Vertigo

Rather that focus on how stupid I was for taking that trail off the highway down the slope and falling when it became too steep, unable to climb back up…  Rather than focusing on my attempt to go down to the bottom after my fall and getting stuck on that volcanic ledge high above the crashing surf where my fear of heights set in so I almost became senseless with fear (some would argue I was senseless for getting into that situation to begin with), I prefer to focus on my rescue and the kindness of a complete stranger who came to my aid.  I sure felt stupid waving my arms and yelling “HELP!  Please HELP me!” at the top of my lungs.  Instead, I’ll think of Terry’s kind voice saying “Take your time.  There is no rush.”  This teenager telling a woman who is probably older than his mother “You can do it.  Just step here.  Hold on to the rocks.  That’s it.”  Thank God for Terry.

Seconds and Inches

I had lunch with my old friend Kathleen today. She reminds me in a glorious way about being in the right place at the right time, as if by chance. I remember when I met her that day on Waikiki almost 20 years ago and how it seemed so happenstance that I got to meet her, or perhaps part of a divine plan.

After lunch, I joined Bruce and the kids at Shark’s Cove. Only 25% of them were having a good time, so we moved to the next beach over. The one that reminded me of the ash tray the day before, but today I think someone had been cleaning it up. It was lovely. After a short swim, Bruce took Mary back to the house while I stayed with the boys and gently napped. I watched the boys digging a very deep hole and the adorable sandy bottom of a toddler who had joined them. All I could see above the hole was her bottom as she was absorbed in her task of digging. I smiled as I thought of how lucky she was to have found these very nice boys to play with. (Since this is my blog, I can brag shamelessly about how wonderfully nice these two boys are.)

After more than an hour, Cory came to my spot and said “I know it’s been quite a while, but what happened to Dad and Mary?” I answered “They went back to the house.” He stamped his foot in frustration and anger “You knew I wanted to go back! Why did you let them go without me?” “I am sorry, Cory. Five minutes.” I said. “You knew I wanted to go back!” he said again. “Five minutes. Tell your brother.” I said.

I had known that he wanted to go back. But when they left, he looked like he was having so much fun, I thought he had changed his mind. And the last time he heard Mary say she wanted to go back, he had said “Mary, we just got here. Charlie wants to play a little.” I felt badly, but I wasn’t going to dwell on it. Five minutes.

Cory went out into the ocean up to his chest. Charlie played in the shore break. And the toddler, away from the protective eyes of her father who previously had been standing close watch, decided to follow Cory. She couldn’t swim. A wave, retreating from the beach to the ocean, picked her up and began to sweep her out to deeper water. She flailed, but any noise she made was imperceptible above the ocean. Quickly sizing up what was happening, Cory grabbed her and carried her to shore. Seeing the aftermath, her dad ran over and scolded her for going into the water without him. He looked at Cory, who was back in the ocean, and said “Thank you.” Cory gave a polite nod, but didn’t seem to dwell on what had just happened.

I packed up our things and seeing me ready to go, my boys came out of the water.

“I love you like a fat kid loves cake”

The house we are in at the North Shore is wonderful.  It is a short walk to Food Land, a great beach that feels private because there is hardly anyone else there, and another beach that has beautiful snorkeling, but seems to attract people who like to smoke and leave their butts behind.  I felt like I was lying in an ashtray.

This morning we walked to mass.  They gave Bruce an orchid boutineer as he walked in and said “Happy Father’s Day”.  The mass got a late start because the priest had been saying another mass up the road and had become stuck in traffic.  But he was worth the wait!  He made us feel welcome.  Not because he singled anyone out, but because he smiled, welcomed the entire congregation with a sincerity I never see at home, and talked like a person, not a high priest.  The best news of the morning is that it looks like Father Damien is well on his way to becoming a saint later this year.  If anyone deserves it, he does!

Lying on the beach this afternoon, watching the kids play in the waves for hours on end, I heard a teenager near me proclaim to the girl with him “I love you like a fat kid loves cake.”  I am not sure that is the sweet nothing I would want whispered in my ear, but I decided that I love Hawaii like a fat kid loves cake.

Wyman’s (almost) Unplugged

These are out of order. I was blogging off line. Now we are in Seattle preparing for our big flight to Hawaii in the wee hours tomorrow morning. But here’s from last Friday:

Today we stared our 8 week odyssey. Not “vacation” completely, but a lot. Here I am sitting around the campfire blogging on my Mac. I’ll have to upload it later – we aren’t that plugged in during our unplugged time.

It took a lot longer to get out of the house this morning than planned. We were up at 4 AM to run 10 miles before getting ready to go. Unfortunately, I didn’t get the kids up early, so the washing machine lay fallow for a while. That put us behind schedule. We wanted to have clean sheets on all the beds to come home to. And I wanted to have a clean house for our house sitter. Regardless, we got out at 2 PM.

Our drive started with CW McCall crooning “Convoy”. It was a bit anti-climactic, but Cory got it. Then we played Willie Nelson’s “On the Road Again”. Good traveling songs, all. Driving to a campground outside of Flagstaff is a great idea because it’s like the shakedown cruise. There is still a Safeway between us and the wilds of Utah.

We are camping in a lovely Ponderosa Pine forest and hear the happy sounds from the large family just over the hill. They were playing street football when we walked by and there were a bunch of friendly kids riding around on wheeled vehicles. It made me smile. We can also hear the generator from the older couple a few spaces away who want to get away from it all while brining it all with them. I hate generators in campgrounds. Almost as much as I hate Hummers.

I saw this sign and thought of my sister: “Take it to your camp site to wash your dish’s”

I want to go to work for the grammar police. But I probably wouldn’t pass the qualification exam’s.

Seize us, Jesus

Last night we spent the night at Natural Bridges National Park, which is a designated “dark sky” area, so I left my Mac in its bag. I looked forward to seeing some great stars, but there were clouds and I was tired. I did look up through the screen at the top of the tent and saw a few stars, but mostly I stayed snug in my sleeping bag. Cory was wowed by the stars he saw in the middle of the night, but Mary was disappointed.

This morning I had a pleasant run to the Sipapu Bridge Overlook and back up the hill to our campsite. I would have liked to have gone further, but running alone in a strange place, you can’t really change the plan once you’ve started. Kind of like violating a flight plan filed with the FAA.

The country we drove through today was spectacular. From brilliantly red sheer cliffs to mountain pastures that looked like they were out of The Sound of Music. But after five or so hours, I was falling asleep. I needed some coffee. I turned on the radio for distraction and found an interesting local show. But after the third chorus of “Jesus! Seize us!” I realized that I just needed coffee. Badly.

Newport Marathon Race Report

state: oregon, #7
time: 3:51
total marathons: 9

I arrived in Portland ahead of schedule at 10 AM. my sister was driving down from Maple Valley with Cliff, one of her running buddies. I’ve known Cliff for years and he’s good company. I had planned on waiting in the airport because they weren’t supposed to be arriving until around 11, closer to the time Tony arrived. He’s another one of Mary’s running buddies. He moved to Maple Valley a few years ago from Chicago and I spent time with him at Twin Cities and Boston. He’s funny. Anyway, I called Sissy and she said “You’re in Portland already?! We’re at baggage claim. There’s Alaska… Hawaiian… US Air.” I said “Are you inside or outside?” She said “Oh wait. That sign says ‘I5′. We must not be there yet.” It was pretty funny. So, I got busy working at the Starbucks until they arrived over an hour later.

The 2 1/2 hour ride to Newport was enjoyable. Those guys are funny. We checked in and got our goodie bags. They were very well stocked with all sorts of enjoyable swag. We went for a little run and stopped at the Yaquina Bay lighthouse for a self-guided tour.  It was really interesting and quite well maintained.  The volunteers were filled with useful information and tips that we can use next week when we drive through Oregon on our way to Seattle.  They pointed out another lighthouse, Yaquina Head, where you can climb 104 steps up into the lighthouse.  I suggested we visit that one after the marathon.  Then we went out for oyster shooters before the pasta feed. Oyster shooters aren’t my thing, but the place we went was lovely and trendy. Newport seems to have this hip artsy element and I like it. The pasta feed was at the local high school and proceeds benefitted the track and cross country teams. I thought that was nice. There were many Boston jackets in the room and I was feeling a little intimidated.

After the pasta feed, the other three went to the jacuzzi, but I was so tired, I just went to bed. I fell asleep watching the sun set over the Pacific Ocean. Cliff, a physical therapist, was giving Mary and Tony some sort of PT treatments that involved a machine that takes a 9 volt battery. After Mary’s treatment, the battery died, so Mary came to our room, got real close to my sleeping face and asked “Catherine! Catherine! Do you have a 9 volt battery?” I woke up just enough to say “No” and go back to sleep.

Race morning. It was gray and overcast, but not too cold and not windy. I guessed it was about 50 degrees. I wore shorts and my Marathon Maniacs singlet. I wondered what I could possibly have been thinking signing up for this? I wondered if I would be able to finish. We got ready and jogged the mile or so to the start. This race is capped at 750. There are no chips. It has a very small town kind of feel. There were a lot of other Maniacs here. My sister sized up the competition. At the packet pickup, we had seen the first place trophies. Beautiful large wood herons made by a local artist. I wanted her to get one. They give them out to the male and female overall winner and overall masters winners.

The gun surprised me when it went off as I was chatting with one of the main Maniacs. (There are three: Chris, Steve, and Tony P.) Running the first mile was ok. I just tried to take it easy and find my pace. I had no pace plan for the day, but in the back of my mind, I thought a sub 4 would be nice. Mile two was somewhere over 10 minutes and I was discouraged. But I’d been chatting with a maniac who was retired and very nice. When I told him that I was trying to do 50 marathons in 50 states, but it was a long term goal because of the constraints of time and money, he suggested I just take out a loan. I replied with mock enlightenment “I know! I’ll use the kids’ college fund!” The pack I was with discussed the problem of getting your spouse to be ok with including a race in every vacation plan and different ways to get a pass to sign up for another marathon. I was in my element.  They understood my telling Bruce “I can’t go to Hawaii and NOT run a marathon!” 

Mile 3 came at it was much faster. My watch now said “17 something”. I remembered that Marc had said that mile 2 would be slow. “Don’t be discouraged.” he’d said. “Mile 3 will be faster.” He was spot on! We ran down the waterfront and I was feeling pretty good. I happened to be running with Gunhild, who is a Maniac and my sister has told me about all the things she has won and the records she has set. She said she’d only run 10 times since March because her husband had been seriously ill. (She still won her age group for this race.)

She stopped to chat with her husband and I found myself running with two women in pink “Marathon Mommies” shirts. The shirt said “The woman who finishes 26.2 is different than the woman who started.” Or something like that. They were in their early 30s and have babies at home. The Marathon Mommies logo is a runner pushing a baby jogger. I’m glad those days are over for me. It’s much easier now. Kelly was going off of heart rate and had to let that be her pace guide. Sarah was hoping for a new PR, sub 3:45. Sarah and I gradually pulled away from Kelly.

The aid station at around mile 7 was overwhelmed. They were not able to keep the drinks coming fast enough. I thought I would just pick one up from the table because they couldn’t hand them out fast enough, but all the cups on the table were empty. So, I picked one up and I waited to be poured some water. Afterwards, when I caught up with Sarah I said “If I was going for time, that aid station would have really frustrated me.” But I felt bad that these volunteers were struggling. I hoped they would be able to catch up soon.

By mile 10, I could feel the soreness in my legs and I said to myself “This is what you get when you train like you do.” Cutting runs short. Staying in bed thinking “I’ll run later” and then not running. That gets you tired sore legs by mile 10. I was worried.

After the initial “lollipop” loop through the beach front area, Newport is an out and back course along the Yaquina Bay. There is an oyster farm along the route that had an aid station set up where you could get free oyster shooters. It was fun to see the runners coming towards us. The winning male ran a 2:22 and he looked very strong as he zoomed passed us. When Cliff passed us, he was about the number 10 male, and he showed no signs of the trouble that was going to hit him later. I cheered for all the people I knew and Sarah said “Wow, you know everybody.” Wendy was the first woman and she looked fine, but not more than a few hundred feet behind her was Annie and she looked incredibly strong. I suspected Wendy’s lead wouldn’t hold. #3 woman looked slightly angry. When I saw Sissy as the #4 woman, I cheered and when she got closer I said “You’re the fourth woman and those in front of you look young.” Sissy looked strong and happy. This was a good sign and gave me quite a boost.

Only one lane of this road is closed. The other lane is open to traffic. After the turn around, I was running close to the yellow line and a few cars inched by us. There was a maroon minivan that zoomed by us honking his horn. I said “He’s going too fast.” There were occasional clumps of spectators cheering and some kids with bubbles. After several miles, we saw the maroon minivan again. The driver, who looked to be about 80, was in handcuffs. There was a police bicycle under his front bumper. The policeman was calmly explaining to the man that he couldn’t resist them as he had been because he was just making things worse. I would learn later that he had, in fact, hit the police cyclist. The policeman would be ok, but he was hurt.

I saw a woman running towards the turn around who looked amazingly like the older woman in the blue shirt with the white headband I see on the canal. Earlier, I had seen Patty from Fred Moore’s group. Wouldn’t it be funny if this was the same woman? I wasn’t going to stop to ask.

Sarah was going for 3:45. I began giving her a pep talk as I felt pretty strong and she seemed to be slowing. She thanked me. Her Garmin said we were running at an 8:22 pace. By mile 22, the soreness I felt at mile 10 had gotten worse. My feet hurt. A lot. I looked at my watch, did some mental math, and said “Sarah. A PR is within your grasp. You are running strong and you can do this. I can’t. You go girl!” and my engines seemed to turn off.

The last four miles took forever. I’m not sure what “forever” really is, but it was so tough. I think it was around 10 minute miles. “Vast resources of inner mental strength.” I kept telling myself. My feet hurt. I was filled with an almost overwhelming desire to walk. But I kept saying “You’ll hate yourself later if you walk. Walking doesn’t help. It just makes it take longer.” Suddenly, I heard “HI!” It was Kelly! She’d caught me. Two miles left. “I hope I don’t blow up.” she said. “Be true to your heart rate and you’ll be fine.” I said “You’re going to beat me! And you are going to PR!” Her previous PR was 4:03. I watched her pull away and I was so happy it was a good day for her.

The top of the hill is at mile 26. The last .2 is a wonderful downhill. It felt so good to have different muscles working for a change! I really let myself go. I was done! My watch said 3:50:51, but this was gun time, not chip time and the official time is 3:51 something. Oregon is in the books. I saw Sarah. She was disappointed she’d missed her PR by less than a minute. I didn’t realize it until later, but this was my second fastest marathon ever.

The finish was in a different place from the start. Farther away from our hotel. I expected that my sister might be gone by the time I finished, but I saw Tony splayed out on a cot in the medical tent and my sister was standing next to him. He’d had some blood pressure problem, but they were taking care of him. He ran a 3:30 and qualified for Marathon Maniacs at last. I picked up my drop bag and some food. They were giving the runners beer and clam chowder. The chowder was yummy!

At the awards ceremony some hours later, I saw the older woman from the canal. I went over and said “I don’t mean to be rude, but, do you run the canal in Phoenix?” Her name is Kay and she sure does! She’d PR’d and qualified for Boston that day! her husband, Lyle, has done 50 marathons in 50 states. it took him over 20 years. he’s going to send me his marathon list. They are in Colorado for the summer, so I will look for Kay in October when they come back.

After the awards ceremony, we went to the Yaquina Head Lighthouse, but it was closed for the day.  We were disappointed, but realized that what we really wanted to do was climb the stairs, not see the lighthouse, so we went up and down the stairs at our hotel 3 1/2 times.  105 steps. Dinner last night was at the Saffron Salmon and it was delicious.

This morning we went for an easy run on the beach.  Cliff brought a frisbee.  It was really funny to see these sore masters runners gingerly bending down to pick up the frisbee off the sand.  There were some stairs up the cliff and I suggested we run up one set of stairs and down the other.  But when we got to the top of the first set, we realized we couldn’t reach the other, so we ran down and then up the other and back down again.  238 stairs in all.  I am glad I got out of bed even though I didn’t want to at the time.

It was a fun weekend.  I like running marathons.