Tree Branches in Twilight through BlackBerry Viewfinder
13.1 miles.
The Seattle Half-Marathon.
A couple of months ago after my strong Sundae Sunday 10 miler, I printed a half-marathon training schedule, thinking I would run a fall destination race and selected the Seattle Half-Marathon.
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After my pre-run morning ritual cup of coffee and before the 7:30AM start time, as I chat with other runners, I think the drizzling rain is perfect for distance with temperatures in the low 40’s. I am not even slightly tempted to jump the fence that separates the runners from spectators like an orderly row of trimmed bushes to lie in grass. Today, I am ready to run. I have my power gel, journal, and pencil but no watch to keep time. I lost the sports watch I’ve worn only once, but I really haven’t used one in years since I broke my wrist in a spectacular fall that bruised my entire left arm blue, black, and purple and reddened my knee in a vivid Autumn crimson.
Anticipation.
I run shoulder to shoulder with thousands of runners, watching my stride so I don’t trip on curbs and cracks in the street or the gait of another. I am feeling fantastic as I start, and my legs feel strong in the first few miles, although I know I must keep some reserves for mile eight when I will head straight up the steep, rain-slick Madison hill.
But I decide stay present in the current mile I run, not looking too far ahead. This is how I have been running all spring, summer, and fall as I watched tomatoes, greens and pumpkins, lilacs, lupine and sunflowers, and maple, oak and aspen leaves grow and turn, rotating through their collections of colorful seasonal costumes and jewelry. I breathe misty air the full length of my lungs, from top to bottom and feel my muscles red and strong.
The Steps of my Stride in the Seattle Half-Marathon
My pigtails, black running skirt, and eggplant purple Adidas jacket with my mini journal and pencils (unused until the end) bouncing in my pocket like my collected talismans of acorns.
Glitter.
Typical Seattle drizzling rain in the salty darkish early hour.
Yellow reflective lane markers in parallel lines along the middle of downtown streets and holiday lights blinking, winking like rain on puddles.
The clattering of thousands of running shoes on downtown streets to the grey I-90’s freeway express lanes, sounding like a dropped stack of multi-colored acrylic dishes hitting the floor.
The thundering of 18-wheelers and cars trilling by at 65 mph on either side of the express lanes.
Entering the freeway tunnel, runners inhaling the echoes of our cheering voices.
The winding avenue alongside the muted grey-blue lake, silvery fog layers hovering above like my Lincoln Park hummingbird.
Trees.
The smell of lattes six miles in. A latte sounds delicious.
Wet muted green, red, yellow, and orange leaves sticking to concrete like cobbled pavement.
Trees.
The fragrance of decomposing foliage and humus in parks, the boulevard, a path that zigzags like a pile of pickup sticks.
Birds settling on high telephone wires.
The rush of adrenaline in my blood at the top of steep hills.
Trees. Trees. Trees. Today I have grown taller from [running] with the trees. (Karle Wilson)
My Brooks running shoes, damp and broken. I ran hard.
The huge smile that opens on my face as I put the silver medal around my neck.
A great race, ran all right-brained with the help of some muscle memory and a gauzy layer of glitter.
Official chip time 1:47:43.
Split 1 (10k or 6.2 miles) 54:39, split 2 (6.9 miles) 53:36.
228th out of 4266 women.
33rd out of 543 in my age division.
Silver Medal on Paper through BlackBerry Viewfinder
(I never did read that half-marathon training schedule I printed.)
GL, 11/29/2009. Prevail.
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