Gotturdun!!

After spending most of yesterday in bed and consisting on pretzels and juice, I was a little doubtful about participating in today's half marathon.  My stomach was still doing loop-d-loops after Friday's foodpalooza, and although the Tylenol had taken care of the chill-sweats, I was still not up to par.  And certainly the lack of decent sleep last night (you know, when you look at the clock and say, "If I go to sleep this instant, then I will get four hours of sleep," but then it happens every hour after that) did not make today's choice a particularly good one.

Alas, I am not always known for my good choices.  Although I did not really think it was a good idea, I got up at 5 to get ready and catch the hotel shuttle to the start line.  I couldn't stomach the idea of eating anything, so I had my usual Breakfast of Champions on race day (that would be two Tylenol and a Diet Coke chaser) and headed off to the bus.

So why did I push myself out the door?  Mostly because for the 26.2 With Donna The National Marathon to Finish Breast Cancer, I am a streaker.  And no, that doesn't mean I wog sans clothing.  It means that I have participated every year since its inception, this being the sixth year, which happens to be my friend Emily's breast cancer diagnosis anniversary, so it makes it even more special.  It's also a great race since it allows you a half-marathon pace of 32 minutes/mile, which today I was counting on needing every minute.

Anyhow, back to the bus.  About a dozen or so ladies and I boarded a school bus and headed for the start, about five miles away.  Already feeling icky, the bumpity-bump of the bus did not help.  I debated whether, should the need arise, should I hurl out the window or attempt to make it to the door, pleading with Ms. Bus Driver to open the door ASAP.  It didn't help that a traffic jam slowed our pace to about two inches an hour (which coincidentally is my race pace), which meant even more bumpity-bumps.   Eventually, about an hour and a-half later, we finally made it to the start.  Which was delayed for 30 minutes while the rest of the traffic jam cleared and all the runners finally arrived.

Soon it was time to begin, and we did!  Of course my corral, the orange (or last, or slow-pokes) was allowed to start, 15 minutes after the official start.  Did I mention it was 34 degrees with 10 mph winds?  In Jacksonville?  So, if you factor in the day-before-illness, the cold, the wind, and oh yeah - the lack of training, it was going to be a slow race.  No prob, as I had plenty of time to move my feet!

Steve, Kitty (his sister), and Ray (her friend) planned to be at Mile 5 to cheer me on.  Kitty and Ray have been there every year, and it really is a boost to see them.  I texted Steve when I finally arrived at Mile 1 to let him know I would be there eventually.  And eventually I made it and saw their smiling faces.  Which also meant I only had 8 more miles to go.  Which probably wouldn't have been such a big deal if my stomach at that point was trying to figure out whether to puke or poop its contents, or maybe a massive dual display (note to self - Gu and Gatorade are not an advisable menu if your stomach is having issues).  But somehow I managed to calm it down, and after a mile on the beach, we turned back and headed to the finish, where each mile got longer and l o n g e r  and l  o  n  g  e  r.  But yes, I finished and got my medal.

So why did I keep going and not quit, even though there were several points where I could have quit and headed back to the house in a taxi?  Simply this - breast cancer does not quit, nor do the women who have to fight this disease.  Thirteen little miles is nothing compared to those who fight against this disease.

Why didn't I take a shortcut, when my peeps were headed down one road and we could look a block to the left and see the fast people headed home?  Because there are no shortcuts in breast cancer.  While those with breast cancer can look and see those who are ahead of them in their fight, they can't get there without taking each step.  I owed it to them to take each step with missing a single one.

Why did I keep walking, even though the blisters forming on the bottoms of my feet were getting more pronounced with each step?  Because they were just blisters.  They were not a mastectomy or radiation or chemotherapy.  The blisters will go away in a week - if only the others could be dismissed as easily.

So why do I do this walk as a streaker?  For all those I saw today with "survivor" bibs on their back.  For all those who wore bibs that said, "I walk in memory or honor of ..." and have names to complete that sentence.  I walk for Marilyn and Emily and Janette and Kelly.  And Mary and Debbie and Aunt Laura and Amanda.  I wogged today because my entry fee goes to the Mayo Clinic for breast cancer treatment and research.

Today I finished the half-marathon.  One day we'll finish breast cancer.

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The Good Stuff From Today:  chatter from the ladies on the bus; chatting with the two Georgia ladies pre-race; the fast marathon runner stopping to take water from an upset toddler who was passing out water with her mom and sisters (and was clearly upset because nobody was taking her water); seeing Kitty, Ray, and Steve at Mile 5; making it up the JTB last hill; fellow woggers who would ask how I was doing; beautiful cold day; drive to Orlando and room location