Where Brooklyn At?

Yesterday I completed my first 1/2 marathon, 13.1 miles! I have to admit it's a bittersweet accomplishment, as the first 5 minutes after I did it, I was proud of myself. However, from the time it took me to walk to my car to drive home, I was thinking, "so, what next?" My training and exercising all done in a mere 2 hours? NYC Marathon here I come! I have to be completely honest, for the past 3 years, I have signed for the NYC Marathon lottery and each year when my name wasn't drawn, I would let out a sigh of relief. Phew! Why in the world would I want to run 26.2 miles? However, after yesterday, and completing 1/2 of a marathon, I realized that my next goal is to conquer 26 miles. It's really all about feeling some sort of sense of accomplishment.

I signed up for the Brooklyn 1/2 marathon a few months ago. I had become lazy in my workout routine and needed something to motivate me. Nothing like running 13.1 miles to get your ass motivated! I immediately logged on to NY Road Runner's.com to find a training schedule, one for beginners. And I have to admit, I followed it almost exactly. Sure there were a few days that I skipped running due to work or a prior engagement, but I always ran the amount I was supposed to run. UNTIL 2 weeks ago when I started having excruciating pain in my right knee. Such pain that it would shoot down to my toes and make my calf go numb. Everything online said to REST, REST, REST. Rest? I can't rest, I have 13.1 miles to run in 2 weeks and dammit I'm going to do it! Instead of resting I cut back on the mileage they were recommending, running only 6-7 miles instead of 9-10. Needless to say, running these distances, did not help my knee. A friend of mine told me it was an IT injury, he had the same injury before, knew all of the symptoms and gave me a few stretches to help it. One included a rolling pin. So the night before the race, I laid in bed taking a rolling pin up and down to my IT band thinking this was going to solve my problems. Time would only tell.

Saturday morning, 4:59 a.m. my alarm clock goes off. I hop in the shower, throw my running gear on, kiss my husband goodbye, and tell him if I die on the course I hope he knows how much I love him. I make my way to Brooklyn and the whole way there I think of copping out and not running the race. How would anyone know? I'm going by myself, I'm not running with anyone, and no one is coming to the race to watch me, so who would know if I didn't actually run? ME! That's who would know. I continue my drive and secretly hope I get lost and miss the race, that would be a legit excuse. No such luck. My GPS does a perfect job navigating my car to Key Span Park, the lot outside Coney Island where runners are to park and take the bus to Prospect Park for the start of the race. I grab my cell phone (in case I need to call 911), my car keys, and my iPod and hop on the school bus (yes I said school bus) to take me to the start of the race. The bus is almost full and I have my own seat, which is good because, one, my knees are crammed up to my chest, and two, I don't feel like hamming it up with the other runners. Until, a large man, large meaning tall, not fat, approaches me and says, "is this seat taken?" I wanted to say, "yes, loser, it is taken and nice pick-up line", but instead I tell him the seat is all his. Immediately the guy starts talking to me. "Great. Why is he talking to me? Doesn't my body language tell him I want to be left alone?" However I start to warm up to the guy as we pass the water where low tide is in effect, and he says, "did you just pass gas?" I was so taken aback and shocked, but he started laughing and said, "kidding". I found his humor odd and slightly disgusting and in turn found the guy sitting next to me my new friend. We chatted the whole way to Prospect Park. We made fun of the 2 people sitting next to us who were talking about how fast they were going to run the race. We joked about all the people who wear 'real runners gear' and how they probably make fun of us runners who wear cotton. We laughed at the fact the website said everyone has a 3 hour time limit and after the 3 hours there will be no more medical staff or drinking stations and how we prayed we would make it under 3 hours. Once at the park, he guided me in the right direction of the start line, we shook each other's hands, wished each other the best of luck, and made our separate ways to our numbered areas. I was so happy to have met Stan, that was his name, as he relaxed me and made me realize there are other people out there, just like me, who are beginner runners too.

My bib number was 11654. It was the last numbered section in line, actually I didn't even have a numbered section, mine was just called 9000+. It might as well have said, 'the slow people'. The race kicked off with a mediocre rendition of the Star Spangled Banner and at 8:20 a.m. (race started at 8, that's how long it took me just to get to the start line) I started my first 1/2 marathon. I was pumped, the adrenaline was pulsing through my veins like crazy, but I was determined to start off slow, I didn't want to waste all of my energy at the beginning of the race. Miles 1-3 were easy and smooth sailing and surprisingly, no pain in my knee! (It must have been the rolling pin.) But miles 4-6 were a repeat of miles 1-3 and I found myself getting bored of the park, I needed new terrain. At mile 7 I got what I wanted, Ocean Parkway! I also got a shooting pain in my knee, but I didn't let it get me down. I was so excited to cruise down Ocean Parkway for the next 6 miles that I tried not to focus on my knee. The next few miles cruised by and I was enjoying the Brooklyn scenery. I found it very amusing that certain cars stuck at traffic lights because the roads were blocked off, were yelling and cursing at the runners. I also found it very amusing at cross walks, again where the roads were blocked off, certain people would try to dodge in and out of the 11,800 runners to cross the street. The old Indian woman carrying a tray of some kind of food was the funniest, and I even slowed down to let her pass as I thought her courage to cross was admirable.

At mile 10.5 a runner passing me tells me my shoe is untied. I stop alongside the road to tie it and once I stand up, ccrraaaaassshhhh, my body felt like it hit a wall. I mean my legs turned to concrete and it felt as if a 10 ton elephant was standing on my shoulders. I thought, "this is it. this is where I fall to the ground because I can't run anymore and I get trampled by the rest of the pack behind me." I started running again as best as I could and gradually picked the pace back up at mile 11 when I realized I only had 2 more miles to go. Mile 12 came in no time and the last mile was the best. It was a gorgeous path along the shoreline, down the boardwalk of Coney Island (where I saw some girl take a face plant), and up to Key Span Park where I completed my first 1/2 marathon! What a feeling. It may sound over-dramatic, but I can't even describe the feeling once I crossed the finish line. I actually felt proud of myself, and I NEVER feel proud of myself. It was a feeling that I haven't ever experienced before and that in itself was worth the pain and suffering of the 13.1 miles.

Up next, 10K in Central Park this Sunday. Running is an addiction and I have an addictive personality.

Mother's Day.

My mother lost a battle to cancer 7 1/2 years ago and died. I firmly believe I haven't recovered from it and firmly believe I won't ever recover. Yesterday was Mother's Day. I woke up in the morning with an emptiness in my stomach. I missed her. What's funny, is growing up we never did anything extravagant to celebrate Mother's Day. It was still a guy's day. I remember my Dad playing golf with my uncle and my grandpa while my mom was stuck entertaining my brother and me. I particularly remember one year my mother had the entire family over, my 2 grandparents, and my dad's brother's family, for a full turkey dinner (Thanksgiving in May). She cooked the entire day while my dad played golf and none of us thought anything of it. So it's not like Mother's Day brings back great memories of me spending time with my mom. It's now just a day that reminds me I don't have a mother.


To take my mind off of things, I went into the city and did a nice long run in Central Park. Training for a half marathon, running 7 miles, is not my idea of a good time, but my run was quite enjoyable. It was a gorgeous Spring day and while running through the park, seeing the trees and flowers in full bloom I thought of my mom. Thought of how much I missed her and wondered what she thinks of me now.

In the afternoon, my husband and I took his parents to the Mets game. It was what his mother wanted to do for Mother's Day. It was quite enjoyable, like I said the weather was great, the game was fun, and the Mets won! My cousin Libby had left me a voicemail during the game letting me know she and her son Carter went to my mom's grave and told her how much they missed her and loved her. She said there were quite a few fresh bouquets of flowers on my mom's grave, people must have visited her. Later I spoke to my Aunt who also said she went to see my mom's grave and lastly I spoke to my father who went to see my mom. Everyone misses her. I swear the family hasn't been the same since she died.

I still can't help but wonder what my mother thinks of me now, what I have made of myself. I remember shortly after she died I used to pray to GOD to give me some kind of sign from my mother. Some kind of something showing me that she approved, that she loved me and that she missed me too. I never got the sign I was looking for; my mother never came to me at night and spoke to me nor did I ever see visions of her. However, now I look for the small stuff, like the day my husband and I got married, it was raining the day prior and very gray and cloudy the morning of the wedding. I sat outside on our hotel room balcony and started talking to her, told her how much I missed her and at that very moment, the clouds parted and the sun came out, I knew she was there with me. I wish I had more of those perfect moments, but I take them as they come.

Recently I have been struggling with the definition of happiness. What is it and is happiness really a thing? I've come to the conclusion, no. Happiness is an emotion, it's not a state of life. It's like the shrink game you play. "I feel happy when"... I'm on the beach, or when I'm playing with my dog, or when I'm with my husband, or when I'm eating Mexican food and drinking a margarita. However, am I happy? No. I'll never truly be happy. People that tell you they are honestly happy, are lying or faking it. I compare it to when someone asks me how my day is. I say, "fine" even if I had the worst day of my life, because you know what? I don't think the person that asked me the question really wants to know the answer. Everyone is in a state of disillusionment where they don't want to know about the bad, they only want to see and hear the good. People need to see and hear the good to make themselves feel better. I know that, and that's why I'll always nod my head and tell people I'm fine, I'm happy, and maybe one day I'll get there. Now, I don't see it happening. How can it when the most important person in my life for 22 years is no longer here? People say, "Well, maybe you're not happy because something is missing in your life." Well, they're right, there is something missing, and it's my mom, she's dead, and never coming back. So tell me what you think I should do to solve that one? Move on? I'm trying. It's been 7 1/2 years and I still miss her like she died yesterday. I still don't have a memory of her without her being sick and I still think there was something I could have done better to show her how much I loved her.

Time eases all pain...I'm waiting....