San Diego Rock N Roll Marathon: Rocked it? (Part I)

I used to think I was a person who couldn't do things.  Back in NYC, there was once a time when I thought I couldn't change my life.  But then I did.  Not so long ago, there was also a time when I thought I couldn't run.  But then I did.  There was even a short time, after witnessing the brief life of Maya, when I thought I couldn't get another dog.  But then I did.  Three short years ago, I thought I couldn't run a half marathon.  But then I did (and have done it 3 more times since).  Two short years ago, I thought I couldn't run a marathon.  But then I did (and now have 2 more times since).  I could go on and on about all the things I once thought I couldn't do, and then did.  The point is that I've proven myself wrong enough times, that now I find myself believing that I am a person who can do things.

But there's one problem with becoming a person who believes that you can do things.  When there comes a time that you don't do what you've set out to do, the disappointment is deep and biting.  Because you know the only thing that held you back from accomplishing what you wanted was yourself.

I'm not saying that I am in any way disappointed by my performance in the San Diego Rock N Roll Marathon...but I'm a little torn.  I'm torn between being elated with my PR of 10 minutes, putting me at a 4:18:43 marathon time (if you had asked me if I could have done that after I ran my first marathon, I would have laughed in your face) and feeling that I quite simply could have done better.

In order to explain these mixed feelings, let's chronologically relive my 4 day weekend in San Diego.

Friday


Erica picked me up at 6:00am to get to the airport to make our Team flight to San Diego.  Because I fundraised for LLS for this race, my flights and hotel were booked for me by Team in Training.  These were group reservations that included all the members of my team that were running or walking either the half or full marathon in San Diego.

We arrived in San Diego around 10:30, were shuttled to the Grand Manchester Hyatt in downtown San Diego, which looked like this:

Yep, both towers.  Easily one of the nicest,
biggest hotels I've ever stayed in.

From there, we went to the Race Expo to pick up our race packets.

Yay, happy pre-race excited faces!

The expo was filled with a ton of vendors wanting to sell me stuff I absolutely didn't need.  But we did stop by the Team in Training display, which included a wall that was quickly filling with signatures.  This was the first time that the thought occurred to me that this race was not about me.

Signatures of hope, joy, thanks, dedication,
and sadness--for cancer patients, survivors,
and lost loved ones.

After picking up our packets, we made use of our free tickets to Sea World (given to us with our race registration by the Rock N Roll group).  This was my first time in San Diego, and therefore my first experience at Sea World.  I was unprepared for the the Disney-like theatricality of all of the shows, but I still got to see lots of cute animals and take about 100 pictures to show my kids at school today, as promised before I left.  

Hi inquisitive dolphin, you are super cute.  I almost got to
touch you, but not quite.

Then after a tasty Mexican dinner that quite unfortunately did not include any margaritas due to my "no alcohol for a week before race day" rule, we went back to the hotel and fell fairly quickly off to sleep.

Saturday

I had hoped to see a little bit more of San Diego on Saturday, but unfortunately after a leisurely brunch and a fairly restrictive schedule that included a 3:30 team meeting, and 5:30 "Inspirational Dinner," I didn't see much beyond the hotel pool.  Turns out, I didn't mind this so much.

No, we didn't particularly appreciate those clouds on Saturday,
but on race day, we definitely did.

At our 3:30 team meeting, we listened to some last minute details from our coaches and team organizers and took a group picture.

This is just about everyone from the Washington/Alaska
chapter of Team in Training that ran in San Diego.

During this meeting was the second time it occurred to me that this race was not about me.  I met a few other teammates that I hadn't met yet, heard a few more stories, and watched as one of my coaches, Nadine, whose father had passed away after a long battle the Thursday before, stood strongly before us, there to support us on our mission to play our part in ensuring no one else lost their dads too.

And then we went to our Inspiration Dinner, where it hit me full in the face that this race was NOT ABOUT ME.  There were 2,500 participants who raised money for LLS running in San Diego (an LLS sponsored race).  Upon entering the conference center, all 2,500 participants walked through a long column of mentors, captains, coaches, and organizers cheering them on, reminding them of the money they had raised and the challenge they bravely faced.  I have walked through one of these cheering red carpet lines before, but this time, as a mentor, I got to be a part of the cheering squad.  And let me tell you, I found this perspective to be more inspirational than walking through on my own.  I got to watch each face that passed by--the uncontrollable smiles, the tears, the anguish and joy in people's hearts as they remembered why they were doing this, how far they had come and faced their final meal before one of the biggest challenges they've ever put before themselves.

The energy is apparent.  The emotion is palpable.  I'd be
lying if I said I didn't tear up a few times.

After standing there cheering for an hour, with a hoarse voice and tired hands, I didn't want to complain.  Because this was not about me.  This was about them.  Those people I raised $3,075 for.  Those people who also fundraised.  Those people who were running their first half or full marathon.  Those people who were doing it again, because this is what matters.  It was about those people who have watched friends and family members go through the horrors of cancer and cancer treatment.  Those people who have watched their loved ones go into remission and come out with success stories to tell.  Like Darren, who I've trained with all season, who has been in remission for several years and ran his 2nd marathon on Sunday, with his wife by his side running her first half marathon.  It was about those people whose lives cancer has taken.  Like Heather, Erica's sister who passed away 3 years ago leaving behind her parents, sisters, 2 sons, and husband.  Like Siona, a 6 year girl who passed away New Year's Day 2 years ago, whose father and friends ran in her honor on Sunday.  Like Nadine's dad Tom, who had so recently lost his battle.  Like my grandmother, who I never met, who my mother barely knew after she passed away when my mom was 3.  This was not about me.  This was about them, about the cause, about finding a cure.  Because mothers need their daughters and sons need their fathers and brothers need their sisters and no one should have to watch this happen to anyone they love.

Once inside the Inspiration Dinner, we listened to the CEO of LLS tell us that we San Diego runners had raised over $7 million for our cause.  We listened to John "The Penguin" Bingham run through his oft-repeated, but endlessly funny running jokes.  We listened to a man tell the story of his cancer, his treatment, and his thanks for everything we have done to help him survive.  We ate pasta, we celebrated ourselves and our teammates, we cheered, we cried.  Several times in my Team in Training career, I've joked and heard others joke about the somewhat "cult-ish" nature of TNT.  If it's a cult, it's one I certainly don't mind being a part of.

When dinner was over, we went back to the hotel to decorate our race day shirts.  Supplied with permanent markers, puffy paints, googley eyes, and glue, we plastered our purple TNT race day shirts with the names and symbols of those we were running for.  Here's my end result:

I got a special "rock star" shirt because I
raised $1000 over my minimum requirement.

I left my shirt fairly simple.  Every shirt I've raced in has said that I'm going the distance in honor the "The Fam," because without my family I would not be doing this.  My family is everything to me, and if something I'm doing today can help somebody in the far off future, I am going to keep doing everything I can.  The butterfly is for Erica's sister Heather, and the purple and green ribbons we made for Nadine's dad Tom--one for everyone on the team so we could run for him and for Nadine.  There are other names I could have written, but for this race, these people were most prevalent on my mind, so I left it simply with them.

After shirt decorating, it was time for bed.  Time to toss and turn and pretend to sleep.  I only got about 5 hours of sleep that night, but I slept soundly. I fell asleep with the thought in my mind that this race was not about me.  It wasn't about my time, my goals, my pain that I knew I would inevitably feel in the final miles.  It was about everyone else.  I fell asleep knowing that with that thought in mind, I could make it through any challenges the next day would bring.

GO TEAM.