Short Update on the Flying Pig
Marathon I just finished -
Ah, marathoning - the aches, the
pains, the illogicalness of the perceived logic of it all. Why do
we put ourselves through 13.1 or 26.2 miles? Is it to get a cool
Tee Shirt? Perhaps a pressed circular piece of metal with a barely
distinguishable emblem with the name of the event on it? Perhaps
its because when the pain subsides we feel really good. In the case
of TNTers many do it because an endurance event is on their life
list of things to do (number 16 on mine, right behind retiring on a
beach somewhere and just before competing in the Nathan Hotdog
eating contest.) More TNTers, however, have a altruistic reason
and find coupling their life list with a Team event is a good way to
check off number 16 AND help fight blood cancers. We have a friend,
family member, a 6-degree of separation acquaintance that we want to
support and help out. Awesome thing to do and you guys are all on
my best people on earth list.
In my case it is because my cycling
buddy was diagnosed two years ago and I not happy. I am equally
unhappy that my Uncle was diagnosed a year ago and is making peace
and amends with his life as cancer slowly takes him. I get even
more unhappy when I hear of young people dying now - a 16 year old a
few days ago, a 13 year old 2 years ago, a 32 year a month ago. The
madness has to stop.
I had already done a full marathon
before the Team, so number 16 was checked off (I was in fact working
on number 17). I'm here because cancer has been here too long and
it must be stopped, and Steve, my friend, has two kids he needs to
see grow up some more. Most of you have a reason to be here and I
should have asked more about why you are here over the weeks we have
been training, because I do care why and I, as do all us coaches,
TNT Staff and Mentors, do care about stopping that bastard cancer
before it takes too many more of innocent people that we know or
have never met.
So, I find myself scheduling multiple
endurance events each year to wear my purple jersey and to provide a
real valid excuse to hit up my friends and colleagues for donations
to LLS. I'll run or swim or bike ax-number of miles if you all will
make a small donation. Its worked, even as I collect for my next
round of events - Half IronMan, Century Bike Ride, Nike Marathon,
Full IronMan. I find folks who use me as an avenue to get out the
credit card and log in to the LLS website and fill in the blanks.
They are an awesome bunch of people having given better than $30k so
far.
This past weekend was my 6 marathon
since October 2006 - The Flying Pig in Cincinnati. As morning
slept, I hopped a cab over to Reds Stadium to find my place in the
corrals. There I was huddled up with some of the best mid-pack
age-grouper Northern Kentucky and Southern Ohio had to offer. We
mingle and chat about our last event or that this is their first
event. 6am nears and we ready ourselves to wait another 10 minutes
after the starting gun to actually move. But wait, there is a
delay. Something ablaze near mile 20 so the fire department asks us
to delay a little. OK, since they asked...20 minutes later the gun
sounds and 6 minutes later I start my gps unit as I cross the
starting line - off like a herd of flying pigs we go.
Around Riverfront Stadium, looping
through a mass of cheering people who don't know me, and 1/2 mile I
spot the first group of TNT supporters yelling "thank you" and
cheering me on. 1 mile in, right on schedule I need one of those
3x3 blue-green things. OK, quick stop and again I'm off like a herd
of those flying things.
Feeling good and ready, I start to
pick up the pace and push it a little just to see what I have, then
we start up hill....wait a minute, there wasn't to be any uphill
until near mile 6 or so. Oh well, I'm good. Then we go down,
cruise some flat, and then up again, then a long slow down, then a
long slow up, then a quick up, then a quick down, then another long
slow up, and.....well you catch my drift. Many more hills than I
thought there would be. At some point near mile 2 I must again
partake in the rowed 3x3s...this time it takes 10 minutes before I'm
off again. Such is life.
OK, so I'm going up and then I'm going
down, but it is a beautiful day in the neighborhood, the route is
awesome, the fans are great and around almost every corner I see TNT
fans cheering me on. Life is good and I'm mentally up yet.
Half way and I'm a little slower than
I want, 2:30 something, close enough, I cruise, more uphill, I slow
a little, downhill, the inside of my quads are starting to burn from
the downhills - should have ran Sabino or Tumamoc more. Next time
(its always "next time", but I never remember to do it.).
Somewhere near mile 16 I catch, catch
mind you, a guy in a shark suit running along, though he is getting
hot and tired - temps now near 70 and a matching humidity. Seems
like a good time to walk a bit and chat with a shark, I mean come
on...how many times can you say you've done that. I bid farewell
and keep on truck'n, as my Shuffle plays the Dead.
Mile 20 is here, the turning point of
the event, the make or break point. Once here, you have to finish,
its the law. In my case, it takes a lot of talking to myself - you
know cursing because you didn't train harder, whining because of the
hills, whimpering because your leg hurts....its called the "bit me"
stage of marathoning. You will all most certainly get there - a
coach will come up and ask how you are doing and you will go into a
very short but firm "fine!" with an even firmer look that shoots
daggers at the coach.
OK, past mile 20 and the route seems
to be mostly downhill from here, except for the short the stiff
uphills. OK, quads burning a little, more talking to myself....and
finally mile 24, the "almost down" spot. When you get to the last
couple miles of the event, half marathoners included, there is some
mental trigger that clicks and says OK, straighten up and look good
for the finish line and the cameras. Mostly you mentally see
yourself as actually seeing the finish line....its occasionally like
a mirage - you swear you can see the finish line balloon arch just
ahead of you. Logically, well, at mile 24 your logic is gone, so
logically you don't respond - your logic more or less nods, sort of
like a husbands knee-jerk response of "yes dear". You answer, but
you aren't really sure what the question was. Your mind is talking
but its not listening to itself, and your legs dutifully just keep
moving forward.
Now, I can see the mile 25 marker and
I'm all of a sudden deciding that I need to pick up the pace, to no
less than 8 minute miles for about 3/4 miles. Why you ask, who the
heck knows, but the mind decided it needed to be done and the mind
is still not listening to itself so doesn't know any better and the
legs are still just following orders, and well, then I see the
'finish swine". Ah, the mind says, we are almost there, I'll bet if
we ran faster we would be done faster, still no logical reply from
the mind, and still the legs are just listening and moving, so off I
go for some half-ass delirious sprint to the finish line. First I
pass some lady with her 6 year old running next to her. Then I
cruise past some guy with his 6 year old son. I smile cause I know
I have beaten them....the mind still doesn't understand its a 6 year
old and the accomplishment is pretty minimal.
Ta Da.....I am done, where is the
food, where is the water, where am I? In 10 or 15 minutes the
reality sets in again. I'm hungry, I want a beer and I remember
that cancer is still here. I haven't run for nothing, I raised
nearly $2000 toward my fundraising minimum for Nike in October. But
my Uncle is still dying and my friend Steve is still starting chemo
and others are still struggling. As I walk the mile and a half back
to my hotel room, I think about my next event, in 2 weeks, and hope
this one will do more than the last one.
I know that each and every event that
each and every Team in Training participant does, regardless of
their motives, does a tremendous amount of good and inches us closer
to stopping a cancer, but part of me can't help but wonder that if I
did more it would get us closer. So I trudge on in honor of my
Uncle Garry and support of my friend Steve.
Well, there you have my run. It was
indeed a good one with lots of fan support and I highly recommend it
to those of you who get sucked into the endurance event vortex of
life.
