So I spent all of last week in "Buenos Aires" Argentina, which has anything but "Good Air" as the translated version of the name would lead me to believe. It seems that the farmers are both feuding with the government and also attempting to grow a healthier crop so they are burning the fields (so I hear) - which makes the forecast on weather.com read "Smokey" - so "Buenos Aires"? Hardly.
I flew back on a red-eye Friday and after a half-dozen tormented naps on the plane, I landed back in Dallas at around 6:30am Saturday. From there we packed up the kids, and a friend (who ran with me) along with her two kids - and drove 3 and a half hours to Oklahoma City for the "Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon" which was going to take place the following day.
That night, despite laying down to go to bed around 9:30 I eventually fell asleep around 11:30 (see also: 7 people in one hotel room, 4 kids, jet lag, can't drink, etc.,) and it seemed just 5 minutes later two separate alarms went off telling me it was already 4:30 - time to get up in order to catch the 5:15 am shuttle to the race. Despite my original disbelief ("I just fell asleep didn't I?", and the brief "Where am I") it was actually 4:30am, and not just 11:35 as I'd hoped.
At 5:00 am, as we made our way to the shuttle, it was around 40 degrees outside, windy, and a steady rain was falling that wasn't so bad - except when the wind blew it and the temp outside made it sort of sting. Other than that it was actually really nice outside - especially in shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt. As we made our way to the starting line my whole body was shivering, and I was making a steady humming sound with my voice because I found it entertaining how my chattering jaw was chopping up the sound "da da da da da la la la la la" and to also let the other people around me know that I was shivering.
Since this was a memorial run, for the Oklahoma City bombing, just before the start there was 168 seconds of silence to remember each person who died, followed by an emotional version of the national anthem. It was a very moving experience.
In the end I was able to beat my last time by about 2 minutes - however towards the end I got passed by this cat who had to be in his late 60's if not early 70's with a full head of gray hair and a few spools of extra skin draped on him - it was certainly humbling but I had to give it to the guy. I didn't stop once, for 13.1 miles straight, with a pace of 7:54 minute miles (which is = to 7.6 on a treadmill for 1 hr 43 mins straight)
I'm just now starting to be able to walk without a noticeable limp
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
5 comments:
1) You are a very disturbed individual.
2) The man you refer to as "cat" . . . was he Sammy Davis Junior?
3) Congrats! You are amazing!
Congratulations, Polvo!
Why 7 people in one hotel room? Where were you - Bethlehem?
the last time I spent the night with 7 people in a hotel room was Daytona Beach.....Spring Break 1968....but that's another story.
Polvo-again, you are amazing!
For Vic, last post...that spring break 1968--is that when you woke up in a big ol' ice cooler?? that still had lots of ice in it???
the "woke up in an ice cooler" story was one (of the many) coming of age chapters in my life...it actually was a real life experience from spending the night in the infield at the Daytona 500....some of my most cherished days from being a teenager involved Daytona beach and the 500.........this story would have been about February 1965, 66, or 67...before I was married in 68...being married slowed my overnight-in-the-infield trips down substantially..........I remember waking up on race day....about 5:00 AM.....freezin ass cold and soaking wet..and cramped and sleeping in a large blue Igloo ice cooler filled with half melted ice...empty beer bottles and a few pizza boxes...........I crawled out of the cooler and immediately began begging and offering great rewards to my two main companions: The Goat and The Goose, and any bystanders within the sound of my voice....for anyone would that would be kind enough to take my sorry hung over vomiting headaching ass back home to lakeland before the race started.....and it was about that time that it was explained to me and I learnt a very valuable life lesson...that being once you drove your beat up '56 chevy thru the tunnel and in the infield at Daytona....nobody left till many many many hous after the race was over. To fully appreciate the circumstances.....you need to get drunk on a combination cheap MD20/20 scotch, Old Crow whiskey chased with Dr. Pepper and some nasty Guinese beer and eat nothing but cardboard pizza for two days....sleep all night in a bed of ice cubes with a tee shirt and bathing suit on......and then go and stand behind a Boeing 747 to hear what 43 NASCAR cars going around you sounds like... for about 5 continious hours.
The spring break '68 you asked about was June at Daytona beach.....again before being married...at the Olympia Hotel...space and time limitations will not allow me to render the details of that experience at this time.
Post a Comment