The Race

Smiling down happily were the race gods Sunday, sending near-optimal running conditions to FR (aka sis) in her racing debut, a half marathon. My mom walked outside to survey conditions, then said something like "Perfect running weather." My mom has never ran. I mean, more than a few feet at a time. She'd heard us talking the night before about the forecasted weather and how great it'd be for running. Sunday's conditions met her approval.

The course FR ran isn't an ideal one. You start in one section of the city then make your way to the other so it's hard to position yourself. Basically, people wait at the finish. Spectator support was practically none.

My mom and I got to the finish around 8:30 a.m., just after the 8 a.m. start time. We began walking toward the start. Between mile 12 and 13 the winners started to come in. I think he finished 1:07. My mom spent the next half mile talking abut how he looked like he'd just started running, how effortless he looked, how he looked like he was flying! Indeed.

Late into mile 11 is a large hill which my mom and I walked down. The plan was for me to hook up with FR around mile 10 and bring her on in in a good pace. The hill was huge. My mom's like, I do'nt know, can she do it? I remember my first half marathon. Just when I thought I was done with hills, right after mile 13 out popped one the size of a suburban house's driveway. The announcer yelled "And here comes heartbreak hill!" Quite funny only it felt gigundoly huge. How would FR handle the hill, roughly 3 city blocks?

My mom stopped at a cafe for a coffee and a sweet between 11 and 12 and I ran off to get into position to meet FR. I quickly walked down the closed streets, largely quiet save for the runner's heaving breathing and occasional chatter between runners. Right before mile 10, I heard FR shout my name. Right away I could tell she looked strong. She was running with her boyfriend, who also looked good.

"How you feeling?" I asked (after I'd run quickly ahead to snap a few photos).
"Fine. My knee's killing me." said FR
"You're looking strong. Better than I thought. You're almost at the end."

Off we ran.

"The hill at the end's pretty big," I told her a bit later. "Do you want to try running up it?"
Yes, she said.
"OK, right before the hill, walk a bit to rest and get ready," I instructed.

Later,
"My knee feels like it's going to crack in half," FR reported.
I quickly racked my brain -- could one really crack their knee in half while running? I decided maybe, but highly unlikely.
"It won't, sis, It wont," I reassured her.

More running.
"I think my toenail just fell off," came the update.
I nearly gagged, trying desperately not to a. picture that and b. act like I was about to gag.

Here came the hill.

Of all the valuable things partyrunner's coach LM taught her, it's how to handle hills. I marveled in our early runs together how she didn't pause when going up hills. She just kept running while I'd begin to lag behind. I became determined to conquer hills. No longer would they be the patch of the run where I slowed down. Id' keep my form. I trained aggressively on the hills.

"Remember," I tell sis. "Hills are really just flat land with a bit of elevation."

She attacked the hill. Objectively, as her RC (running coach) I can say she looked surprisingly good. Hardcore. She walked a bit, more to rest her knee, but kept right on going. Up the hill she went, rounding the turn for the final stretch.

right before mile 13, I left her. I'm running ahead, I told her, to get in position to get a shot of you at the finish line. I sprinted ahead, completely and totally sure she had the race in her pocket.

Seconds after I was in position, there she came. I got her photo. She turned in her chip, got her medal with the brightly colored ribbon and met her. Emotion overcame her, she had tears in her eyes she was trynig to hold back (was that a tear in RC's eye?).

Minutes later, her boyfriend passed. I missed the shot, alas, but when he crossed the finish line, he looked up and closed his eyes, and he gave a quick pump of his fist above his head. You could feel his sense of accomplishment and pride. Wish I'd gotten the photo.

FR's final time: 2 hours, 25 minutes, beating her projected pace of 11 minutes per mile by a few seconds.

Last night, we had a dinner party. Over carne asada and Coronas, FR asked what people were reading. Without waiting for an answer she quickly jumped in: "Oh, Im' reading 'Marathoning for Mortals.' It's a great book."

FR is hooked. While for a while there she couldn't understand how all i could do is talk about running, now she understands.

Good job, FR. Your coach, and sis, couldn't be more proud.