I found this 100 Life Experiences on Heather's blog. I will indicate the things I've done in boldface, along with occasional commentary.
Started your own blog
Slept under the stars - my dad had something against tents
Played in a band
Visited Hawaii
Watched a meteor shower
Given more than you can afford to charity
Been to Disneyland (and Disney World)
Climbed a mountain
Held a praying mantis
Sang a solo
Bungee jumped - you betcha! with my daredevil brother
Visited Paris - replica in my hometown of Las Vegas
Watched a lightning storm at sea - on our honeymoon cruise
Taught yourself an art from scratch
Adopted a child
Had food poisoning
Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
Grown your own vegetables
Seen the Mona Lisa in France
Slept on an overnight train - in India - very vivid memories of this
Had a pillow fight
Hitchhiked
Taken a sick day when you’re not ill - many times, which may explain my many firings
Built a snow fort
Held a lamb - no, but watching a baby goat birth oughtta count here
Gone skinny dipping - I got in a lot of trouble for that
Run a marathon
Ridden in a gondola in Venice - replica in my hometown of Las Vegas
Seen a total eclipse
Watched a sunrise or sunset
Hit a home run
Been on a cruise
Seen Niagara Falls in person
Visited the birthplace of your ancestors - as well as their burial places
Seen an Amish community - I have the magnet to prove it!
Taught yourself a new language
Had enough money to be truly satisfied
Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
Gone rock climbing
Seen Michelangelo’s David - replica in my hometown of Las Vegas
Sung karaoke
Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt - on two separate visits
Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
Visited Africa - I don't remember it, because it was in the throes of labor since my daughter insists she was born there
Walked on a beach by moonlight
Been transported in an ambulance
Had your portrait painted
Gone deep sea fishing
Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris - replica in my hometown of Las Vegas
Gone SCUBA diving or snorkeling
Kissed in the rain
Played in the mud
Gone to a drive-in theater
Been in a movie
Visited the Great Wall of China
Started a business
Taken a martial arts class
Visited Russia
Served at a soup kitchen
Sold Girl Scout Cookies - but I have eaten my fair share
Gone whale watching
Got flowers for no reason
Donated blood, platelets or plasma - read all about it here
Gone sky diving
Visited a Nazi concentration camp
Bounced a check
Flown in a helicopter - even helped pilot one
Saved a favorite childhood toy
Visited the Lincoln Memorial
Eaten caviar - my opinion: too salty
Pieced a quilt
Stood in Times Square - replica in my hometown of Las Vegas
Toured the Everglades
Been fired from a job - oh, many, many times
Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
Broken a bone - toes and leg-- one resulted in a plane ride, one in a '66 Mustang
Been on a speeding motorcycle
Seen the Grand Canyon in person - many, many times - and one day, I'll hike it
Published a book
Visited the Vatican
Bought a brand new car
Walked in Jerusalem - there is no replica in my hometown of Las Vegas... wonder why?
Had your picture in the newspaper
Read the entire Bible
Visited the White House
Killed and prepared an animal for eating - a trout, specifically
Had chickenpox
Saved someone’s life
Sat on a jury
Met someone famous
Joined a book club
Lost a loved one
Had a baby - four, in fact
Seen the Alamo in person
Swam in the Great Salt Lake
Been involved in a law suit
Owned a cell phone
Been stung by a bee
Read an entire book in one day
64/100 which is not bad considering I may only be about halfway through life on Earth. Sure helps that I live where I do, or else Venice, Paris, New York, and the statue of David would be out of reach.
I'm running low on blog topics, so if you need some elaboration on any of these, please ask.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Thursday, January 5, 2012
I think I could run a marathon in 2012...
... if I could wear my Smart Wool crew socks and Tempur-Pedic slippers.
In fact, by golly, if I could wear my Smart Wool crew socks and Tempur-Pedic slippers, I think I could do ANYTHING in 2012!
In fact, by golly, if I could wear my Smart Wool crew socks and Tempur-Pedic slippers, I think I could do ANYTHING in 2012!
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
On Reading
(Title and subject copied from Rob Dixon - hoping some of my blogging friends will now in turn copy me.)
A year ago, I had high aspirations for reading 11 books in 2011. This was my list, removed only earlier today from my sidebar:
Never started any of the other books on the list. I kept reading, yes, but not the books I'd intended. One of my favorites was: Divine Mercy in My Soul - Diary of Saint Maria Faustina Kowalska. I would even call it life-changing. St. Fautina's example of suffering and sacrifice, coupled with her love for Jesus made a difference in how I've lived my life since reading the diary during Lent.
My father gave me Stephen Ambrose's To America - Personal Reflections of an Historian and I savored it. You may know Ambrose but don't know you know him - because he wrote books that provided the historical backbone for movies like "Saving Private Ryan." He has written more than 25 works of history, but this book is almost as much about writing as it is about history. I loved hearing about the adventures he had in researching. And he piqued my interest in World War II, and his work on documenting D-Day so now I really REALLY want to visit the National D-Day Museum in New Orleans. Since my dad gave me the book, maybe he should organize that trip.
I perused my bookshelves to pull out other titles I finished this year, but suddenly the past couple years blended together and I can't remember which books were 2011 and which were 2010. No matter, I also came across some I've purchased and haven't picked up yet. As soon as I finish Catching Fire and Mockingjay, next up is Heart of the Trail - The Stories of Eight Wagon Train Women. Here we go 2012!
A year ago, I had high aspirations for reading 11 books in 2011. This was my list, removed only earlier today from my sidebar:
- Don Quixote - Cervantes
- The Hunchback of Notre Dame - Hugo
- Something of Aquinas'
- Sense and Sensibility - Austen
- Confessions - Augustine
- Wuthering Heights - Bronte
- The Divine Comedy (all 3 books) - Dante
- Robinson Crusoe - Defoe
- Great Expectations - Dickens
- The Iliad and The Odyssey - Homer
- Collected Speeches by Martin Luther King, Jr.
Never started any of the other books on the list. I kept reading, yes, but not the books I'd intended. One of my favorites was: Divine Mercy in My Soul - Diary of Saint Maria Faustina Kowalska. I would even call it life-changing. St. Fautina's example of suffering and sacrifice, coupled with her love for Jesus made a difference in how I've lived my life since reading the diary during Lent.
My father gave me Stephen Ambrose's To America - Personal Reflections of an Historian and I savored it. You may know Ambrose but don't know you know him - because he wrote books that provided the historical backbone for movies like "Saving Private Ryan." He has written more than 25 works of history, but this book is almost as much about writing as it is about history. I loved hearing about the adventures he had in researching. And he piqued my interest in World War II, and his work on documenting D-Day so now I really REALLY want to visit the National D-Day Museum in New Orleans. Since my dad gave me the book, maybe he should organize that trip.
I perused my bookshelves to pull out other titles I finished this year, but suddenly the past couple years blended together and I can't remember which books were 2011 and which were 2010. No matter, I also came across some I've purchased and haven't picked up yet. As soon as I finish Catching Fire and Mockingjay, next up is Heart of the Trail - The Stories of Eight Wagon Train Women. Here we go 2012!
Monday, January 2, 2012
Life is Hard for Everyone
"Life is hard for everyone." This is one of the revelations I've had only since becoming a grown-up. It is on a list along with, "Mushrooms are delicious," and "Skinny people don't eat brownie sundaes several times a day."
I remember the time that last one sunk in. I was a big fan of the TV show "Friends." But one of my issues is a penchant for comparing myself to slim Hollywood stars and coming up short. Not until I disciplined myself a few years back and lost 25 pounds did it occur to me that Jennifer Aniston, Courtney Cox-Arquette, and Lisa Kudrow also had to WORK at being thin. They didn't get to eat anything they wanted anytime they wanted and miraculously remain slim and toned. Granted, they probably have a paid staff and hordes of time to help them focus on the size of their thighs, but still... they had/have to actually put forth an effort of some sort.
My career goal in college was to be a reporter and eventually work my way to anchorwoman. Naturally, I admired the talents and positions of women like Diane Sawyer, Connie Chung, Jane Pauley, Barbara Walters, and Paula Zahn (NOT Katie Couric, mind you). One day I heard an interview with one of them and she was asked about the crazy hours she was required to keep. Remarking on her 3:30 a.m. wake-up, she admitted that every single day when the alarm clock would sound, her mind would immediately start devising excuses for not getting out of bed. I was shocked! I suppose I assumed that with her high-power career, enormous success, and good looks, life was just easy for her. It matured me to realize that successful people become successful not because everything comes easy to them, but because they are willing to work. Even if they're given a break to attain that success, they have to work to keep it.
I follow a group of "mother runners" on facebook and I know from reading hundreds of posts that even though a woman might love to run, she usually doesn't love to wake up to run. This is oddly comforting. It's not like it's only hard for me. My inner whiner who says, "This is sooooo unfair! I wanna stay in bed! Everyone else has it so easy - they wake up to brilliant moods and good breath and matched running socks. But not me! It's HORRIBLE for me. I feel horrible, I look horrible, and it's too cold outside," has to be ignored. Perhaps she even has to be smothered with my pillow. I wonder if that's what Diane Sawyer did with her inner whiner.
Christmas break is coming to a close. Tomorrow I have to rise early once again and shower and dress and start a load of laundry and count my Weight Watchers points and assemble my children in their homeschool classroom, and, oh... get back to running. It ain't gonna be easy. But at least I'm not alone.
I remember the time that last one sunk in. I was a big fan of the TV show "Friends." But one of my issues is a penchant for comparing myself to slim Hollywood stars and coming up short. Not until I disciplined myself a few years back and lost 25 pounds did it occur to me that Jennifer Aniston, Courtney Cox-Arquette, and Lisa Kudrow also had to WORK at being thin. They didn't get to eat anything they wanted anytime they wanted and miraculously remain slim and toned. Granted, they probably have a paid staff and hordes of time to help them focus on the size of their thighs, but still... they had/have to actually put forth an effort of some sort.
My career goal in college was to be a reporter and eventually work my way to anchorwoman. Naturally, I admired the talents and positions of women like Diane Sawyer, Connie Chung, Jane Pauley, Barbara Walters, and Paula Zahn (NOT Katie Couric, mind you). One day I heard an interview with one of them and she was asked about the crazy hours she was required to keep. Remarking on her 3:30 a.m. wake-up, she admitted that every single day when the alarm clock would sound, her mind would immediately start devising excuses for not getting out of bed. I was shocked! I suppose I assumed that with her high-power career, enormous success, and good looks, life was just easy for her. It matured me to realize that successful people become successful not because everything comes easy to them, but because they are willing to work. Even if they're given a break to attain that success, they have to work to keep it.
I follow a group of "mother runners" on facebook and I know from reading hundreds of posts that even though a woman might love to run, she usually doesn't love to wake up to run. This is oddly comforting. It's not like it's only hard for me. My inner whiner who says, "This is sooooo unfair! I wanna stay in bed! Everyone else has it so easy - they wake up to brilliant moods and good breath and matched running socks. But not me! It's HORRIBLE for me. I feel horrible, I look horrible, and it's too cold outside," has to be ignored. Perhaps she even has to be smothered with my pillow. I wonder if that's what Diane Sawyer did with her inner whiner.
Christmas break is coming to a close. Tomorrow I have to rise early once again and shower and dress and start a load of laundry and count my Weight Watchers points and assemble my children in their homeschool classroom, and, oh... get back to running. It ain't gonna be easy. But at least I'm not alone.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
My Very Own Commune
In my ideal world, we all could hang out and talk and eat and go for hikes and raise our children together and celebrate every major holiday. I recognize this is the gist of a commune. In fact, I've researched a couple communes - one based on shared birthing philosophies (which would deteriorate after menopause, presumably); one based on religion. If they weren't located in awkward states like Florida and Indiana, I believe I would have already joined.
My husband has a paying job in Las Vegas, Nevada, so here we are. I am unaware of any registered communes in Las Vegas, but what we have in our neighborhood is sort of a "junior" commune. Eight families who know each other well, moved here on purpose, help each other out with the kids and occasionally gather for dinner. In order to become a "full-fledged" commune, I think all we need are more guitars, longer hair on the men, and a couple of Volkswagen buses. In the commune of my imagining, someone else cooks and I do the dishes. I never have to cook. Occasionally, I'll bake, but it's never my turn to make dinner. Oh, and we all have lots of time to spend time together because, presumably, someone is independently wealthy and has financed our endless free time to play guitar, grow hair, and insure the Volkswagens.
In real life, we have to pay the bills, maintain the houses, and go to soccer games. There are events to attend, errands to do, TV shows to watch, classes at the gym. And while I have no problem with any of these things on their own, once you pile them all together, you have exactly NO time to commune! Now I'm using commune as a verb instead of a noun. If you prefer, use the term "hang out" or, as I once heard in a book called Reclaiming Friendship, by Ajith Fernando, "linger." Mr. Fernando said we don't know how to linger, and I agree with him. We can't stick around to just "be" with each other when the to-do list calls.
I don't know how to remedy this. Even if I resolve to linger more at friends' houses, I'm not sure how they'll take it. What's the balance between lingering for the sake of deepening our friendships and wearing out our welcome? Lately I am very drawn to the friendships that are "easy." We get along, our kids get along, there is no shortage of conversation topics, and I can even wear my slippers or pajama pants around them and it's okay. One of my new year's resolutions is, in essence, to "visit" people more. A great visit happened today when some friends of ours came over after church and stayed through lunch (which they brought) and dinner (which we provided). We sat and talked and ate a couple times and even prayed together. There was a lot of laughing and the kids kept busy and happy as well. I think even without the guitars, long hair, and Volkswagens, we're on to something. Lord, help me cultivate this in 2012.
My husband has a paying job in Las Vegas, Nevada, so here we are. I am unaware of any registered communes in Las Vegas, but what we have in our neighborhood is sort of a "junior" commune. Eight families who know each other well, moved here on purpose, help each other out with the kids and occasionally gather for dinner. In order to become a "full-fledged" commune, I think all we need are more guitars, longer hair on the men, and a couple of Volkswagen buses. In the commune of my imagining, someone else cooks and I do the dishes. I never have to cook. Occasionally, I'll bake, but it's never my turn to make dinner. Oh, and we all have lots of time to spend time together because, presumably, someone is independently wealthy and has financed our endless free time to play guitar, grow hair, and insure the Volkswagens.
In real life, we have to pay the bills, maintain the houses, and go to soccer games. There are events to attend, errands to do, TV shows to watch, classes at the gym. And while I have no problem with any of these things on their own, once you pile them all together, you have exactly NO time to commune! Now I'm using commune as a verb instead of a noun. If you prefer, use the term "hang out" or, as I once heard in a book called Reclaiming Friendship, by Ajith Fernando, "linger." Mr. Fernando said we don't know how to linger, and I agree with him. We can't stick around to just "be" with each other when the to-do list calls.
I don't know how to remedy this. Even if I resolve to linger more at friends' houses, I'm not sure how they'll take it. What's the balance between lingering for the sake of deepening our friendships and wearing out our welcome? Lately I am very drawn to the friendships that are "easy." We get along, our kids get along, there is no shortage of conversation topics, and I can even wear my slippers or pajama pants around them and it's okay. One of my new year's resolutions is, in essence, to "visit" people more. A great visit happened today when some friends of ours came over after church and stayed through lunch (which they brought) and dinner (which we provided). We sat and talked and ate a couple times and even prayed together. There was a lot of laughing and the kids kept busy and happy as well. I think even without the guitars, long hair, and Volkswagens, we're on to something. Lord, help me cultivate this in 2012.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Rosary Resolution
As goodbyes go, I think the one I had tonight with 2011 was sweet. I was outside at dusk and the sunset was astoundingly pretty. Streaks of pink all across the sky in all directions. I worshiped God right there on the sidewalk. I thanked him for His beauty and I told Him I love Him. And that quiet moment was like a reminder of His love for me, too. I tried to say something about the new year, a sort of an acknowledgment of my screw-ups this year while at the same time an expression of thankfulness for the hope that He gives. And then I kept walking. I'm going to keep walking figuratively, too, because I don't need to stand around and watch the sky go dark.
There are people who think New Year's Day is just another day. And New Year's Eve is just another eve. I'm not one of those people. I LOVE new beginnings. Start-overs, clean slates, change and adventure - the whole bit. So I like to "do it up" when it comes to resolutions. But this year I'm lacking ideas, so I sought help from my husband and from facebook. Kevin's not a resolution kind of a guy, so that was a bit of a dead end. Facebook, though, turned up some good suggestions. There were running-related suggestions, travel ideas, reading and writing and learn-a-new-thing suggestions. All good. But nothing really stuck in my head until tonight.
Tonight when our early party wound down and the kids were in bed, Kevin and I prayed the rosary together. I thought of it as the perfect way to finish the old year and begin the new. And we prayed for our children in particular. So all that is nice and good, but surprisingly to me, I found my resolutions in today's joyful mysteries. These resolutions are short and sweet and yes, a little contrived. But they were pretty loud and clear while I prayed so I'm not discounting them.
The first joyful mystery: The Annunciation of Gabriel to Mary from Luke 1:26-38
My resolution: to listen to the Lord. I want to trust that when He has something important to say, He will get His message across (or He already has!) - and I can read about it in scripture, experience it in the Eucharist at Mass, or hear it through another person. Or, heck, an angel. If God wants to go that route with me, I'll take it.
The second joyful mystery: The Visitation of Mary to Elizabeth from Luke 1:39-56
My resolution: to cling to my friendships as gifts from God. I said on facebook, in my "resolutions" post, (when a friend suggested I give it up for New Years) that "I would die without facebook." This is a slight exaggeration, as I am prone to slight exaggeration nearly every minute of every day - but it isn't completely untrue. That being said, I think I could move away from my dependence on the connection I enjoy through facebook if I instead went "visiting" in person more often. Those of you who live close to me - please be nice when I show up on your porch.
The third joyful mystery: The Birth of our Lord from Luke 2:1-21
My resolution: to celebrate His birth and life every day. We are in the midst of the Christmas season and the celebration of the crazy story of the birth of our Lord. I resolve to enjoy His life every day through more disciplined prayer. I've been a little lazy lately and I've paid for it with an uncomfortable distance from Jesus.
The fourth joyful mystery: The Presentation of our Lord in the Temple from Luke 2:22-38
Don't laugh at my simplicity here, but I took this as: keep goin' to Church. Perhaps my resolution lies in a renewed desire to see our Mass attendance as a solemn responsibility and joyful privilege (simultaneously) rather than a hardship preceded by lots of whining from young children.
The fifth joyful mystery: The Finding of our Lord in the Temple from Luke 2:41-52
Hm. As we headed into praying this decade, I tried so hard to meditate on the familiar passage. All I got was the image of Mary and Joseph's misunderstanding. So I suppose my resolution is to keep seeking wisdom, in scripture, prayer, and spiritual reading so that I am not perplexed by Jesus' actions, in scripture and in my life and the world I'm living in. I might sum up this resolution in one word: trust.
Just a note: I do plan to run a lot this year. And read. And write. And learn some new things. But it's kinda handy that my real resolutions came out of the rosary and are centered on Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for this sinner. Nothing more I can ask for in the new year.
There are people who think New Year's Day is just another day. And New Year's Eve is just another eve. I'm not one of those people. I LOVE new beginnings. Start-overs, clean slates, change and adventure - the whole bit. So I like to "do it up" when it comes to resolutions. But this year I'm lacking ideas, so I sought help from my husband and from facebook. Kevin's not a resolution kind of a guy, so that was a bit of a dead end. Facebook, though, turned up some good suggestions. There were running-related suggestions, travel ideas, reading and writing and learn-a-new-thing suggestions. All good. But nothing really stuck in my head until tonight.
Tonight when our early party wound down and the kids were in bed, Kevin and I prayed the rosary together. I thought of it as the perfect way to finish the old year and begin the new. And we prayed for our children in particular. So all that is nice and good, but surprisingly to me, I found my resolutions in today's joyful mysteries. These resolutions are short and sweet and yes, a little contrived. But they were pretty loud and clear while I prayed so I'm not discounting them.
The first joyful mystery: The Annunciation of Gabriel to Mary from Luke 1:26-38
My resolution: to listen to the Lord. I want to trust that when He has something important to say, He will get His message across (or He already has!) - and I can read about it in scripture, experience it in the Eucharist at Mass, or hear it through another person. Or, heck, an angel. If God wants to go that route with me, I'll take it.
The second joyful mystery: The Visitation of Mary to Elizabeth from Luke 1:39-56
My resolution: to cling to my friendships as gifts from God. I said on facebook, in my "resolutions" post, (when a friend suggested I give it up for New Years) that "I would die without facebook." This is a slight exaggeration, as I am prone to slight exaggeration nearly every minute of every day - but it isn't completely untrue. That being said, I think I could move away from my dependence on the connection I enjoy through facebook if I instead went "visiting" in person more often. Those of you who live close to me - please be nice when I show up on your porch.
The third joyful mystery: The Birth of our Lord from Luke 2:1-21
My resolution: to celebrate His birth and life every day. We are in the midst of the Christmas season and the celebration of the crazy story of the birth of our Lord. I resolve to enjoy His life every day through more disciplined prayer. I've been a little lazy lately and I've paid for it with an uncomfortable distance from Jesus.
The fourth joyful mystery: The Presentation of our Lord in the Temple from Luke 2:22-38
Don't laugh at my simplicity here, but I took this as: keep goin' to Church. Perhaps my resolution lies in a renewed desire to see our Mass attendance as a solemn responsibility and joyful privilege (simultaneously) rather than a hardship preceded by lots of whining from young children.
The fifth joyful mystery: The Finding of our Lord in the Temple from Luke 2:41-52
Hm. As we headed into praying this decade, I tried so hard to meditate on the familiar passage. All I got was the image of Mary and Joseph's misunderstanding. So I suppose my resolution is to keep seeking wisdom, in scripture, prayer, and spiritual reading so that I am not perplexed by Jesus' actions, in scripture and in my life and the world I'm living in. I might sum up this resolution in one word: trust.
Just a note: I do plan to run a lot this year. And read. And write. And learn some new things. But it's kinda handy that my real resolutions came out of the rosary and are centered on Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for this sinner. Nothing more I can ask for in the new year.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Post-Race Reflecting
My brand new half-marathon medal, emblazoned with its sparkling Vegas skyline is hanging from a shelf near my bed. If you look closely at the ribbon, there is some discoloration. That is because I barfed all over myself about an hour after the race. But doesn't that paint the perfect picture of athletic endeavor?-- The pride and the pain are part of the same package.
Walking to the start line for Sunday evening's Rock 'n' Roll Half Marathon was pleasant enough. We walked with lots of people, plenty dressed as Elvis, numerous women and men in tutus. How tutus became the "in thing" for runners I may never know, but they were all over the place.
With music in the background, and announcements over the loudspeaker when the full marathon started, we dove into the crowd and tried to check our "gear" and nibble on snacks and stand in line for the porta-potties. Still an hour before our start time, and with all the pre-race energy and optimism, I was mainly concerned about staying warm. Not until we tried to make our way to our starting corral did the weight of the enormous crowd become a burden.
I don't want to go on and on about the overcrowding. If you're interested, you should read Review Journal articles about the masses of people: there were 44,000 runners, plus all the spectators. Better yet, "like" Rock 'n' Roll Las Vegas Marathon & 1/2 Marathon on facebook and read their apology for the "inconveniences" of the race. The hundreds of comments following that post are revealing. They capture both sides of the issue: 1) This is a for-profit race organizer with an iconic race location. No matter what the complainers say, there will be thousands more racers next year. They're predicting 60,000-100,000 according to some accounts; 2) Someone should pay for the extreme lack of organization and resulting fire code violations. I see both sides. I lived both sides.
Once we jogged over the start line, I felt thrilled to run past so many towering Las Vegas landmarks and through the intersection of Las Vegas Boulevard and Flamingo with no cars, only runners. It was magnificent. But I couldn't gaze up for long because I had to dodge people. There were walkers who had evidently skipped their designated corrals and became obstacles right away. When I could squeeze between people, I'd speed up. Then slow again. Then speed up again. I kept overhearing people say, "It will thin out quickly," but it didn't. It didn't really thin out comfortably until about mile six or seven.
At the 5K mark, we were at 36 minutes, and whatever positive outlook I had maintained past the billions of walkers was dashed. The second 5K was a similar pace, and shortly before the 10-mile mark I felt like crap and wanted to collapse on the median. Taking stock, I didn't have any pain, but I also didn't have any energy. That was a strange sensation. My only mental boost at this point was the presence of so many people around me, and plenty more behind. I kept an eye on my GPS and knew that if I could at least maintain a jog, I should be able to accomplish my goal of beating my first half-marathon time of 2:43. Soon after the 10-mile mark, when I kept sputtering and stopping to walk "just to the next stoplight," I realized that unless I could really pick up the pace (like, to a 9-minute mile) this marathon was going to be slower than my first. No way I could do nine minutes at this point. But I managed to jog the last mile without stopping even though it wasn't pretty and I stopped seeing and hearing the cheering crowd at that point. I just wanted to be done.
According to the "Rock 'n' Roll Marathon Series Medical and Fluid Replacement Information" pamphlet that was in my race packet, blood is directed away from your internal organs to your legs during a race. It reads, "YOU MUST CONTINUE TO WALK AFTER FINISHING YOUR RACE. MOVE FOR AT LEAST 20 MINUTES!" I walked for about 15 seconds after finishing, and then was herded into a slow-moving mass past medal pick-up, past Mylars, past water and green bananas, and into the reunion area and gear pick-up. I was too grouchy and nauseous then to pay attention to the time, but later estimated I stood in a slow-moving horde of people for 15 minutes immediately following the race. Another 15 minutes was spent waiting to pick up my dry sweatshirt. While waiting in that line, I had to sit twice for fear of fainting, and felt sick. All around us, in the Shark Reef lobby, there were people sitting or lying on the ground, next to medical team members. It looked much more like a Red Cross tent after a natural disaster than a post-race scene.
My friend and ride home was waiting in front of a restaurant, which under normal circumstances would be a 3-minute walk from the Shark Reef area. It took us 90 minutes. We were in a throng of wall-to-wall bodies, most of them sweaty, and moving only a few inches a minute. There was no way out. It was one way with no side exits and it was horrid. I can honestly say that it was one of the worst experiences of my life. After a very miserable hour, just as the crowd began to move at a slow walk, I started vomiting. I should have employed this strategy sooner, because a 3-foot space miraculously opened all around me right when the retching started. I heard comments and murmurings from several men behind me. Oddly, I detected a hint of "this is to be expected" intermingled with the repulsed horror. Moments later, there was a place to pause and try to clean myself up. I stood near an area full of gurneys and EMTs and runners worse-off than me, but wondered if an ambulance ride might get me home quicker. Thankfully, I felt better after my "episode" and survived the remaining walk and monorail ride. Bodies were so close on that monorail that my friend's husband said we all needed to go to Confession afterward.
Today is Tuesday. What little hip flexor pain I had yesterday is now completely gone. I have no limp, no soreness. I suppose this is because I didn't run that hard, physically. Mentally, I am still in recovery mode. Given another couple days, I expect to label this run in my memory as the amazing experience it was: the third largest race of its kind after NYC and Boston; nighttime; on the Las Vegas strip. But for now, I need to get over missing my goal.
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