wish you were here

This whole thing is Scott’s fault. But I guess I owed him. No, not guess. I did.

I trained using Hal Higdon’s program online. It’s a 12-week program, but I’d given myself way more than that– more like 16 weeks. At least I’d have those 4 weeks to pad it.

Right. So training in the past month was sketchy at best as far as results: I couldn’t run the solid 5 miles I was killing over the summer. My long runs on Saturdays were getting only slightly better, and my attempt at a 9 mile run 2 weeks before the race fell short about 2 miles. I was getting nervous about how my time was going to be. I’d set a goal for 3 hours, thinking I was going to be a little over.

Aaron drove Scott down, and I followed. It’s been the good luck tradition for 4 years now. Took the tram from Excalibur to the Mandalay Bay, found Scott and we walked to the start line together. It started to feel like a full circle, talking about a few of our memories from the past 5 years we’ve known each other here in Vegas.

At the corral behind the start line, sure it was a feeling of excitement, but that word is so overused and dumb. It’s bigger than that, with a dash of Robin Leach and fireworks mixed in.

We started at Mandalay Bay, right before the sun came up, and the first 6 miles were being run basically down the Strip to Downtown.

I ran past where Dad’s first bar, This Is It! used to be. Ran past Planet Hollywood, where I saw my first concert when it was The Aladdin. Ran past Caesar’s Palace, where I’d seen ice skaters with Mom. Ran past The Frontier, where Dad used to work. Ran past the Treasure Island, where we had that crazy night at Tangerine. Ran past where Wet ‘N Wild used to be. Ran past Circus Circus, where I used to go with Mom and Dad and Sean. So many memories of this street, and even when it was all empty lots and implosions. I thought about all the weird shit I’ve seen there and all over this town. All the 30 years I’ve been in and out of this place, in other countries or even just across town from home. I kept my head up and looked. And remembered.

And I ran to 10 miles. Stopped at every water station for a couple of cups and kept going. I walked 11 pretty quickly, ran/walked 12, and pushed through 13.1.

And Scott said that when you come around that last corner on Frank Sinatra drive, you’ll never forget it. Which is true.

And the green numbers of the timer told me I was coming in at 2:54, which was going to be more than my official chip time. I couldn’t believe that I’d made it that far.

But really, I’ll remember all 13.1 goddamn miles, because you know what? My brother was standing there at the finish line. Literally. He and his girlfriend Kourtny and our friend Tammy were there with huge hugs and a bucket of Guinness for us, having slipped past the barricades to stand in the staging area. I almost lost it.

And everyone asked me how it went. Even people I didn’t think knew or cared, they’d asked me. I’m keeping my medal in my purse for awhile.