I approached the Race for Hope 5k as a warm-up for the next day's Saratoga Palio 5k. The Race for Hope wound through a neighborhood in Bethlehem and included two long hills. My plan was to turn on my iPod and alternate running and walking: run for one song, walk for the next, and repeat the process until I crossed the finish line. But a strange thing happened during this race: the deliberately slow pace I set for myself (about a 14-minute mile) managed to make me "forget" I was running. (Granted, for most people, a 14-minute mile is a brisk walk; for me, it's a jog.) As a result, I didn't even remember to slow down to a walk until the fourth song (The Neville Brothers' "Tell It Like It Is"). After that, I started running again and didn't slow to a walk again until after the two-mile mark; and the second walk was only about a minute or so. I crossed the finish line at an intentionally snail-like :42. I actually felt comfortable running the whole time. What a concept.
I have a confession to make: I almost didn't go to the race. I was so tired the night before that I kept trying to read the same paragraph in
Eat, Pray, Love about half a dozen times until I realized that the reason I couldn't follow the paragraph was because I kept dozing off. (That should not be construed as a criticism of the book; I'm really quite enjoying it, and purposefully limiting myself to one chapter a night. But last night, I was so tired that I only managed about half a chapter.) When I woke up Saturday morning, I actually had to argue with myself to get out of bed. I didn't want to run. So what got my lazy heinie out of bed, into my running clothes, and off to Bethlehem? Was it athletic discipline? Was it my drive to excel?
Well, um...
no. It was someone else.
The Race for Hope Benefitted Capital Region Special Surgery (part of St. Peter's Hospital Foundation) and Ronald McDonald Charities of the Capital Region. Thanks to the generosity of my family and friends, I raised $220 for this fundraiser. THAT'S who got my lazy heinie out of bed. YOU did.
All I had to do was show up; the people who supported me already showed up, by making generous donations when I asked. It always feels strange to me, asking people for money, even for a good cause. I don't want to pester people, and especially in the current financial climate, a lot of folks are just scraping by just with the essentials. Perhaps fundraising would be a lot easier if I were acquainted with scores of millionaires, but I'm not. And frankly, nothing against folks who can contribute huge amounts of money to a worthy cause, but I actually value the "smaller" sacrifices of ordinary folks much more. Whatever the amount—$5, $10, $25—it's not the size of the donation that matters; it's the breadth of the response. I have about 185 Facebook friends, a small circle of "real-life" friends (many of whom are on Facebook) and a lot of people I know from church and work. For the sake of argument, let's say I have 200 friends and acquaintances. If each of them donated five bucks—the cost of a venti latte or a doughnut and coffee—that would be $1,000. Granted, not everyone would be able to donate; but some folks would be able to donate more than $5. When I look at it that way, it's really not so difficult. But at the same time, as one of my Shakespearean monologues goes, "I am not furnished like a beggar, therefore to beg will not become me."
I am also running the Komen Race for the Cure the first Saturday in October, to benefit the Susan G. Komen foundation. If you're reading this before October 2010, I hope you'll consider
supporting the Komen foundation through my donation site. I have set a modest fundraising goal of $250. And wonderful as large donations are, I would be thrilled to raise even a buck or two from everyone I know. For the Komen, I'll be wearing a sign on my back with the first name of every person who makes a donation through my site (regardless of amount), as well as the first name of anyone a donor wants me to run in honor of (breast cancer survivors) or in memory of (those who have died from breast cancer).
But you all really come here to read about my experience during the race, and even though this post will be comparatively brief, I will provide you with a few details. The fact is, while I "forgot" I was running, I also managed to "forget" a lot of the details of what was going on around me. But here's what I remember:
Before the race began, when I was supposed to be warming up and stretching and all that normal pre-race stuff, I got sidetracked instead. First I met Ronald McDonald and had my photo taken with him. Then I chatted for quite a while with one of the Leukemia Society Team in Training folks. Then, about 15 minutes before the start of the race, as they were starting to call folks to the start line, I realized I hadn't used the bathroom yet. My hopes for an indoor potty were quickly dashed as I was directed to a line of seven porta-potties (pee-pee teepees, in my vernacular) that had a line almost 15 people long in front of them. As I waited for my turn, I just wanted to be able to pee and get to the starting line in time. Being in the pee-pee teepee when the race begins would be rather like Christina Pickles being in the ladies' rest room when she won her Emmy for "St. Elsewhere," one of the few award ceremony moments I remember all too clearly, probably because I figured that's where Murphy's Law would have me be if I ever won an award.
I hope you'll forgive my brief digression into this topic. These were, as pee-pee teepees go, fairly upscale. The latch actually worked, and there was even a pump-like lever to flush the potty. As I was sitting there, I realized that to my right was a portable sink. (Believe me, I triple-checked to make sure it wasn't actually a urinal.) And there were paper towels. Just two things were missing: a trash can for the used paper towel (no, I didn't flush the paper towel, since I don't want to screw up the time-space continuum) and, most importantly, SOAP. Nada. Euw. So I didn't really wash my hands, I rinsed them. And what's truly frightening to me is that that's more than most people do in fully equiped indoor bathrooms. OK, is everyone sufficiently grossed out? Good. Let's get on to the race, since I did finish my personal business in plenty of time to get to the starting line for the race.
We started on New Scotland Road, going up a looooooong slow hill to begin the race. We turned inot a neighborhood I've driven past but never through, and I spent most of the run nearly dropping my jaw at the homes in this neighborhood. I'm used to seeing some really amazing homes in Saratoga Springs, but these were all relatively new homes, every one of them something I could never afford without a winning MegaMillions ticket, each one situated on a plot of land that would easily contain my house's plot at least four times over. In this neighborhood there was another very long hill, but the grade was much less steep, so it wasn't as difficult.
Just before the halfway mark, I started pacing a newbie runner named Jess. She walked the race last year and just started running this year. We shared a similar sense of humor about the course. As we wound around the turn-around point, we passed a garage sale where the homeowner was selling a bicycle. Jess looked at it, but I jokingly chided her that riding a bike to the finish would be cheating. Just past that house, we turned down the next street and I saw a sign reading, "Small Animal Crossing" with a picture of a turtle underneath. Of all the times to be without my camera! I commented that I appreciated how slimming they made my turtle image on the sign. We kept up a 14-minute mile pace, which was very comfortable for me. When we turned onto the main road that would take us back to New Scotland Road, I saw one of the many Bethlehem Police cars that protected our route and the EMT rescue truck that would follow the last runner. As we rounded the turn, I said to the small group of volunteers and cops, "We have reservations. Ambulance for two..." They smiled and cheered us on.
I can honestly say this race was the easiest I've run (even though I didn't run all of it). I treated it like a warm-up and just relaxed and had fun with it. As a result, I actually feel prepared for tomorrow's Saratoga Palio 5k...but that's another blog posting.
To those who supported me in the Run for Hope, whether through a donation or a high-five or an electronic "atta girl," I just want to say thank you. Thank you for getting my heinie out of bed this morning. And if you ever need a bright and surly wake-up call, I'm your girl.
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