2007 LA Marathon
Cheeseburger anyone?
March 4, 2007
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Once again, my preparation skills come to the fore. Yes,
marathon season has descended upon us again. And for those
of you with actual athletic prowess, the fun can begin once more.
For those of us without a calendar, let the pains begin.
Yup, this year I made yet another go of a marathon without
consulting with psychiatric professionals beforehand. Possibly,
not the best idea. This time though, things got a little more
interesting.
Upon learning about the Los Angeles Marathon on the
Thursday (May 1) prior, I decided that I might as well spend a
Sunday doing some well-deserved chafing and cramping. Who
doesn't love to spend a hot day out on the black pavement of
East Los Angeles pounding away at the 26.1 mile course?
This year, my 3 day training regimen consisted of sitting,
watching TV, eating and chemotherapy. Figuring that my usual
physical fitness is so exceptional, I thought I'd throw a wrench
into the works by running the race while during treatment. Yeah,
I figured that a dose of CeeNu (Lomustine) would be just what I
needed to get over the hump and actually have a little success
after my troubles in San Diego and L.A. 2005.
So, Sunday at 4am and it's into the car for the drive downtown.
After a short train ride, it's a 2 and a half hour wait at the starting
line and more than a few moments to contemplate just what I
was about to embark upon...OK, where's the Ben-Gay?
Then, with the crack of the pistol....we're off! Kind of. About
100 yards into the race, I wanted to jump in front of a bus. I was
already aching and gasping for breath. But it seemed that
everyone around me was helping to establish a bit of a
community out there. It's a strange phenomenon that happens at
the beginning of these races. I think it's a way to establish
community and really band together to accomplish what might
be a once in a lifetime thing for a lot of the participants.
Prior to the race, as everyone is stretching and trying to keep
warm, there are people you've never met asking about how you
feel and if you've done anything like this before. Then, as you
start off and hope for the best, these complete strangers are
rooting you on and checking on your welfare as the course
unfolds before you. It really is a unique experience and one that
kind of makes you stop an appreciate the community of an event
like this.
At any rate, after the initial heart attack, I started to settle own
and hit a stride that got me through the first 5 or 6 miles. Mind
you, I had already cleared it with Randy that he would come and
pick me up as close to the course as he could when I eventually
faded and dropped out of the ranks. I think it was somewhere
between 1.2 and 2 miles that I first started considering a call. I
figured that traffic would still be pretty light and I could get home
for a nap and a heroes' lunch at Wienerschnitzel.
Not the case, however. I figured it was probably still too early
to call Randy and I thought I might be able to drag myself along
for another couple of miles. After a while, I actually did make the
call and Randy came out to meet me at Mile 12. Only, by this
time, traffic had gotten a little rough and I started figuring that if
I'd gotten this far, why not keep on going?
With that though, I started having a few problems. I don't know
if everyone is familiar with the different products that elite
athletes are using to retain nutrients and energy these days. But
they are disgusting. There is always the obligatory Gatorade
and Powerade that they pass out along the marathon route. But,
there is also this stuff that is sort of a promotional hand-out and
it's kind of like toothpaste that tastes like cat barf and strawberry
jell-o. It's terrificly awful. The reason I make a point of telling you
is because somewhere after I made the last call to Randy and
sent him back home, I started to regret it.
I think that the combination of my chemotherapy and the
deliciousness of the Nutro-Goo totally destroyed my stomach. It
was gruesome. About 4 times between Miles 12 and 14, I had
to stop and wretch. As is so often the case when anything like
that happens out there, people were constantly passing by but
stopping to see that I was OK. And once I had rallied for a bit of
a 2nd...or maybe 3rd...or 12th wind, I needed to do something
about my now-empty stomach seeing as the contents were now
strewn about underpasses and back alleys of East L.A.
So, rounding the corner somewhere near Hollywood, I think, I
witnesse what many would consider a miracle. It began as a
glimmer on the horizon. Rising like a phoenix from the
otherwise ordinary surroundings. And as I got closer, the vision
began to take shape. Atop a dark column in the baking sun, the
faint shape of an arch came into focus...two in fact. Golden as
the twinkle of the setting sun on a tropical shore...
It was McDonald's.
Yup, the golden arches. And it couldn't have come at a better
time. So, after doing a bunch of those dry heave things that you
do when there's nothing left to throw up, I hobbled across the
parking lot and walked in to get some "nourishment". The real
beauty of the moment came when I sat down and started going
to town on the two cheeseburgers and french fries I had. A few
of the other customers kind of gave me the hairy eyeball,
probably because of the tiny shorts and the marathon number I
had on. Moments later, however, another of my competitors
burst through the door and told me he was happy to see me. I
enjoyed a large Coke while he ordered the Big Mac meal before
we sat and shared some conversation prior heading back out
into the fray.
Now, upon recounting that story, I get sickened looks from
family, friends and neighbors. Sad part is...it was the magic
potion that got me across the finish line!!!!!! No joke. I actually
finished!!!! While my time of just under 7 hours might not win me
a spot on the Olympic team...I gotta say that it was one of the
most thrilling moments of my life.
Laying in bed that night, I had the most awesome feeling of
accomplishment. It's not that I did anything even remotely out of
the ordinary. But I think it touched me because of what I found
out I could do in the face of something as difficult as cancer can
be. It felt good to know that even in the midst of treatment, I got
further than ever before. And though it may sound like a terrible
cliche, I am hoping that with every step I took to finish I got a little
closer to the cure.
marathon season has descended upon us again. And for those
of you with actual athletic prowess, the fun can begin once more.
For those of us without a calendar, let the pains begin.
Yup, this year I made yet another go of a marathon without
consulting with psychiatric professionals beforehand. Possibly,
not the best idea. This time though, things got a little more
interesting.
Upon learning about the Los Angeles Marathon on the
Thursday (May 1) prior, I decided that I might as well spend a
Sunday doing some well-deserved chafing and cramping. Who
doesn't love to spend a hot day out on the black pavement of
East Los Angeles pounding away at the 26.1 mile course?
This year, my 3 day training regimen consisted of sitting,
watching TV, eating and chemotherapy. Figuring that my usual
physical fitness is so exceptional, I thought I'd throw a wrench
into the works by running the race while during treatment. Yeah,
I figured that a dose of CeeNu (Lomustine) would be just what I
needed to get over the hump and actually have a little success
after my troubles in San Diego and L.A. 2005.
So, Sunday at 4am and it's into the car for the drive downtown.
After a short train ride, it's a 2 and a half hour wait at the starting
line and more than a few moments to contemplate just what I
was about to embark upon...OK, where's the Ben-Gay?
Then, with the crack of the pistol....we're off! Kind of. About
100 yards into the race, I wanted to jump in front of a bus. I was
already aching and gasping for breath. But it seemed that
everyone around me was helping to establish a bit of a
community out there. It's a strange phenomenon that happens at
the beginning of these races. I think it's a way to establish
community and really band together to accomplish what might
be a once in a lifetime thing for a lot of the participants.
Prior to the race, as everyone is stretching and trying to keep
warm, there are people you've never met asking about how you
feel and if you've done anything like this before. Then, as you
start off and hope for the best, these complete strangers are
rooting you on and checking on your welfare as the course
unfolds before you. It really is a unique experience and one that
kind of makes you stop an appreciate the community of an event
like this.
At any rate, after the initial heart attack, I started to settle own
and hit a stride that got me through the first 5 or 6 miles. Mind
you, I had already cleared it with Randy that he would come and
pick me up as close to the course as he could when I eventually
faded and dropped out of the ranks. I think it was somewhere
between 1.2 and 2 miles that I first started considering a call. I
figured that traffic would still be pretty light and I could get home
for a nap and a heroes' lunch at Wienerschnitzel.
Not the case, however. I figured it was probably still too early
to call Randy and I thought I might be able to drag myself along
for another couple of miles. After a while, I actually did make the
call and Randy came out to meet me at Mile 12. Only, by this
time, traffic had gotten a little rough and I started figuring that if
I'd gotten this far, why not keep on going?
With that though, I started having a few problems. I don't know
if everyone is familiar with the different products that elite
athletes are using to retain nutrients and energy these days. But
they are disgusting. There is always the obligatory Gatorade
and Powerade that they pass out along the marathon route. But,
there is also this stuff that is sort of a promotional hand-out and
it's kind of like toothpaste that tastes like cat barf and strawberry
jell-o. It's terrificly awful. The reason I make a point of telling you
is because somewhere after I made the last call to Randy and
sent him back home, I started to regret it.
I think that the combination of my chemotherapy and the
deliciousness of the Nutro-Goo totally destroyed my stomach. It
was gruesome. About 4 times between Miles 12 and 14, I had
to stop and wretch. As is so often the case when anything like
that happens out there, people were constantly passing by but
stopping to see that I was OK. And once I had rallied for a bit of
a 2nd...or maybe 3rd...or 12th wind, I needed to do something
about my now-empty stomach seeing as the contents were now
strewn about underpasses and back alleys of East L.A.
So, rounding the corner somewhere near Hollywood, I think, I
witnesse what many would consider a miracle. It began as a
glimmer on the horizon. Rising like a phoenix from the
otherwise ordinary surroundings. And as I got closer, the vision
began to take shape. Atop a dark column in the baking sun, the
faint shape of an arch came into focus...two in fact. Golden as
the twinkle of the setting sun on a tropical shore...
It was McDonald's.
Yup, the golden arches. And it couldn't have come at a better
time. So, after doing a bunch of those dry heave things that you
do when there's nothing left to throw up, I hobbled across the
parking lot and walked in to get some "nourishment". The real
beauty of the moment came when I sat down and started going
to town on the two cheeseburgers and french fries I had. A few
of the other customers kind of gave me the hairy eyeball,
probably because of the tiny shorts and the marathon number I
had on. Moments later, however, another of my competitors
burst through the door and told me he was happy to see me. I
enjoyed a large Coke while he ordered the Big Mac meal before
we sat and shared some conversation prior heading back out
into the fray.
Now, upon recounting that story, I get sickened looks from
family, friends and neighbors. Sad part is...it was the magic
potion that got me across the finish line!!!!!! No joke. I actually
finished!!!! While my time of just under 7 hours might not win me
a spot on the Olympic team...I gotta say that it was one of the
most thrilling moments of my life.
Laying in bed that night, I had the most awesome feeling of
accomplishment. It's not that I did anything even remotely out of
the ordinary. But I think it touched me because of what I found
out I could do in the face of something as difficult as cancer can
be. It felt good to know that even in the midst of treatment, I got
further than ever before. And though it may sound like a terrible
cliche, I am hoping that with every step I took to finish I got a little
closer to the cure.