Marathon - done and done.

Something amazing happened yesterday, I ran and completed a marathon.  I remember back in the day when I first heard of the concept of marathon running and being absolutely dumbfounded that anyone in their right mind or body could run 26.2 miles.  I, at that time, could barely handle 2.2 miles.  and yet, amazingly, yesterday I blew past banner after banner of mile markers, and lifted my head in the sky and smiled every time I accomplished another mile.  I think I smiled more in those 5 hours and 41 minutes and 20 seconds that it took me to finish than I have for a continuous long amount of time in a while, and all based on that wonderful rush of accomplishing something so individual, and owning that feeling.  Maybe the other 14,999 runners out there were feeling just as proud... but I doubt it.  By the looks of things I saw a lot of faces feeling pain, aggression, competition, exhaustion.  And yes, I felt a few of these feelings too -- but the overwhelming rush of joy was dominant.  

Let me take you through the journey a bit... half the battle and nervousness came from riding the metro in Los Angeles at 5am to get to the race (the metro is highly recommended on race day due to street closures.)  I have never ridden the metro in LA, so the anxiety of buying the ticket, finding the right times, getting off at the right spot, etc. etc. SO STRESSFUL! all at 4:45am!!! But somehow I made it onto the metro, fanny pack stuffed with gu, shoes tied, bib in place, gatorade and power bar in hand... and from the train to the team meeting spot I arrived at the race.  I pow-wowed with my running buddies, took pictures, hit the port-o-potty, and lined up at the start with the rest of the ambitious racers.  Then Mayer Antonio gave an encouraging little speech, they fired the gun and Randy Newman's "I love LA" blasted over the speakers and the crowd started to move.  Then all of the sudden we crossed the start and my legs were off and running.  No turning back now!!!! My dear sweet running buddy, Nellie and I decided to take it super slow... which ultimately paid off BIG in the end.  And we slowly cruised through mile 1 to about 10 at a nice easy pace.  Seeing Bonnie at Mile 2 with a sign which read "Run Annie Run" was amazingly encouraging and exciting. :)  Then grabbing a gatorade from Austin to fuel me forward was enough to easily make the first 5 miles disappear.  Throughout the course the sweet APLA coaches would run up to us and chug along side for a few yards with words of encouragement and praise.  

The miles I remember the most:  

Mile ELEVEN -- coming over the south side of the 10 freeway somewhere around San Vicente and Venice and seeing Dad's old office building come into view.  The tall black building with the "chimney" like stack on top, number 5455.  The building I spent every day home from school at with Daddy up on the 20th floor of his office, coloring at his desk, playing around in the studio, bouncing up and down the long hallways looking for entertainment.  All those visions came back when I saw that building as I ran past, and that was the first tear of the run.

Mile FOURTEEN - my threshold for running!!! I had never gone beyond, so every step after was the longest I had ever run before, which made every mile in itself a small accomplishment.  I didn't feel like I was going to die immediately after, so I knew I could probably keep going beyond.

Mile EIGHTEEN - suddenly that seemed like a HUGE number!!! and then there were only 8.2 more to go!

Mid-mile TWENTY / TWENTY-ONE - we're cruising 6th street then turned onto a pretty residential road to head up to 3rd when all of the sudden who do I see on my left walking against the tide of runners but my Mom and Dad decked out in Dodger blue.  What a rush!  I didn't think they'd make it or I didn't know where I may find them... but they were there with smiles and tears and hugs and encouragement.  It supercharged me for the final 5.2...

Mile TWENTY-ONE - I shot my last chocolate GU and with a mere 5 miles in the distance I blew Nellie a kiss goodbye and stretched my legs.  I blasted past Dad's office again, almost immediately after seeing him and the wave of tears was a bit stronger this time.  But the power from my body and mind, and Wicked's "Defying Gravity" blasting in my iPod shuffle, swiftly pushed me to 23.

Mile TWENTY-FOUR - close to death.  All of the sudden I'm thinking - WTF Anne, why did you use all your energy when you still have almost 3 miles to go?!!!! I literally thought my left leg was going to detach itself and fall somewhere on Olympic Blvd.  Additionally, this heaving sensation came on where I couldn't quite breath easy... maybe cause I had been singing or maybe I hadn't had enough water and maybe I pushed too hard -- but there was heaving, and burping, and I was sure some puking was in my near future.  I slowed down a bit, took a little longer walk-break, drank some water. Then picked up the pace again.

Mile TWENTY-FIVE - annoyed and in pain.  This stupid juggling runner kept creeping up next to me with his juggling balls and dropping them and then I'd pull ahead and then he'd be there again and I wanted to scream "get the hell away from me and go to the fucking circus if you want to run and do tricks!!!!!!!!!!!"  but I didn't because if I spoke I would have died.  And suddenly I see a running buddy of mine from my pace group, I catch up to him and he goes, "I'm dying." I was like, "me too."  I thought about sticking with him and walking, but I was afraid if I started to walk I wouldn't be able to run again and mile 26 was just around the corner.

Mile TWENTY-SIX - and then it was.  And when I turned the corner and saw that banner, with the FINISH line banner .2 miles in the distance beyond it, I started weeping.  I have no idea where the tears came from so strong, but I think a combination of the pain, the time, the distance, being so close to the end, being all by myself, it was so incredible.  And I wept huge salty tears down my already sweaty, red, salty face and ran straight through to the finish line.  As I crossed I heard a few people calling my name, a couple friends of friends and a coach from APLA who saw my name written on my shirt.  It felt nice, but was quiet.  Somewhere in the crowd my parents were said to be but I didn't see them, and they didn't see me.  Even though I didn't come in with a huge group of people and was probably the only 5'10 tall girl with a white hat and a face full of tears.  I clocked in at 5:41:25, (5:38:40 on my watch which I stopped for bathroom breaks).  And I placed #8,230 out of 14,192 people who finished the race.  

I feel amazing.  I feel in pain.  But I feel I could do it again in a heartbeat.  

I'm running a Marathon

I've pinned my bib to the hideous yellow "singlet" - I'm number 14650.  I've eaten copious amounts of carbohydrates (love guilt-free fettucini.)  I've laid out my shoes, shorts, sports bra, watch, shoe tags, and iPod shuffle which has been carefully crafted with melodies to sing me through the many many miles... I've even decorated my singlet with my name and a couple other special names in bright, red permanent marker.  I laid out my hat and a few flowers to stick in my ponytail for personal flair.  (why not right?)  I'm now lying in bed, willing sleep to come before my awakening at 4am, and I have NO IDEA what to expect tomorrow.  It's the most daunting, overwhelming, exciting, mysterious, scary, wonderful, humbling feeling.  It's reminiscent of the night before I left for Europe... I didn't really know where I was going to end up, who I would meet, how alone I would be, if I'd end up in any trouble.  It's also the feeling like before I went on stage in As You Like It last year... that nervous wonderful feeling of not knowing how the scene is going to turn out, and knowing I can do it and that I have my lines and everything down... but what if something trips me up and I mess up?  It's also like the night before I performed as the Lilac Fairy in Sleeping Beauty -- my last and best ballet performance ever.  I didn't know I wanted that part, I didn't think I would ever get it, and then I did, and the music was amazing and beautiful, and then it came time to perform.  And I remember curling up in the fetal position in my little twin bed the night before the show, trembling with nerves and feeling the lasting sting on my toes from that days rehearsal in pointe shoes, and envisioning myself rolling off my pointe when I piqued, or landing hard and wobbly out of a pirouette, or just falling ass first in the middle of the stage in my purple tutu.  Those scary, anxious feelings of the unknown... how will my body perform tomorrow?  How will my mind perform?  What will I think about?  What will I feel?  The "what-ifs" are endless.  And yet, here I find myself lying in bed put before a task that I set up for myself 8 months ago, and experiencing all those anxious feelings I've felt for tasks of my choice in the past -- and I get a little comfort in knowing, yeah, I made it through those experiences - and they were nothing less than fucking glorious.  So whose to say tomorrow won't be?  Here goes 26.2 miles.   

Dear Dodgers,

Thank you for making my Dad normal again.  If it wasn't for your spirit, your energy, your presence, your sportsmanship, your effort, your fun, your team... I wouldn't be able to experience a few beautiful hours with my "father-that-was."  This evening's game was truly an amazing escape and perspective.  Not only were we in a "help-me-FREE-zone" for more than 3 and half hours, but I had a night of actual hope.  Hope that I haven't had since I first made real eye contact with my Dad the day he opened his eyes from his coma.  That opening that made me see through the brain injured body and into the soul of David Nemer.  That happened tonight.  It happened when he cheered "OH YEAH!!!!!!!" for the triple home run hit by Casey Blake, it happened when he mustered the energy to STAND UP for the stupid wave!, it happened when he screamed, "WHOA! WHATTA CATCH!" to Eithier's awesome out, it happened when he enthusiastically sang "take me out to the ballgame" with his arm swung over my shoulder, and it happened when he offered up high fives to myself and the few fans around us when the Dodgers beat the Mets 5 to 3 at the end of the 9th.  It was all around wonderful.  Thank you Dear Dodgers, there's nothing blue about you.  I've always loved you since I was a baby sitting on my Dad's lap high up in the blue seats over home plate, but I love ya even more with each passing season.  Your best fan, Anne.

"Help Me" free zone

14 minutes + 2 and half hours and counting in the "no HELP ME zone."  yep -- a "help me" wasn't uttered for almost 3 hours straight and it was a beautiful amazing and releasing feeling.  We went to a little dinner party at a friends house and Dad was in his element.  Sipping wine slowly and observing and contributing to conversation where he could.  Speaking up when a familiar name was thrown in the mix or a personal memory present.  But overall, being quite normal and amazing.  Just quieter.  It was wonderful.  All i can say is thank you dear friends for relieving my Mom and me from the manipulative, needy, baby Father for three hours and experiencing a little slice of normalcy.  And bless you Dad for rising to the occasion.  It is possible.  and I don't want to kill you.  

recent resentment

Yes yes - my apologies for the lack of blogging over the past couple of weeks.  It's not to say I haven't been writing -- I have.  But I began something that I call "beyond the blog" which gets significantly more personal and detailed and I was inclined to document purely for future memoir purposes if that project in itself ever comes to fruition.  Nevertheless, there are multiple reasons for my lack of words these past few weeks.  I guess the one most significant reason is that I have hit a new phase in this journey - a very palpable, hideous, feeling that dominates most of my days - and that is resent.  Now this feeling, it gets you no where at the end of the day.  But in it's moment, I feel strong strong resentment for the situation I'm in and towards individuals around me, including my Dad.  It comes down to everything simply being not fucking fair.  Not fair that I've seen my father die once, and I miss that father, but I can't because there's this madman in his place, and I resent that the forces of love and life have not even let me grieve for my Dad, or for my grandmother, whose presence was at the forefront of my mind this past Sunday (Mother's day.)  And I'm over feeling sorry for myself... so in essence that transforms into resentment.  Not a very pleasing thing to read about I'm sure.

I guess then it's only fair that I give you another example as to what's been in my head and not on this blog.  I've become familiar with the mindset of that of a psychopath.  Because I myself feel like I could be a pychopath more than once a week - I find myself feeling so much anger that if I chose to could manifest physically.  That's all I'm going to say on that.  Don't think me crazy, yeah therapy is probably a good idea, but I feel too much resentment towards Robin at CNS to seek her guidance in dealing with this.  Can't trust her.  Also - I mean it's not so far off, parents want to kill their whining children every now and then right?  Well, I want to kill my whining father.  You would too if all you heard for three hours was "help me, help me Robin, help me. help me. help me. help me pleeeeease. help me. help me.  help me robin help me.  help me pleeeeeeease"  SHUT UP!   I ran six miles yesterday by accident just to escape for an indefinite amount of time.    

Again let me conclude by saying the obvious that no I will not ever harm my father, and no I am not going to go crazy and become a pyschopath.  I feel a little crass and bitchy and selfish sharing this information with you, but in essence that's why I haven't written, and that's where I stand. make of it what you will and go on with your day.  We'll put these feelings aside because anger and resentment make no progress in life, and at the end of the day I'm still a happy, positive person.  I'm also a very talented actress if you haven't already observed.  :)