I could learn Chinese.

I didn’t know I would cry during Harry Potter VI ?!

                        Sometimes, though, one just needs to leap with neither regard nor consideration for how long the fall will be or how deep the water is at the bottom…

(Proceed to Part II)