Life, Take Two - In Austin

I had planned to do a long post about holiday/post-holiday blahs and inertia – a general life yuckiness that began just after a period of grief in October and persisted, even into last week. I ran San Antonio's Rock & Roll Half Marathon in November and promptly got sick – and then seemed to be sick every other week until the end of January. My long runs were down, my time on the couch was up, and I was using all the energy I had to do the necessary home and family stuff while meeting a crazy year-end/year-beginning work schedule of cleanup and deadlines (then my work computer crashed). We spent a relaxing few days out of town, but then I went right back to high alert. I spent many nights winding down with a glass (or several) of wine, and a plate of fatty food.

But I haven’t finished that post - it was mired in its own inertia. I’m glad. I wanted to write a “Hey – I’ve been there too” piece, but I couldn’t get it right, no matter how much I worked on it. Today it occurred to me that I don’t have to write that post – at least not now. I may come back to it when I have some distance, when I can present the topic more positively, when I feel I've learned something about these hard times in our lives and have useful suggestions about getting through them, without pretending to have all the answers – because clearly I don’t.

Instead – Austin! The Livestrong Austin Marathon and Half Marathon on Sunday. It feels like a complete jump-start back into my life.

From the opening paragraph, you can probably guess that I was not as strong for this year’s race as I was at last year’s. And of course, the hills seemed even harder than last year. Still, I was excited in a way I haven’t been for a lot of my other races, fighting tears as I navigated to my starting corral on the capitol grounds (way back in the back) – there’s a rightness about being among all those other runners that always moves me.

A girl in the potty line was wearing a Rice shirt. I’ve learned the hard way that the younger generation of fellow alums looks at me like I’m nutty when I run up to them shouting, “Hey, Rice! Jones ’94!” So I left her alone, not wanting to freak her out on race day.

I laughed when I heard a young guy say, “Well, I guess we’ll see if all that snowboarding helped.” I saw people wearing shirts from Rock & Roll San Antonio, and even one from the Fleet Feet Sports Sunrise 10 & 5K that I ran last August. I silently wished everyone around me a good race, especially an old friend running her first marathon (She finished! And is already talking about the next one!)

The day was windy, but warmer than last year. I’d been checking the forecast all week, watching the little computer icon change from clouds shooting lightning bolts to clouds fronting a sun. The area drizzle burned away as I drove in on Saturday. Many of the business owners along the race route put messages for the runners on their signs, and you had to appreciate one in the first mile or so that read, “Hey, we could have a wind chill of 14.”

I had my usual feeling of dread that comes up around mile 2, especially with the long climb in the first six miles. My brain chatters: “Why are you doing this? Do you know how far it is to the finish line? And you have to make it there to get your finisher’s shirt and banana.” And so on. But so far, I’ve always gotten through. After the first series of hills I enjoyed a cruising feeling for a few miles. I love going downhill – or just flattening out. At 9 I was pretty tired, but at least the end was in sight, and even while walking my screaming hamstrings straight up another hill (I swear, my butt is about an inch higher now), I thought, Wow - this has turned into a really nice morning.

Will I ever get myself ready for those hills?

In what’s becoming a fun tradition, I once again bunked with my buddy Jen, who also served as a gracious chauffeur to packet pickup and to/from the race – I wasn’t the only out-of-towner moving slooooowly, stretching at the bus stop, and croaking into a cell phone, “I’m at the corner of 7th and Colorado.” As a bonus, I made some new friends in Jen’s in-laws, and the weekend was a party. Josie’s Enchiladas at Maudie’s (love their guacamole), a post-race Old Reliable burger with a yummy Voodoo Queen (spicy bloody Mary) at Red’s Porch, and tons of laughter: not once did my introverted self feel the urge to run off and hide behind a book.

There was something about this weekend – the competition, the cheering spectators, the silent bonding with everyone around me as runners, our collective accomplishment, being with friends – that gave me a wonderful sense of integration when I woke up this morning. I usually experience a touch of this after any race, but this time my mind and body felt especially fused in a good way. I launched back into my daily life with a joy-filled mind; I’m tired and a little sore, but there’s a lightness in my chest that's been missing for months. I’m savoring this as healing, as contentment with the world and my place in it. And looking forward to hopping back on the running wagon.

Congratulations, everyone!