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elkid
Member
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Joined: 18 Nov 2002
Posts: 8353
Location: hiding out in Philly
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 Posted: 05/05/03 - 23:37 Post subject: My Broad Street Miracle Weekend (L-L-L-O-O-O-N-N-N-G-G-G)
Short of it: Finally met my best friend, the definite highlight of the weekend. Smashed my former 5K, 4M, 5M/8K, 10K, 7M, and 15K PRs. Learned a lot about myself, proved a lot to myself. Met cool as sh!t Riff Raffers, ran the race of a lifetime.
FINAL: 1:43:10, 10:19 pace. 7,863 of 9,051 finishers: beat 13%.
SPLITS: 20:19 (2), 10:21, 20:55 (2), 10:35, 10:27, 10:33, 10:32, 09:29
The ABCs of Broad Street: awe-inspiring, bathroom, champion, downhill, excited, falling, good, humbling, information, joe, kidnapped, lesson, miracle, neat, overcome, Philadelphian, quads, racer, spent, tenacious, undulating, value, water, 'xpo, yearning, zooming.
LLLOOONNNGGG of it:
Saturday morning finally arrives: best friend coming! SO EXCITED! Jumping around outside my house, screaming to The Paramedic "She's almost here! She's almost HERE!" She arrives, hugs all around, more screaming. Take her stuff inside, grab drinks, back in the car to the Expo.
Pick up race packets at the 'xpo, decide expo sucks, leave. Off to Manayunk for neat Riff Raff get together. Meet cool RRs (including honorary amazingly well-behaved kidlet members supah smart Kimmy and flirtatious Mikey [Cappy's gonna have a real problem when that kid hits high school  ]), get somewhat churyled. Home to catch some Zs.
Sunday morning, up at 5:30. Get ready, jump in car at 6am to drive to the First Union Center. Park, jump on subway. See The Missing Link (this guy has apparently never heard of body waxing), get off at Olney and walk to high school by start. While in line find Joe O (Lesson #1: it is indeed possible to find one person in a crowd of thousands, particularly if they're wearing highlighter yellow shorts). Make bathroom stop #1. I'm horrified that with 10,000+ runners there are only about 30 portajohns. 
Best friend and I chat with Joe for quite some time. I thought I had a lot of energy - this guy puts me to shame! Off for bathroom stop #2 - make plans to re-meet Joe before start. Get back to start 2 minutes before the start, miss Joe. Best friend and I jump into race. She anticipates a sub-2, I want a 1:45, and say I'll be ecstatic with anything less. 51 degrees and overcast, perfect running weather.
WOOOO! The horn goes off. We don't yet move. It's very claustrophobic in this crowd. Takes us a full 3.5 minutes to get to the start. Best friend taps me on the shoulder, points down the road, and simply says "LOOK." Before me lies a sea of at least 5,000 runners, all tightly packed, slowly undulating down Broad Street. What an awe-inspiring sight. Best friend urges me to go ahead and run this race. I smile, say "good luck", turn on the MP3 player, and regretfully leave her to run her race and to run the one I've hoped for.
I missed a few mile markers, as I'm caught up in the sights and sounds. (In attendance throughout the race I see various Mummers and Superman, the Roman Catholic HS band, the entire Engine 1 Ladder 5 company, and later a dude banging drums solo [very well, I might add].) I noticed people slipping ahead of me, and some slipping behind. Not even a mile in I also notice the return of FFS (Floppy Feet Syndrome). I literally cannot straighten my feet, and it hurts. No, it REALLY friggin' hurts. All I can do is pick my legs up and toss my feet in front of me. I debate stopping to stretch, quickly reject that idea, and keep plodding along until it works itself out. I'm yearning to go faster, but cannot because of the pain. It eventually disappears somewhere between the 3rd and 4th miles.  Lesson #2: I am more disciplined and tenacious than I thought.
Closer and closer I run to City Hall. It's getting bigger, and I'm getting psyched. I can feel the benefits of my weight training, my thousands of crunches, and the many miles I put in during the last month specifically for this race. So far, so good - feeling strong, feeling POWERFUL, no signs of it falling apart.
After running through the first two water stations, I grab a cup at #3. Up and around City Hall there are quite a few stations. At #4 I try to retest my (as of yet unsuccessful) ability to drink on the run via Official Race Cup. I get water up my nose, in my eyes (weird, as I had on wraparound sunglasses), all over my singlet, in my ears (weird, as I had headphones on), all over the runners around me. Three or four drops manage to make it in my mouth. My test proves unsuccessful. I walk for 10 seconds at the next stop to get some much needed refreshment.
We traverse around City Hall via 15th Street. Back on Broad Street, I'm overcome with emotion. There are dozens of people lining the street, screaming words of encouragement to any runner who'd listen. Some had signs, some were looking for specific runners, but most were just there to just be there. I got a little misty thinking here are these people with no vested interest in the outcome of the race, who no doubt have much better things to do on a Sunday morning, but they're here to cheer us on. Humbling. I also got to high five my governor, who looked ecstatic to be a part of this race. Wow. Lesson #3: I am 100% Philadelphian.
Miles 6 & 7 prove uneventful. I'm still feeling good, my times are holding. I grab a cup of water at the next water station, walking 10 seconds to get it all in. I start to run again, watching the ground carefully so I don't slip and fall on the discarded cups. The runner stops on a dime in front of me, and to avoid colliding with her I put my arms out. I accidentally knock her over: her 2 cups of water go flying, she does a very ungraceful pirouette to the ground because she hit someone else, too. 
The Mile 8 marker comes. A man is sitting backwards in a chair, motionless, with a "Run for Jesus" sign pinned to his back. Only in Philly, I think. I also begin to think I'm a little tired, that maybe I should stop and walk. I scream to the mental demons in my head "NO WAY! You've worked way too hard for this to give it up now!" And I continue on. Lesson #4: I am getting better mentally as a runner.
WTF? I find myself falling. A runner was drafting too closely to me (weird, as there's no wind) and ends up tripping me. I think, "I can run with a broken arm, but not a broken leg" and throw out my right arm which luckily breaks my fall. My right cheek skids on the ground. That was kind of painful. I pick myself up and keep going.
The Mile 9 marker approaches. My quads are hurting, as this race is pretty much 100% downhill. I'm starting to hear the roar of the crowd at the finish. Even with my MP3 player, it's LOUD. A certain po-po had said that once I saw the sign for the naval yard, I had a quarter mile to go. I see the sign, and begin to pick runners off. Lesson #5: I'm much more competitive than I thought.
Then I see the ACTUAL sign he was referring to. Clearly marked with "ONE QUARTER MILE TO GO!" I mutter a few curses to stupid po-po and decide, what the hell, I've sprinted this far, let's give it all I've got.
The last quarter mile was indeed the most telling. My quads are screaming, I'm panting like a rabid dog from the effort and from continually yelling "ON YOUR LEFT!" I see the finish line. I go all out, passing one runner after another. I see the clock. I am well within reach of my goal. After zooming past 42 (yes, 42!) runners in the last half mile, I cross out of breath, spent, exhausted, in 1:43:10. Lesson #6: I am strong.
I'm in shock. I ran the best race of my short career, breaking every record I hold. I have pushed myself further than I thought I could, and got my miracle race because of it. I'm trying not to puke, and begin to cry for I have proven to myself once and for all that I am not just a runner, I am now officially a RACER.
I wait for best friend. 2 hours comes. 2:10. Then 2:20. I begin to sense something is desperately wrong. I ask the EMTs if they have any info, and they direct me to the med tent. "Have you any information on runner 4034?" They look and can find no one. Finally the guy behind the table says, "Now we've found her." Looks right at me, tilts his head, and looks at my singlet. I realize I'M #4034. In my confusion I gave them the wrong bib number! 
After finding her true number, I discover she had a severe asthma attack and had been rushed to Temple Hospital. I start shaking and crying, and am then told she's OK, she was treated and released. "OK, so who is bringing her back here?" Apparently this was confusing. "Um, no one."
"No one? She's not from here and knows nothing about this city. She has no ID save her bib info, no money, no cell phone. You need to find out where she is and then I'll figure out how to get her." Eventually I'm told the Temple police will try to bring her back. I say try is not good enough, you've lost my best friend, bring her back to me.
After about 1.5 hours of shuffling between various areas, using a race-provided cell phone to make numerous calls. I finally see her walking across the green. I run over to her and grab her, hugging her tight. We are both hysterical, she for having been kidnapped by the EMTs and taken to the hospital when she didn't want to go, me for finally having found her. I ask, "Are you OK?" She says, "Yes. I'm so sorry I missed your finish; I really tried to get here. How'd you do?"
That, my friends, was the best part of this race. This woman had no other thought during her medical ordeal than getting to the finish to see me finish. She was the champion of this race. Hands friggin' down. Lesson #7: I am loved.
So I got my PR. I got to meet my best friend, who truly showed me the value of friendship and commitment. I got to meet great Riff Raffers. And I got to prove a lot to myself. All in all, this was definitely my Broad Street Miracle Weekend. Thanks for indulging me.
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