Teasers, Agitprop, and Funnies

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We're leaving tomorrow for our annual Christmas sojourn. For your entertainment I've plugged in the way-back machine and offer my marathon entry from 2005. I've been thinking lately how glad I am that I ran the marathon before getting pregnant. I won't be sure how helpful it will be until I give birth, but knowing that I could finish a marathon somehow makes me feel a little better about the whole thing. Written November 11, 2005 and never before published:

I imagined that when I ran the marathon, all those weeks of training would have molded me into an incredibly organized person who maybe bore a slight resemblance to a supermodel. Or if not a supermodel (because I'm not quite that delusional) maybe someone that could appear in an ad for running shoes. Someone who you look at and say, well, yeah, she's a marathoner.

But truth be told, I am not a pretty runner. My face turns bright red and I don't glisten like Anna Kournikova, I sweat. I don't wake every morning bright eyed and ready to jump into my running shoes. Most of my running clothes aren't fashioned out of the latest wicking material, they don't even match. I'm not that organized either. The other day I spilled a little bit of coffee on my shirt, above my right boob, and walked around with that slight coffee stain all day long. I continue to spill things in front of famous and/or powerful people on a weekly to monthly basis. I've spilled coffee at a major network. Training for a marathon didn't make me any less of a nerd.

But somehow in the days right before the race I made peace with that. I started all of this just to finish, and in some Thoreau aped way, to get down to the marrow of life and see what kind of marathoner I was. Even if it should have been painfully obvious, it was a revelation to discover that I was the runner in the scenario, with all my flaws intact. Just as it should be.

***

During my first New York City winter I was working two jobs, one at a publishing company and another weekends at my boss's partner's antique shop. One early Sunday morning there was a blizzard fresh covering of snow on the ground and it was cold and I was lonely...you know that kind of loneliness when you've found someone you love and when you're not with them you're just longing, longing, longing? I'm fairly independent, not one for clinging. Still, this one morning it was dark and quiet, not a soul on the street, the town wrapped in blankets. I stood alone, small, waiting for the bus wishing for a cup of coffee and longing to return to my boyfriend and my bed.

I was most likely feeling sorry for myself.

I heard him before I saw him. Like sleigh bells he came ringing down the street, bells on his ankles, bells on his wrists, a tambourine in his hand, white beard flowing, a running buddha. He could have been 40 or 60 or 90.

He was just in it. He was working his trip, man. He was running.

***

I really don't know exactly when the idea first took hold. My old bosses, my mentors, both ran marathons. Did it go back all the way to Junior High when my best friend challenged me to run the weekly "Cougar Mile" with her in gym class instead of walking it like all the other girls? Or my first track meet in seventh grade when I finished my first race, the mile, and I felt the first runner's high I can remember? The feeling that I could run a million more?

Forget a million more. Forget everything the Proclaimers said. 26.2 miles is a hell of a long way.

I got my forerunner, a pair of shoes, and a book, and I was on my way.

When I told people I was training for a marathon often people would respond that they couldn't even run a mile. I could run a mile when I started. I could run three. My first long training run measured five miles and I didn't know how I was going to make it through. Pride, determination, stubbornness, and one foot in front of the other got me through that first run. When I was done I was already sore and destroyed. I look back at that time now and it's so small compared to what came later, but not insignificant. It was almost exactly a year ago. I kept building and building, soon it was six miles, then ten, then fourteen, eighteen.

And then I was standing in Staten Island, waiting in line for the bathroom, again. (I was drinking great quantities of water. And I'm a girl. And there were policemen on horses busting the boys running to pee on bushes. But later, in fact, right there on the Verrazano, several boys peed off the side of the bridge, or onto the bridge wall.) (Also, when I told people I was training for the marathon, everyone wanted to tell me about people who had died from drinking too much water. As if I needed anything more to worry about.)

I asked people to text message me along the route, welcome brave new world. So many people were spread across the country, and across the 26 miles. I didn't want to miss anyone if I could help it. Maybe periodically checking my cellphone slowed me down slightly, but I couldn't have come up with a better idea. While I was still waiting to begin in Staten Island I received five texts from Eric.

One said, "You are the strongest person I know. I am so proud! RUN!"

Maybe the Proclaimers were onto something. I ate my carbs and drank my gatorade, but I don't know if there's a stronger mental fuel for this sort of task than love, and support like that from people who love you.

Oh, and training. God forbid someone read this and try to run a marathon on Love alone.

***

Because I was in the longest line for the bathroom ever, I started the race towards the very back. I think thirty minutes passed after the official start before I crossed the start line. As my feet crossed the start and my chip registered with a beep, the loudspeakers played "NO SLEEP TIL BROOKLYN" and helicopters circled and I knew the city gleamed to the left somewhere beyond the fog.

It was warmer than expected. This was the only moment in the race where I thought I might not finish. It seemed so daunting, with all of it still ahead of me. And it wasn't that I really thought I wouldn't finish, or that I would give up. I just thought, "My heart is pounding far too hard. Relax. Relax!" Eventually I did. That bridge was one of my favorite parts of the race too. It was beautiful and the whole day was ahead of me and there was so much promise and possibility and it was also terrifying and breathtaking.



Running a marathon is such an obvious metaphor for life the cliche almost hurts my teeth.

***

The older Asian man with the bells became a mascot for me. He owns a building on our street and decorates the storefront with marathon posters. I'd often see him running side streets when I was training. For years since I first saw him that winter morning I spotted him joyfully running with bells or a tambourine. I've written about him here before, how he danced with American flags on his roof on the 4th of July or decorated his building in preparation for the elections. That morning I spotted him as I rode a bus over the bridge on the way to the starting line. He was already among the other runners, dancing to a band with Sponge Bob Square Pants.



***

I knew from years past that spotting runners along the route is nearly impossible. A few years ago I went out to cheer a friend and the exercise of looking for him in a sea of moving arms and legs made me hallucinate. The road started to flow like a river and I said, okaaaaaaay, time to go home now. Before the race I tried to find out where people would be standing so I could find them. Still I missed a few. I looked for Molly in her neighborhood, but missed her. I also just missed Jimmy, Christene, and their dog Nola outside their apartment.

I had my cheap mp3 player during this portion of the race. It doesn't hold very many songs, so I listened to a few over and over again. Talking Heads' Naive Melody and the Sia Breathe song from Six Feet Under played often. Just as that Sia song is a good driving through the desert song, it's pretty amazing to hear as you run through the streets of Brooklyn on an autumn morning as cheering crowds line either side. There was so much positive energy, so much momentum pushing me forward, even though this was the first point in the race where I began to run out of steam I could not stop. I had some chocolate powergel and pushed forward.

And of course every few miles or at water stations I could check my cell for text messages. I can't emphasize enough what a help they were. Andi and Hamish sent an encouraging message early on, and around this time I had my first message from Phil, which said only LAAAAUUUUURA, a sort of nickname in reference to the song by Ween. (Even though, like many songs about girls named Laura, it isn't a particularly nice song, it worked.) Others gave me updates to let me know where they were on the route. From messages like these I knew Eric would be waiting for me in Greenpoint, and Michael, Rebecca, and Nick were waiting in LIC. The midpoint of the race was the next milestone to race towards.

***

Bill Hicks once said, "Now, what do you write about jogging? ‘Right foot, left foot, faster, faster, oh hell, I dunno, go home, shower.’ Pretty much covers the jogging experience, I do believe."

***

I arrived at the section of Greenpoint where I thought Eric was waiting for me but I couldn't see him. I pulled off to the side of the track and called him. He said he was waiting a few blocks behind me. He couldn't believe he missed me. I couldn't believe I missed him.

"Okay, well I'm at the corner."

"I'm not sure I can get to you, there's water tables in the way, can you come back here?"

And then my head exploded. I was hot, I was tired, I had half a marathon still to go. WHAT??? YOU WANT ME TO DO WHAT? 26.2 miles isn't enough for you!?! I should go backwards, against the runners, and come find you? WHAT!

He said he was on his way. And then he was there, in seconds, with gatorade and water and well wishes and he took my hoodie and my mp3 player and all was right with the world again and I was off.

Greenpoint was easy because it's mine. Somehow I've always found it easier to run where there are landmarks that are familiar to me. When trying new routes the run back towards home always seems shorter. Before long I was over the Pulaski bride, which I'd already run several times, and into Long Island City.

Rebecca and Nick were there. Rebecca jumped up and down when she saw me and I did the same. She had a sandwich from that yummy deli across the street from Dominie's Hoek. Right around the corner I spotted Anne who was the first surprise friend of the day. After missing so many people I was shocked that a friend I wasn't looking for found me. Then, amazingly, Rebecca and Nick found me again, right before the bridge.

On the bridge I used my phone to take a picture of the 15 mile marker to indicate to others where I was in the race and as a memento. I walked most of the 59th street bridge as a treat to myself. I had decided before the race that my goal was to finish, walking was fine, and walking the incline on the 59th street bridge was definitely fine. Hello lamppost, whatcha knowin?



And then Manhattan.

***

When I was training I would often run over the Williamsburg Bridge and look to those huge buildings to my right as I approached Manhattan. I want to confide something that verifies my membership in the fondue covered cheetos club. Each time I crossed that bridge and looked to my right I would say, "Hello Shining City!" If it's possible to have a flirtatious prayerful mantra, that was mine. Hello Gorgeous. Hello Beautiful. Hello Shining City.

***

First Avenue is a canyon of sound. At the beginning of the race I had made name tags out of tape that displayed my name, but they fell off many miles ago. Now I'm wearing my Tour de France hat and a shirt that somewhat replicates The Flash. People are cheering, "Go Lightning Bolts!" and it takes me a few miles to realize they're cheering for me. Several others cheer me in French.

I'm heading for Phil and his friends at mile 18. He's sent another cheer informing me that I am "the stallion". It seems like I am always running towards my next group of friends, or enjoying the boost they gave me to get me to my next group. When I arrive at 96th street they're there with a sign that says "GO EDDIE DINGLE!" Somehow I know that means me.

***

All up First Avenue and for the remainder of the race I'm chasing my neighbor and he's ringing his bells. I pass him. He passes me. Of course he's about 40 years older than me and has a much better attitude, so while it feels good to pass him, I certainly am never smug. He's my recurring motif, my good luck charm, my talisman, and maybe my macguffin.

Here he is.


Here I am.


Look, there he is!


Look, there he is again!



***

Jimmy sent me messages from "The Ghost of Prefontaine."

***

A little after mile 20 my brother sent me a text. "I'm with you for the next mile." All around me runners were hitting walls but I couldn't stop. My brother was running a mile with me. Even though he was in Austin and I was in New York, we were running together, and I wasn't going to walk on his watch.

Of course I would later joke that he could have sent the message, gone to the fridge for a beer, and sat back down on the couch. I'm just going to have to trust that he didn't.

Running under the impression that my brother was metaphorically at my side took me through the Bronx and back to Manhattan. Falling leaves filled the air and later Chris would tell me he felt like he was in a Woody Allen movie. I might have appreciated it more if I hadn't been thinking "Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. Ow. Ow ow ow ow."

Chris and Spring were there to yell for me as I turned into Central Park itself. Again, a huge must needed burst of energy carried me a few more steps.

They say the last few miles of the marathon is the second half of the race. I remember very little about my run through central park, only that it seemed to go on forever. As I took my second to last corner Emily surprised me by yelling out to me from the crowd. I can't believe she spotted me. I know I keep saying that.

As I ran along the southern part of the park I heard and then spotted Eric cheering for me. I gave him a look full of all the emotion I had left. I'm so tired. I'm so done. I love you so much. I can't do this anymore. But I will. Somehow I will.

He cheered me on. A little ways after I'd passed him I began to slow to a walk. Then I heard my name again, and looked to the sidelines where Eric was running among the spectators. Go! Do not give up! Go! GO!

Well okay then. How can you argue with that?

I rounded the last corner and ran the longest 400 meters of my life as fast as I could.



What can I say about the finish? It's rock and roll and extra points and winning in overtime, but better.

Finishing a marathon is its own reward. Later we went to dinner at Teddy's and they gave me a free dessert. Bonus.

Permalink posted by Laura at 3:31 PM
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