Now I Just Smell Drunk

Sterile dirt. Why would I feel clean just because apparently now the dirt on my hand is sterile? I don't buy it. And when I tell people that, they just look confused. I am not sure how.

From as far back as I can remember - and though I can barely remember what I did yesterday, my youth is quite vivid - I have been taught one way to be clean. Wash. After romping around in the garden, climbing trees and sabotaging anteaters' traps, the first thing we were ordered to do was wash up. After using the bathroom, the first question would always be, "Did you wash your hands?" And, thus, I have been completely brainwashed. When feeling dirty, wash your hands and washing includes water.

Now, however, a lot of those around me are all about the anti-bacterial gels and at times I am sucked into this realm. When my mom came to visit me last year, I was concerned about the germs that she might pick up, having to hold onto stair rails because of her bad knees. So I handed her a bottle of anti bacterial gel to carry in her bag. She looked at me like I had lost my mind and went to wash her hands. And I don't even know why I suggested it because my hands never feel clean after I have used the gel. And people tell me that the germs are dead. Maybe, but the dirt is still on my hands.

And so, I won't even go on about how there are fears that all these anti-bacterial products will make us a little like the boy in the bubble; unable to fight against any bacterial diseases. I won't talk about how it seems to be a huge selling point - even dishwashing soap contains anti-bacterial hand wash. All me Old School, but all I shall say to you is that, even after using the anti-bacterial gel, when I wash my hands, do you know what comes off as I rinse? DIRT. And you know how my hands feel after I have washed off the dirt with water? CLEAN.

New Knees Please!!!

Looking good, huh? Looking like it doesn't hurt one bit, right? That's me at mile 26.1 and that's called acting (and adrenaline). But I'm getting ahead of myself. It all started early on Sunday morning. The alarm went off at 5:30 am but I am not sure I really slept all night. I hopped out of bed and started using the Bodyglide - all the better to reduce chaffing. It was then on with the clothes that had been laid out the night before and collecting all the gear. After my usual 15 minute stretch I drove out to the start line with DC and HiDef. DC dropped us off and HiDef told me lies to calm me down:
"Don't worry, it won't get hot until after 2pm"
"Knees, Shnees. They won't hurt one bit."
"Who? That woman who won the gold medal at the Olympics? Of course you'll leave her in the dust."

I wasn't afraid to be dead nervous - my mom told me that the adrenalin would carry me through the long miles. I found the pace maker that had been recommended, based on my training times and my lack of marathon experience, and settled into the 4:45 team. I turned on my Ipod and we were off. I was feeling good and I was determined to stick with my group, which meant pushing around people on the crowded streets in order to keep them within sight. And of course, as soon as we set off, I needed to use the bathroom.

Pretty much all I could think about through mile 10 was how I needed to use the bathroom. I hoped that i would dehydrate until I didn't need to go or that my thoughts would be occupied by other pains and I would forget that I needed to go. All this was not helped by the bathroom signs every mile and the rows of guys on the sides of the street, easily and happily going. Afraid that I would skimp on much needed hydration out of fear of peeing on myself, I gave in at mile 10. Fortunately, very few people needed to go at that mile and so I was delayed only briefly and the short stop actually gave my knees a little relief.

And then I was off again. It took two miles to catch up with my pace team but at least my mind was clear. I trundled along, trying to take in the scenery. We ran through many neighbourhoods, and past several schools and through a park or two. I knew that I would not be interested in walking after the race so I tried to take it in when I wasn't making my way around other runners or trying to keep my eye on the pacer.

I had my name on my shirt and, can I tell you, hearing my name being shouted enthusiastically by amazing supporters was like a shot of energy. I gleefully thanked them and had a smile on my face for at least half a mile after their encouragement. I gave some high fives to people lining the sides of the street. Regardless of the pain, this was going to be a good time. And it was. good and painful. I passed the halfway mark and said to myself - yup, a half marathon is definitely doable. I got to mile 15 and thought - wow, this marathon is really long. It didn't help me one bit, after 16 miles, to be told that I had a little over two hours to go. It all seemed so far away. But I could do this. I spent my Saturday mornings running around in circles, around the park, for hours on end. I could do this.

At mile 18 I started talking to myself inside my head, telling myself that I did 8 mile runs, no problem. That is all I had to do now. An 8 mile run. At mile 20, my mind started drifting on the regular. I would be with my pace team and then it would be like I blinked and they were suddenly far ahead and I had to speed up to catch up. At times I felt as though my brain and my legs were not connected. My brain was telling my legs to do one thing but my legs were on their own trip.

Did I mention that I started feeling hot? I made an effort to have a little to drink every mile. I ran through water from fire hydrants that had been opened on the route. I ran past supporters who sprayed water on us. But I told myself it was not so bad - HiDef had told me it wouldn't get hot until later, and he wouldn't lie to me, now would he? Then I ran past a bank. On the display above it I read "98". It was then that I knew that I had lost my mind and I must trust nothing. I must just focus on drinking water and finishing the race.

Just before mile 26 a woman running next to me grabbed her calf and dropped to the ground. Thankfully there were people in the crowd to help her. I say thankfully because I was sure then that I was running purely on fumes. If I stopped moving I might not start again. So I kept on going. UP HILL. I mean seriously, were they trying to break my spirit? Why are you going to put an up hill at mile 26? I was trying to decide whether or not I had the energy to get mad about this when I rounded the corner and saw the finish line.

My legs found new life. All pain and hallucinations were forgotten. I spotted HiDef and called out his name. I waved as he took a couple of photos. Then I focused on the finish and powered through the line!

And stopped dead. Yep, me and everyone else around me. It is like you have enough for 26.2 and that's it. No running for 26.3. no siree. We're done at 26.2. They tempted us to walk forward slowly with free beer. I grabbed my beer and took a great gulp. And thought - hmmm, is beer a good idea when super thirsty after a long run with nothing in the stomach?
And I took another gulp of beer and tucked a bottle under my arm - for psychological support.

Of course I got lost on my way to the tent to get my stuff. But there HiDef was there to pick me up, get me booked for a massage and give me the congratulatory kiss. And the marathon folk were there to give me a medal (which I am still carrying around in my handbag, like an amulet with secret powers). HiDef also confessed to all the pre-race lies he had told me. Especially the weather one. I was running in 85 degree weather.

And, for all the pain and hallucinations, I loved it. I loved the support and I loved the challenge. I have a new respect for marathoners. An awe for those who do it on the regular. I have my magic medal in my bag. And my next race will be a half marathon.

And for all the

Remember Me?

Hey there!
Remember the bear?

so yeah, a year and a week ago there was some resetting that needed to be done. but now we are back on track and like the bionic man, i am better than i was before: better, stronger, faster. okay okay, maybe not faster, but inspired and focused to run further and that ought to count for something. i have also been waking up at 5am, getting up and running, and for the epitome of the not-a-morning-person that i am, that amazes even me. can the bionic man claim that, huh? i mean, okay so you can see things miles away and lift a car with one hand but how does that compare to being proud of the pieces of you that are rubbed raw during a long run? okay so you would finish the marathon in less than ten minutes but can you take an ice bath, 6 million dollar man? well you think about that as i go from the encouragement my mother gave me for walking all the way from the kitchen to the front door of my new york apartment (which can probably fit in the living room of a regular living space) to crossing the finish line after making it 26.2 miles around Chicago. yeah, you really think about and ask yourself - is bionic all they talked it up to be?