I Did The Rock 'n' Roll!

I did it!

I did it! I finished my first half-marathon at the Dodge San Diego Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon & 1/2. Mostly, I just wanted to finish, and to accomplish the goal that I had set for myself.

I was feeling really good for what I thought was the first five miles... and then I saw the freakin’ three-mile marker! I hate when that happens.

32,000 Runners

The run was absolutely gorgeous, though, which helps a lot when you’re tired. I think miles 8 – 9 were the hardest, but I knew I was going to finish when I hit the ten mile marker. Somehow, knowing there are only three miles to go helps a lot. I tell myself that I’ve just done ten miles, so I can certainly do three more.

I’ve heard runners talk about the proverbial wall that you hit at some point during a long run. When I saw the mile twelve marker and looked over toward Sea World where the finish line was, and I hoped against hope that somehow I really wouldn’t have to run ALL the way over there, that’s when I hit the wall.

But real runners don’t give up, I reminded myself. I even told myself that I could walk the last mile if I wanted to – a lot of people were walking that last mile. But I was really just ready for the “race” to be over, and so I kept on running!

And the cheerleaders lined along the road are AWESOME! Here are some of the signs they held up to encourage us to keep going:

·         Left Foot, Right Foot, Left Foot (very helpful, in case you somehow forgot what you were doing! I can see how that can happen).

·         Run like you just stole something.

·         Why are all those people following you? (When you’re my age, knowing that people are actually behind you – which means you’re in front of them...yeah, that helps).

·         Run like a Kenyan (I Wish).

·         Mortuary ahead, look alive! (probably the best advice I saw).

·         The end is near (when someone dressed as the grim reaper is holding this sign...).

·         Your feet are hurting because you’re kicking so much ass.

·         That’s not sweat, those are your fat cells crying.

·         Great stamina, call me (for those singles out there).

AND they clap and yell cheers for you as you’re going by.

But the best part of the whole thing? The incredible support I’ve received! My sister Donna carted me all over San Diego. Friends and family tracked my progress on Competitor Wireless, three of my friends (Kirk, Jayme, Angie) say that I’ve inspired them to run the Rock ‘n’ Roll next year!

And I can’t forget the awesome cake. My niece Alyssa spent four hours making a cake from scratch, just for me – isn’t it awesome?! And totally yummy!

Are You There, God? It's Me, Gwen.

Dear God,

Why did you give me bad genes?  I thought you treated all of your children equally.  I thought you loved all of your children the same!  But it isn’t true – you have your favorites!  You love Allan more than me!  *Sniff*. 

Allan (my husband) eats bacon, eggs and toast with butter and jam every morning.  He eats fried spam and corned beef hash.  He eats canned chili for lunch – do you know how much saturated fat is in a can of chili?  He makes fried eggs sandwiches for midday or late evening snacks.  He salts everything in sight.  His blood pressure and cholesterol are fine.  He drags trees home every day and chops them up.  He runs the dogs five times a day.   He’s tall and lean and doesn’t gain an ounce!   It just isn’t fair, God.  *Whine*. 

You can’t possibly love me as much as you love him.  You gave me terrible genes.  I can’t eat any of the things he eats.  If I even smell a piece of bacon frying, my butt starts to grow and the buttons on my jeans pop off under pressure.  I don’t eat bacon, I don’t eat eggs, and I definitely don’t eat spam.  *gags*.  I eat oatmeal, healthy cereal, non-fat and low fat everything.  I eat chicken breast.    

When it’s Allan’s turn to cook dinner, he fries pork chops and calls it sauté.  When it’s my turn to make dinner, he asks what kind of chicken breast I’m making.  Like I only make chicken breast or something?!  I don’t only make chicken breast!  I make um, uh, ah ...other things, too.  Yes, you blessed him with wit and a stupid good sense of humor, too. 

You, Dear Father, also have a good sense of humor, albeit a little cruel, I might add.  The joke fell flat.  You know that I love chocolate and candy and dessert in general.  But of course I can’t eat any of it because of my weight and high cholesterol – You went just a little too far.  Just sayin’, Father, a child knows when I’m she is not the favorite. 

Now, you wouldn’t want a child of yours to think that you’re partial, would you?  So here’s what I’m prepared to do; I’m going to give you the chance to make it up to me.  If you take it all back, and bless me with good genes too, I’ll forgive your cruel little joke and never mention it again.

Amen. 

(P.S., Happy Birthday, Allan!  I love you, and I’m very jealous happy that you have good genes!).