Better to Laugh

The weather map when I went to dinner the night before the US Air Force Marathon.  The map looked like this all day.

The map looked the same when I went to bed. Not much had changed when I got up, either. All signs pointed to a rainy marathon. I did not want to run 26.2 miles in the rain, but I would if it came down to it. Wetness wasn’t going to stop me after hundreds of miles of training.

I prayed for a pressure system to push the moisture south and east. The precipitation was a steady drizzle as my friend, Kim, and I sat in traffic waiting to park. As soon as we got in the parking space, the rain slowed to a misty spittle. When I got to the start line, the rain was a light mist, barely felt. Did I start with dry feet? Uh, no. I stepped in a puddle not far from the car and another puddle almost to the start line. At least my feet were equally wet!

The weather was not the only thing putting a damper on my race start. There was no one directing traffic at the intersection off of the highway, so there was a huge traffic jam. I was an hour early, and I still got caught in traffic. The jam put me 45 minutes behind schedule, and we had to park almost two miles from the start line with 15 minutes left to get to there. I did not get to stretch, had to run/walk to the start, and I still did not make it for the gun. I fastened my race belt as I joined the back of the pack crossing the start.

While the start was not as I had planned, the race was wonderful! The volunteers and spectators were energetic, my feet did not blister, and the rain stayed away!

Yes, I do believe in miracles!

When I told my friend that I was running in the United States Air Force Marathon, she got excited and showed me the album she made after running the Chicago Marathon. She had a graph of her training runs, pictures, her estimated finish time, a print out of her actual finish time, etc. She also had a plastic baggy with change in it (quarters, nickels, dimes, pennies); she said it was her prize purse. To break up the monotony of long training runs, she had picked up spare change she would find lying on the ground along the way.

When I told my husband about her prize purse, he said, “Where is she running? I never see change on the ground!”

I was thinking the same thing, but I started looking for change, anyway. For the first week or so, I only found a screw and two nails. They had no monetary value, but I pictured myself saving a poor driver from a flat tire. There were also plenty of cigarette butts and a dirty band-aid, but I wisely left them on the ground. About a week ago, I found a plastic bottle cap and a metal beer cap. My prize purse was looking pretty pathetic.

Then, last weekend at the beginning of my 16 mile run, I saw a bright, shiny penny on my path. My first currency for my prize purse! And, it was not just any penny; it was a 1999 penny. Significant because 1999 is when I started having symptoms of Meniere’s disease (vertigo, loss of balance, vomiting, hearing loss), had surgery to try to alleviate the symptoms, and lost the hearing in my left ear. That was 14 years ago, and look how far I have come.

As I completed my 16 mile training run, I reflected on what I had accomplished since 1999:  I lost 50 pounds, got my symptoms under control, started running, have run almost a dozen half marathons, a trail marathon, and I am now running a street marathon. That 1999 penny is a symbolic trophy worth more than any prize purse!