There has been a lot of commentary over the last few days on this blog. There has been a lot of back and forth and even some questioning about where I stand in all of this and why I haven't said anything in regard to the comments that have been made.
I have refrained from making any comment about the comments myself because, well, I consider all of you not only adults, but friends. And I expect all of you to be able to work it out among yourselves and that you do not need me to monitor the playground.
I understand that the emotional outpouring I have shared over the last few days here on my blog has certainly provided a catalyst for many of you. I know that there are buttons that are being pushed. That there are those of you who have been through similar situations and have very passionate feelings or, yes, even wounds, about this very issue. Or an issue quite similar. Because, dear readers, let's face it. Each of us must travel our own path and our experiences are all unique. There may be very striking similarities, but my shoes do not fit the vast majority of you (of that I can be almost certain) and since my path is not your path, while my experience feels so very familiar and is bringing up long forgotten hurts for you, I must suffer my hurts just the same.
On Sunday, I chose to participate in the Nike Women's Marathon. I chose to attempt to complete 26.2 miles in what I kept assuring myself was just a simple stroll around San Francisco. Despite the horrific week I had had prior that had been composed of vomit and diarrhea and a visit to Urgent Care because I was certain I was going to off myself completely, I decided, no truthfully, I was determined to go to San Francisco and finish that marathon. In my head, which I admit may have been warped thinking, if I didn't go and if I didn't finish, Dave won. And I wasn't going to let Dave win.
As my friend, Dr. Suz, and I were driving to San Francisco on Saturday afternoon, she informed me that she had emailed Grace Davis (of the comments) and asked her to come and meet us at the finish line of the race. This was the first I had learned of this, so I immediately called Grace and asked her if it was true. "Of course I will be there," Grace said. "Malcolm and I will be there with the camera. And flip flops and all kinds of things that you will need. Do not worry. I will be there."
At that moment, I got quite teary. I had Dr. Suz in my corner, but now I had Grace waiting for me at the finish. With flip flops. And other things I might need. I had a support team. I could do this.
We spent Saturday afternoon at the Nike Expo getting our "stuff and schwag" and then scouring Macy's of all places for some running socks. I had brought running socks, but figured I needed "other" running socks. I found some that were a tad cushier than those that I had brought and figured they would do. With that purchase we headed over the Moscone Center for the Team In Training Pasta Party.
Now people, let's remember that I have no eaten anything substantial since Monday when Dave dropped the bomb. Nada. I have been literally living on fumes and water. I kept thinking that I must stay hydrated so I drank water and more water and more water. At the pasta party dinner I ate pesto pasta and lots of vegetables. And a banana. And promptly redeposited it when we got to the hotel. Oh well. Surely some of it had stayed in my body, right?
Dr. Suz and I pretty much went straight to bed since we had to be in the lobby to meet the Team in Training folks at 4:00 a.m.
3:30 a.m. came very quickly. I awoke and was feeling okay. Not great. Not horrible. I managed to eat one of my own home made power bars and then drank some home made electrolyte juice. And I took my vitamins. Because I always take my vitamins. Got dressed and we headed for the lobby.
Our start was at 5:30 a.m. It was dark. It wasn't too cold. But I wasn't awake. At all. I did quite a few sun salutations to try and warm my body up and stretch out all the muscle groups. My body felt flexible. It felt ready. It felt good.
So we started walking. I honestly can tell you that I think I slept walked through the first five miles. It wasn't until we hit the Presidio hill and the Elite runners were starting to pass us that I actually felt my body shift and I felt like I was "in" it. Until then, I was somewhere way outside my body looking down. Watching it. Observing it. And I was fighting nausea big time. Every time we would stop at a port-a-potty (and we stopped quite frequently) I would throw up and then pee. There was nothing to throw up, of course, but this biley liquid would come out and somehow I would feel just a tad better.
When we got to Mile 6, the Presidio Hill, we were met by our coach, Denise. She asked how we were doing? I told her that I felt okay. Not great, but okay. She walked with us up the hill. Honestly, the hill was not that bad. All that worry over that hill? We shouldn't have worried. Dr. Suz and I chose to actually run down the other side of it to make up some time and that actually felt good, but soon after that I found myself needing another port-a-potty. Vomit, pee, oh yeah. From Mile 7 to Mile 9 seemed to take forever. And it was on this very gentle incline. That, in reality, was worse than the Presidio hill. Because it fucked with your head. It all seemed flat and easy, but you were slowly going up. up. up. and you had no landmarks. Somewhere in there my phone rang. It was Dave! Which was really surreal for me. He said he was calling to wish me luck. I really appreciated that he was doing that, but my head wasn't in a space to really connect with all of it. The whole thing felt just surreal.
And then we were at Mile 10. Which was at the Cliff House. And the top of the Great Highway. We both chose to run all the way to the bottom which was so exhilarating. Honestly, I think this was the BEST that I felt all day. I just ran and ran and ran. And I cried and cried and cried. There were real tears streaming down my face. I'm not even sure why.
When we reached the bottom, we headed into Golden Gate Park. There were folks handing out bananas and I grabbed one. I don't even like bananas, but I really felt my body needed it. I gobbled it down, and knew right away this was a mistake. I told Dr. Suz shortly afterwards that I needed another port-a-potty. In my head I just kept saying, "Just breathe. Keep breathing. You can do this!" I think we finally found a set of them at Mile 13. Puke, Piss, Pray. At this point I was begging Clyde Fairy to please help me make it. Please. We were only half way finished and I was not feeling well at all.
This section of the marathon really fucks with your head, too. You go into Golden Gate Park and as you're going in, you're seeing lots of people coming out. Lots and lots of people. And it is really defeating. You know all those people are in front of you. And you have no idea how far they've already gone or how far you have to go or where on earth you're ever going to turn around. You just have to keep going. And going. And going. And eventually you get to a little horseshoe turnaround area where you do the hokey pokey and you turn yourself around, but instead of that being what it's all about you go right back where you just were! It's a mind fuck, let me tell you.
Dr. Suz and I started making deals with each other. Oh look, that mile wasn't that hard. We just have to do 13 more of those. We can easily do 13 more of those, right? Right! Of course we can. We can do anything!!
When we exited the park, some of our teammates were standing there with signs and hugs and the most beautiful smiles two struggling marathoners could ever hope to see. Again, I burst into tears. My foot, at this point, was burning beyond measure. I had developed some huge blister on top of another blister so that the entire ball of my left foot was one massive blistered mess. But I didn't want to do anything about it, really, because I figured it would just make it hurt even more.
Dr. Suz and I were now on the Great Highway. Which, when we were discussing this marathon in the early days, we thought would be lovely. A walk along the ocean. We do that all the time in Santa Cruz. But now, again, it just felt like torture. Because this route was again one where you went out and came back. So while we were just heading out there were all these others who were coming back...to the finish line. A place we so longed to be, but we had 9 miles to go before we'd ever get there.
About this time Grace Davis called for the first time. She asked me where we were. We were just passing Mile 18. She screamed and told me how awesome we were and that we were doing it, we were goddesses, we rocked! Her enthusiasm was quite contagious and for a moment I really believed her. Then I told her I wanted to vomit and she told me that throwing up was a good idea. Well, okay!
But it was shortly after I hung up the phone with Grace that I entered into a very strange place. A parallel universe. A Dali painting. Words suddenly had color. Sounds suddenly had shapes. I could see through walls. And everything was slipping and sliding and nothing felt as it should be.
I mentioned to Dr. Suz that I didn't think I could make it. That I was in a scary place. She asked me if I needed to stretch? Oh yes, stretch. Perhaps if I stretched. So I stretched. And then found another port-a-potty and wretched. And drank lots more water. Always more water. I drank and drank and drank. Water.Water.Water.
But with each step, life became more grueling. I was quickly losing touch with reality. And I knew it. However, I did not want to let Dr. Suz down. I certainly didn't want to let all those people who had sponsored me down. And I didn't want to let Dave win. I know it sounds completely irrational and stupid and insane. I know this. But I couldn't not finish. I could not allow him telling me he was leaving me to be the reason I did not finish this marathon. I.do.not.quit. Not on my marriage, not on my dogs, not on the marathon.
We kept going. The course took us all the way around Lake Merced. I do not care if I ever walk around Lake Merced again. Each mile that we walked around the Lake took progressively longer and longer. Grace would call and ask where we were and I would tell her we had just passed Mile 20. Then 21. Then 22. Then 23. Finally, we were at Mile 24 and we were back on the Great Highway. Going back the way we had come. I was having to stop every twenty-five feet or so just to regain my balance and sense of reality. The world was spinning without me and I was literally just trying to stay on it.
And then, up ahead, there in the distance, was Grace. Like an angel she was standing there with Malcolm the wonder dog. And when I saw her I started sobbing like a baby. And she started hollering like a banshee. "THESE ARE MY FRIENDS! CHEER FOR MY FRIENDS!!! LOOK AT MY FRIENDS!!!!" It was awesome. She checked in with us and asked us what she could do to help us get over the finish line. She gave me more water. She held me up, literally. And she walked with me, step by step, all the way to to the finish line all the while shouting, "CONGRATULATE JEN AND SUZ!! THEY ARE MARATHONERS!!!"
Our Team in Training coaches and staff were waiting for us at the finish line and when I told them I needed to go to the Medical Tent they escorted me there right away. But Grace did not leave my side. People, let me tell you this. If you ever decide to do a marathon or perhaps have a baby or perhaps get married or maybe just, um, oh I don't know, throw a protest....you want GRACE DAVIS on your support team. That woman is an angel, a goddess, a pit bull and your very best friend all rolled into one.
The Medics were not quite sure what to do with me. I sat down and instantly turned blue. The doctor took my pulse and looked at me and said, "You just finished a marathon. Your pulse is 60. That can't be right. Let me take it again." He took it again. "Um, it's 60. Wow! Let me take your blood pressure." "Wow. It's 110/70 Did you really just finish??"
"Yes, I just finished."
"So, you've been throwing up the whole race?"
"Yes. Actually, all week."
"Oh, so you had the flu this week?"
"Um, no, not really. On Monday, my husband told me he was done with our marriage. I started throwing up that night. And I had diarrhea. On Wednesday I went to Urgent Care because I was feeling pretty suicidal. But I had to do this marathon. Because if I didn't do it, then it would be because of him. And he's already screwed enough things up. I can't not do the marathon because of him! So I did it. And I was determined to finish!"
"Woah. Um, okay. You are one determined woman! Can we get a sodium reading on her?"
So they tried to get a sodium reading. But my veins had collapsed. But they did managed to figure out that I actually had hyponatremia and that I had actually been over-hydrating through out the marathon. Because of my week of not eating and vomiting and diarrhea, my bodies electrolytes and sodium levels were all screwed up. And because I was already an epilepsy patient, my brain was a tad more sensitive than the rest.
The good news, though, is that I had Grace Davis as my support team. Really. Once those medics were ready to release me, Grace took over and boy did she take over. Big time. Remember what I said about having Grace on your team? I mean it. You really want her on your team!
I have never felt so loved, so cared for, so enveloped in warm cozy love as I was in the hours following the marathon when she was determined to make sure that I was okay. She got me an ice bath to make sure my muscles didn't seize. She got me lovely miso soup to try and help bring my body back into balance. She got me special juice. She got me pretzels. She provided therapy! She was just, in a word, a Marathon Mom.
I do not know that I will ever be able to repay her for all of her kindness on that day and the day that followed. I do know that Grace knows how very much I love her and that there isn't anything I would not do for her in return. Anything.at.all.
I finished the Nike Marathon on October 21, 2007. It was not pretty. It was not done well. I almost killed myself in my attempt. Marathons are excellent metaphors for life. What I proved is that I can do it under the most extreme circumstances and cross the finish line. And knowing that, well, I know that I can survive anything life throws my way.
So bring it on.
