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!