Notes
Just. F-ing. AWESOME!!
(Beyond all the strength, and the coolness, and the amazing positivity of this whole experience, never, EVER forget that this race was run with a significant injury, ZERO training for the two weeks before, and the very real possibility for me throughout that I'd not reach the Finish, at least not without paramedic help - That's the success and inspiration of Surftown for me personally and how I will hopefully recall this point in time as an athlete, when the lessons of the past and the fearlessness toward the future came together as something Heroic. Everything else is just the icing on the cake...)
After the painful surprise of two Sundays ago and the tenacity of the sprain that's pretty much hobbled me since, the last two weeks have been a very open-minded time. I've kept my zen about me, and waited without expectation for any healing that might indicate my Surftown chances, but concrete signs of progress have been elusive, even after I've reluctantly resumed taking Ibuprofen this past Wednesday to help things along. And also even with M, herself dealing with a nagging hamstring issue for weeks, getting the go-ahead from her PT Jeremy and growing excited for a gorgeous course, I now fall even further behind psychologically - I'd (almost) rather shoot myself in the head than miss this inaugural opportunity with our own locals in our own backyard, but is it worth risking a "DNF" and the runner's shame that goes with it? Hope is failing... Working Saturday with Jim, I know I've waited as long as possible and so prepare myself for a cautious walk/run out to the end of Foote, if even just to rule out any chance for Sunday... Within a few yards of a truly ugly, awkward shuffle, however, it dawns on me that I don't hurt running like I have walking these past weeks, and, with EXTREME slowness and gentleness, I not only make the end of the street, but continue on through the swamp and even on down to the Buckingham Street loop and back - I'm wearing a solid shit-eating grin as I walk the "Victory" stretch on home, but, still with no expectations, it's hard not to feel the hope flowing back in...
Sunday morning arrives quickly, and after a FULL banana/soy milk shake (my first major success of the day) M and I, and with a groggy but supportive Laina, head out and reach the Misquamicut Beach parking lot right around 7:15AM, and are moving a fair ways to the back of the Starting Line crowd by 7:25AM. Chris Tingley, a co-worker of M's from The Clipper, joins us for his first Half Marathon, and we take off after the gun together - It becomes apparent quickly, however, that I'm not up to their speed, and I respect my limits and keep to the pace that worked for me on yesterday's jaunt around the block. Perhaps the most interesting part of this first leg, though, is the view from and feel of the very back of the pack - the elderly, the overweight, and the least "Runner" of all the runners - and it's an unexpectedly humbling yet empowering sensation. In some ways I almost feel like I'm slumming, but appreciating the sense of being outside the herd with these folks takes so much of the early stress out of the usual racing experience, and it definitely helps me to focus on maintaining my own soft momentum... By perhaps the third mile or so, that momentum is wanting to pick up steam, and I do have to reel myself in with concerns of further injury, but it's still amazing to feel my body rising to the occasion of the race (thanks perhaps to the ibuprofen, adrenaline, endorphins, or a mixture of all three.) I'm still going slowly but strongly through Miles 6 and 7, comfortably cruising past L at the run's halfway mark, but it is the Watch Hill leg, around Miles 10 and 11, which brings it all together - With so little of the race left, and with a still-building sense of power and speed, I realize finally that a Finish is within my grasp, and even that I have extra juice within to begin overtaking many of those ahead of me... And that's how I spend the last miles of Surftown, either in inspired BF conversation (as with the Hawaiian-shirt wearing minimalist from Texas) or alone and mighty, picking up my pace on what quickly becomes familiar "Fun Run" ground and pulling ahead of literally DOZENS of my fellow runners who were by those points fading fast. As the last few corners come and go, and the last pair of tenths of a mile, I feel a sense of pride and accomplishment unparalleled in my life or running history, and the sight of the Finish Line chute brings with it an Epicness that is humbling beyond measure. I cannot stop thanking my feet and body for what they have pulled out of their conditioning (because I certainly haven't given them the "training" of late that the official plans and programs say I should have) and the very real presence of my red-haired warrior Lady, running alongside me for so many solitary points, leaves me with a gratitude and love beyond measure. The deafening roar of the crowds, and even faint recollection of hearing my "barefoot"-noted name as I hit the end strong, lead me quickly to M, my girl, waiting proudly with Laina just within the crowded corridor, and a welcome and deserved celebration. The rest of our time there, walking out of the Finish area and towards the food/awards tents, and ultimately to the car to leave, is simply a congratulatory dream (even the traffic warden on the bullhorn stops mid-sentence to quietly ask how my feet are!) and a testament to the power that focus, wisdom, softness, and patience can bring. Just a fine day, and the rebirth of something awesome...!
(And, in another huge lesson learned, I even start and stop Gar properly, although next time I'll have to remember to raise my arms up ABOVE my bib number when I'm passing the Finish Line cameras...!)