Last practice today at the Rose Bowl. Coaches, support staff and a few Phoenix runners proudly wore their medals for our 3-mile victory stroll in the drizzly rain.This team was assembled ala carte at information meetings held last summer in Arcadia and Pasadena, in libraries, and REIs; people joined who had relatives and friends suffering from leukemia, while others just wanted to sample marathon running. The team ranged in age from 70-year-old walkers to 20-something cheetahs who ran fast enough to peel paint off cars. Training started August 9th, with temperatures in the 80s. Looking back at photos on the team website, there are faces I hardly recognize, drop-outs after a few practices. It seems longer ago than it really was.
As teams go, the 2008/09 San Gabriel Valley Team in Training Winter Team sustained more than its share of injuries. Not only first-timers overdoing it, but many coaches and mentors also sustained various levels of ouch. Some dings healed, while others nagged. How injuries might behave race day lay on the minds of Phoenix full and half-marathoners last Sunday.
Beautiful race weather in the Valley of the Sun, 40s in the early morning, reaching the 70s by mid-afternoon. I was getting over an illness, hadn't slept well, and hadn't spent a great deal of time on my feet running or walking in five months. So I figured to bounce around the course using the brand new, fresh-out-of-the-box, light rail system.
At 7:40 AM, the marathon surged off, all seven thousand strong (with 22,000 running the half-marathon an hour later). I took the Metro east to 44th St. and walked north to reach the marathon half-way point. I passed a TNT couple stranded on 44th by an oafish cab driver who'd told them it was the half-marathon start line. They hailed another cab, but I'm not sure if that was good. Hopefully, they didn't end up in New Mexico.Walking up to mile 14, I started back along the course to intercept one of our walkers who might need help making the cut-off. (If you're not across the 13.1 mile mat in 4 hours, they pack it up, put it back in the crate, and you're out of the race.)
A steel band near the 13-mile marker struck up a peppy version of "Brazil." Shortly after, the marathon pace convertible cruised by, filled with passengers who sprawled as if they'd been drinking all night, languidly waving to onlookers. Behind the pace car came an open truck jammed with photographers, looking like tourist cattle. They, in turn, were followed by a pack of hard-running Kenyans. I'd found the race.
Kenyans were followed by a few very fast guys, then a few more, then three very fast guys running together, then the lead pack of women runners, a few very fast women running solo, regular fast men and women with lots of space between them, then the first pacer holding up a red 3:00 hour sign, behind which surged the running masses.
Kenyans were followed by a few very fast guys, then a few more, then three very fast guys running together, then the lead pack of women runners, a few very fast women running solo, regular fast men and women with lots of space between them, then the first pacer holding up a red 3:00 hour sign, behind which surged the running masses.Around mile 10, I found our walker, Kim, moving at a good pace. (I checked behind, looking for the sweeper truck. All clear for now.) Though a kind, energetic person, Kim has a laugh like a Halloween witch. And loud. She'd cut loose every now and then and it would startle me like a bucket of ice pitched over my head. Coach Dave arrived and convinced a group of teenage cheerleaders to yell, "Go Kim Possible!" They did, Kim laughed, and I jumped.
We made the cut-off, but not by much. As Kim followed the marathon down Oak Street, street crews were already plucking up orange traffic cones prior to reopening 44th. I saw a huge street sweeper advancing along the marathon route, yellow lights whirling, gobbling up discarded water cups like a jumbo Pac Man.
Heading back down 44th, I passed through the half-marathon, jumped back on the train, and headed for mile 25 near Sun Devil Stadium in Tempe.
Steve, Brittany, Inez, Vanessa, Lindsey, Hutch, Elizabeth, Caroline, Roman, one after the other, I ran or walked them to the finish line. Elizabeth was a trip. She wanted to run fast and break 5:30, stop and quit, or walk in all at the same time. (I think she broke 5:30.)
Many had been injured during the season, reinjured during the marathon, but all made a commitment to themselves to finish no matter what.
By the time C.J. shuffled past, I was spent. Our campaign manager Tiffany was cheering everyone in around mile 26. I found a flat rock near her and sat down. Kim finally made it past near the 8:00 hour mark. The staff packed it in. A few of us caught the train back to our hotel. I was out cold early.
Heading back down 44th, I passed through the half-marathon, jumped back on the train, and headed for mile 25 near Sun Devil Stadium in Tempe.
Steve, Brittany, Inez, Vanessa, Lindsey, Hutch, Elizabeth, Caroline, Roman, one after the other, I ran or walked them to the finish line. Elizabeth was a trip. She wanted to run fast and break 5:30, stop and quit, or walk in all at the same time. (I think she broke 5:30.)
Many had been injured during the season, reinjured during the marathon, but all made a commitment to themselves to finish no matter what.
By the time C.J. shuffled past, I was spent. Our campaign manager Tiffany was cheering everyone in around mile 26. I found a flat rock near her and sat down. Kim finally made it past near the 8:00 hour mark. The staff packed it in. A few of us caught the train back to our hotel. I was out cold early.
Our victory walk ended back in the parking lot of the Aquatic Center. There was a brief moment where a few participants and the core of coaches and mentors stood in a circle, trading final marathon stories. But Tiffany, Dave, Karla and Pete all needed to attend an information meeting and recruit new members. (First practice for the summer season is next Saturday.) They split. A few others went to breakfast, and the rest strolled to their cars in twos and threes as the Winter Team dissolved for the last time. All that remains are memories, photos and medals, soon to be hanging on closet hooks.
Other matters call, so I won't be a part of Summer 2009. But if circumstances permit, I'd like to marathon coach again. Seeing regular guys and gals rise to the challenge of the distance inspires me in the face of my own adversities.Now if I could only run again . . . .
