13.1 my “running” dialog at the Latin Music Miami Beach Half Marathon
Mile 1. I feel good. Wish I'd taken a moment to look at the race route to avoid surprises.
Mile 2. So far so good. Must pace myself. I’ve still got 11 POINT ONE to go.
Mile 3. Is that a bridge? Ah, no worries. I love bridges.
Mile 4. What the hell was that bridge all about? Loved the view of the ocean though.
Mile 5. Ah, look at that gaggle of women dressed from head to toe as "Carmen Miranda." Maracas and everything. I wonder how long before I find their whimsy annoying.
Mile 6. Hold the hell up! ANOTHER bridge?
Mile 7. Waving at my brother-in-law’s band Pee Wee Lewis and the Hues on the sideline. Pretending that I’m not dying after that bridge run. Didn't even notice the ocean on this one but I was amazed by the amount of interesting things people lose along the side of the road. A shoe. A CD. An ID card. A sock. Must have belonged with the shoe?
Mile 8. Ha. That’s funny. My iShuffle is playing “If you steal my sunshine” and it’s raining! Hard. And sideways. Sunshine stolen!
Mile 9. Sweet group of ladies from FIU’s running team waving and cheering us on. How AWESOME! Now why didn’t any of them think to warn us about the UPCOMING BRIDGE!
Mile 10. I do a little mental check to make sure I am still ok. Heads, shoulders, knees and toes - and lungs. I’m good, I can do this.
Mile 11. No, no I cannot do this. That 3rd bridge leveled me. I am questioning whether this will be the first race I just quit. I trot (yes TROT, running is for winners) by a cop and he says to me, “Come on, you’re almost there, finish STRONG.” I sneer at him. “No. I will NOT finish strong, I will finish WEAK!” He is Cuban and from Miami, he is unfazed by my emotional and honest outburst.
Mile 12. I approach one of the elite runners that finished the race and is now jogging back to Mile 12 to check on the rest of us. “Please tell me there are no more bridges.” He gives me a sad face and says, “There is one more and it almost killed me.” I nod. I now convince myself that he was kidding about the bridge. Mental note: suggest to race organizers that bridges be denoted on race maps with a skull and cross bones.
Mile 13. He wasn’t kidding about the bridge. If it wasn’t for the honking, the sounds of the cruise ships on our right, the wind pushing on our faces, you would be able to hear a pin drop on this Miami morning. All the runners were in deep thought. I wondered what they were thinking about. If they questioned what they wore that day. Yeah, I’m talking about that poor guy in the biker shorts. Ouch. The sweat had made his once black shorts transparent and you could see his stuff. And those “Carmen Miranda” ladies, I’m sure it seemed like a great idea to load yourself with head gear and ruffles for a race but on Mile 13 you were ready to beat the crap out of your friends with your maracas.
Once I fluttered down from the bridge. Yes, it was a flutter, I could hear a strange sound behind me. Suddenly, running along side me was Sarah Reinertsen. The single leg amputee and ultra athlete was now running next to me in her spatula prostetic. I was able to get out some words and said to her, “You’re amazing.” To which she quickly corrected, “We’re ALL amazing.”
Point 1: Humbled. Not because the 13.1 showed me who is boss. I don’t have much of an ego when it comes to these things. Humbled by Sarah’s comment, by the flood of humanity in different shapes and sizes and fitness levels that made their way out to this race on a glorious Sunday morning in Miami Beach. Humbled by the countless parents and teams of family and friends pushing their children in strollers that were currently fighting and WINNING their battles against cancer. Humbled that in a world that I find so much fault in, today I just saw perfection.
It is amazing what happens when good people get together to do good thing for others.
I do not know what to do about the problems of the world or what ails our society, but I am pretty sure if we can convince people to get out and participate in more events that are simply about making life a little easier for our fellow human – we’d have this entire humanity thing all wrapped up!
Thank you St. Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital for all you do for our precious families!
And another thanks goes out to my niece, Iliana, for being at the sidelines at so many of our races. Seeing her cheery face almost makes me want to die a little less. And to my husband, Eric, who constantly challenges me and, for reasons even I do not understand, always believes in me. How can you quit on yourself when you've got that sort of support?!?
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